Anzath finds the local potion shop:
2xBless Weapon
2xHide from Undead
2xProtection from Evil
2xVanish
2x Remove Fear
1xCat’s Grace
She also surprises the group by buying a donkey with harness and pack saddle.
Aurora regards the new donkey skeptically, "I hope it enjoys being on a ship, and doesn't fear either wolves or bandits. Does it have a name?"
---
Almost as an afterthought, Aurora will also pick up a number of non-perishable foodstuffs while the group is still in the city: several days worth of dried fruits and berries of varietals that are not as available in Zelkor's Ferry as they are in Riddleport; two one-pound sacks of coffee beans, and a dinky little grinder to accompany; and... is that a pound of the fiendishly expensive rarity known as 'chocolate'?! ... yes. She fastidiously parcels it; first in half, then one of the halves is further parceled into six portions set into waxed paper marked with the name of a group member. The remaining half-pound's wrap is labeled 'Sawen.'
Once his money is spent and crafting is done, Tragershen seems impatient to get back to the island. When he can, he passes the time chatting with Brand, trying to pick up the Halfling language to add to his repertoire.
She also surprises the group by buying a donkey with harness and pack saddle.
Trag is definitely surprised at Anzath bringing a donkey along; his surprise stems more from the fact that it was her and not Bedlam who did so.
Anzath may be dragging a donkey onto a ship, but she looks every inch an adventurer who does not intend to die in the depths, what with all the potions stuck into odd pockets here and there.
Elma explains that her financiers have funded another trip for all of you on the Laughing Dolphin. She's keeping her two veteran mercenaries as her personal bodyguard in town, as she's made a few enemies with her sudden rise to the top. She's also just about out of credit.
You're on your own unless you hire people in Zelkor's Ferry or, if you want to pay more for some specific specialty, you can pick them up before you leave. Gelver follows you all like a loyal but ill-trained and neurotic guard dog.
...again you see the big pod of orca whales. No active danger.
...again you see the big pod of orca whales. No active danger.
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"Donkey vill be good on boat," Anzath insists. She looks at the creature for a beat, and a smirk creeps across her face, "Hiz name iz Molotov."
Aurora offers her hand out for Molotov to sniff, then gently rubs at its shoulders. "If you have everything to care for him, I'm sure he'll make a delightful companion. If not, well, donkey meat cannot taste that bad, can it?"
"We can ask whatever denizen of the Graves ends up devouring it."
Then, more softly, he adds "Of course, it will make it easier to carry out our gains. And should one or more of us need to revisit the stone head, it would make the journey easier."
CHAPTER THREE: The Definition of Insanity
Day 26
Strange to think that you first left Riddleport for Rivenrake Island less than a month ago. Since then, you've seen things. You've fought things. You've bought and sold, you've used and crafted... and that's just the things! You've dispatched ancient intelligences that waited for hundreds of years for the chance to battle you. Cut deals with photosynthetic bandit leaders (and eliminated others). You have (some of you) put entire armies to flight. It's been an interesting month. Six days have passed since you last saw this little hamlet, with its few buildings, its spongy, swampy ground, and its inhabitants, some of whom are starting to feel like family.
Brand is greeted, how shall we say, enthusiastically by Sawen. He might be a little flattered by her impatience at the fact that the full moon is still two weeks away ( "If only... you came back out of that hole just after the last full moon! You won't go out adventuring until after we're married, right? I think you should wait." ). Gal wants to get engaged and married the moon after, in the best Bristleback fashion. She also has a big hug for Aurora, "Could you do a ceremony for us, Rory?! That'd be so nice!"
Bristleback grimaces. "We have the old family rite, my lass, no need to trouble Nethys on the account of a Bristleback... no offense to him, of course." But after she insists on having a "normal" wedding "too," he relents and says that if she wants, Aurora can offer some words or a blessing during the feast.
Bedlam eyes the donkey. The dwarf smirks.
Be tasting like bacon!
He winks at the drow.
Once off the boat, Anzath hands Brand a potion of Vanish and an oil of Bless Weapon. “For getting hitched,” she tells him. She also gives Talathel a potion of Remove Fear, and for the first time since leaving the dungeon, speaks to him, “Don’t get any ideaz, elf. You are mighty varrior, but ve bod left our komrades in time of need. I don’t like being humiliated. I vas humiliated again at de temple. I kount on you to help get job done, yez?”
Talathel does not hesitate in taking the offered potion.
Indicating his cloak, he replies:
"Anzath, I have begum shoring up my mental defenses. You do have my thanks for this potion. I can only guarantee that I will do my best to avoid a similar situation in future. As I hope you will likewise do."
Brand uses the few days in Riddleport much as his companions do: causing a little trouble, sharing a few stories, teaching Tragershen his native tongue, and tracking down some much needed equipment. After having to assume the role of front-line warrior with the departure of Hakram, Lolly, Chases Moonlight, and Joden, Brand is determined to find a set of armor, one of exceptional craftsmanship, that he has only heard of in drunken boasts from warriors and thieves alike. Mithral they say is an otherworldly metal, that both the elves and dwarves have learned the secrets of crafting into mail as light and flexible as normal clothes, yet it is able to turn aside weapon blows with ease.
In addition, during his lessons with Tragershen, he will discuss the mage's offer of enchantments with him. "Indeed, these encounters of late have been very dangerous. I have managed to replace the goblin's leathers with something a bit more resilient. That said, I have heard tell of an amulet that can harden your skin itself to weapons. Would you be willing to craft such an item for me?" During his training Tragershen has noted, among other things, that Brand speaks quite clearly in his native tongue.
Finally, he will seek out an enclave of his kin. There is always one in every major city, hidden in some forgotten neighborhood. There he seeks a few things, including his people's travel food, and gifts for his bride-to-be and her father. For Bristleback he seeks out a bottle of the fabled Greybottom's Dragon Punch Whiskey, an exceptional production of an already unique halfling spirit. For Sawen, he has something special in mind...
mithral chain shirt - 1100 gp
materials for amulet of natural armor +1 - 1000 gp
wandermeal x120 - 1.2 gp
dragon punch whiskey - 50 gp (normally 10 gp, figure x5 for an especially refined version)
guard dog (Valhund) - 125 gp (normally 25 gp, x5 for a top-breed specimen)
I sell off my old masterwork studded leather, standard half price: +87.5 gp
536.3 gp remaining, added to wealth
----------------------
Brand accepts Sawen's greeting with quite the rudy blush - he might have even turned into a tomato! At the young lady's plee that they stay in town until the next full moon, he smiles as he strokes he face. "Ah, lass, but wut kind o' friend wud I be if'n I let me allies go back in wit out me protection?! I mean, duh ye tink dey kin take care of demselves? But, lass, 'ave no fear. I know it's a bit early, but I tracked down a roight proper weddin' gift fer ye. It may seem strange, but among me people, dis is considered a most noble present. An', even when I be off raisin' a ruckus, ye'll no longer be alone." Brand whistles, and a spunky diminutive dog comes running into the tap room. "Dis is Aegis. 'e's a Venhoun, a breed o' shepherd an' guard dog kept by me people. An' dare gud wit lil'uns too." He throws in a devious smirk with the last comment.
After (hopefully) getting to witness Sawen's excitement at the gift, he smiles and turns to Bristleback. "Now, I know ye are deh proprietor o' dis fine establishment an' 'ave no doubt enjoyed countless libations, but dis is a rare whiskey among me people, an' seein' as 'ow ye are now me people, well, I tawt dis made sense. Just, be careful, it's got one 'ell o' a punch!"
Sawen is over-freakin'-joyed to be given a pet dog. So overjoyed that she almost (almost) overlooks Brand's remarks about little ones. Bristleback slaps him on the back and pulls out a bunch of shot glasses, "They work for sippin' too!" Bristleback also explains that Brand and his friends are welcome to make themselves at home. Eat, drink, pick out a room-- "We'll share the Boar's Board for now, but it'll be all yers and Sawen's someday, might as well get used to runnin' the place."
Anzath stables Molotov and makes her way into the Boar's Board. She lowers her hood and searches the premises for Ippolit. If she spots him, she won't approach him directly. Instead she'll position herself at the bar where she can can keep an eye on him in her periphery, watching him to see how he interacts with others, overhear things he says, etc. Only after getting a good read on him, or if he approaches her, will she make contact.
Ippolit seemingly hasn't moved from where you saw him last. He's in the corner of the bar, avoiding the boisterous mercenary band, sipping and ale and eating bread. He cuts the loaf with an oversized dagger in one smooth motion, and his careful dip into the butter dish is followed by an equally impressive spread--the slice is evenly coated in one pass.
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Tragershen enjoys chatting with his halfling companion, and quickly picks up the language, as he does with most linguistic challenges. With his newness to the tongue, he isn't sure if Brand is far more articulate than he thought or not.
"I would be glad to infuse such an item for you. I just wish it weren't so expensive. And I see you have a new shirt of mithral there! Perhaps next time we return to Riddleport, I can layer some enchantments on that as well."
As the others joke and celebrate, Tragershen sits by himself with his tomes. He scratches out notes and formulas while sipping at a glass of wine. Occasionally he looks up at the room, scanning to see where the rest of his group is. He steadily works on advanced spell formulas to bolster his allies' prowess and help him overcome spells like the one that the bandit witch used on him.
At one point, he sees them together and laughing; over what he can't be sure. Even the more dour Anzath seems to be giving the moment a wry smile. He puts aside his book for a moment and pulls out his journal, the one where he is recording their attempt to assault the depths of Rappan Athuk. He closes his eyes, solidifying the memory of that exact moment before opening them again and starting to sketch. He is pleased by the way the image is turning out, and takes his time flushing out key details.
Aurora returns Sawen's hug and fondly claps the girl on the back. As to the prospect of performing the ceremony and/or blessing the wedding she is more than willing, and to Ol' Bristleback's reluctance pitches in, "If both our lovebirds are lucky, they'll spend the rest of their lives together and not have anymore weddings. Sawen's special day deserves to be as special and blessed as she wishes it."
After Aegis the Venhound has been gifted and Sawen has had time to get over the initial burst of joy, Aurora presents her with the half-pound of chocolate, "It's a very special treat. Do not let little Aegis eat any, though."
-----
Once all the gushing returns and greetings and gifts have been exchanged, Aurora settles in to a seat by Tragershen. She is polite enough to not disturb or stare at his work, but when she thinks he isn't paying attention she attempts to steal a quick glance at his sketch out of curiosity. Snooping aside, she retrieves her thin, well-loved and dogeared copy of one of Nethys' most prominent holy texts, The Book of Magic, and sets to reading a few choice passages; how she manages the small, densely-packed text necessary to render such a book into an easily portable size without a pair of reading glasses is anyone's guess.
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Bedlam boisterous battles kegs while at Boar's Board. The merry dwarf shares with any that are stop at his table. He hungrily devours anything served.
Aurora's gift shocks Sawen. "I've never even seen chocolate before! It's... it is almost too pretty to eat! Such a rich dark color, and so smooth. I'll share it with my firebrand later."
Bristleback slams a full mug of ale down in front of Bedlam. The mug is big enough to hold an entire bottle of wine. "Drink up dwarf, and I'll show you an heirloom of House Bristleback. Mr. Hornblower, if you please, come see what your squealers will inherit when their tusks come in. Mr. Tragershen, Ms. Fallowarc, the new friends, all of you, come take a look." Bristleback lights a few candles and spreads out a hand-written parchment. "It is the only map of the region."
At that, Ippolit and the brighter mercenaries all scramble over to take a look. Such an object is... well, this is supposed to be uncharted territory! A map of Rivenrake, at this level of detail, is unheard of.
Bristleback grins, his huge teeth protruding grotesquely from his otherwise-handsome face. "The labels are in a cypher. I'll teach it to Hornblower to celebrate the birth of my first grandchild. For now, I want to show you something important."
Everyone leans in to look. "Here, at the arcane numeral "27," are we. Over here, deep in the Forest of Hope, is the Mouth of Doom, where you've been diggin' and findin' shiny skulls and whatnot, at the "14". I nudged you over there a few weeks ago because you saved the town, and I wanted you all to live. But now--well, you've proved yourselves. You'd learn these things one way or the other, and I gotta be honest to my future family and their associates, and these fine men and women deserve a look at the lay of the land, too."
Bristleback gestures towards the mercenaries. They cheer. Ippolit smiles.
"You've been inland. The forest is dangerous, and the dungeon is deep there, very deep. And I didn't lie about it connecting with the main dungeon when I mentioned the tale to you. Those legends are old, and the older, the truer, in my experience. But... it's not really THE Rappan Athuk, the Dungeon of Graves. That foul place is over here, by the coast." He stabs a stubby finger at a group of hills you passed on your way in to town, at the disquieting and twisted sign of "9". "I don't tell you this to send you to your death. I'd rather you stayed here for the wedding feast. But... I want you to see the truth before you go out again. If it's the Dungeon of Graves you seek, head to the coast. The graveyard is there, and the tunnels go down, down, down. Beware, though. The Bristlebacks tread not those hills. The hills stay in their place. We stay in ours."
Anzath quietly studies the map with the others, slowly sipping an ale. She notes Ippolit's interest, and when Bristleback is through with his presentation, she motions for him to join her at a table. She orders a round for the two of them, and lays it out flatly. "Az you might have heard, my komrades and I are exploring Rappan Athuk. I have important job to do down there. Ve had help before, but dey stayed behind in Riddleport. Ve vill need someone to vatch our backz vhen ve go back dere. I have some gold and vill have more vhen job iz done. You vill vork for uz, yez? Or should I ask dese loons?" she motions to the other mercenaries.
Aurora's eyes widen at the detail present in the map—she refrains from touching the parchment, but gauges a finger above the scale to trace an imaginary path between Zelkor's Ferry and the purported entrance to the Dungeon of Graves.
"That is... incredible. There's so much more here than just Rappan Athuk, isn't there?" Her lips purse thoughtfully, and she casts up a glance towards the Bristlebacks of an increasingly curious nature... definitely not normal humans, those two. But they seemed warm and friendly enough. A smile crosses her lips.
To the party, she adds, "Although it is true we seek the Dungeon of Graves... there is still a great deal of the Mouth of Doom we have not yet seen, and it is still nearer the Ferry unless we should find one suicidal enough to bring us down that coast by boat... which sounds like a risky proposition on a good day; enough so that we must assume we'd have to walk. But, I imagine we'll have some time to discuss our travel plans. I fear Sawen will not let Brand go for a while yet." A teasing look is tossed to Sawen.
Anzath:
Ippolit grins. "I was a cop in Riddleport for years. I wouldn't trust this gang to track down a wayward goose. But I'm your man if you need someone to watch your back. I just need some gold so I can settle down out here."
Bristleback nods soberly at Aurora, despite the ale he's consumed. "I'd be the last to be disappointed if you head back to the "easy" part of the dungeon. But you all look like you're level for it by now, and that's what my grandad always said--"don't send 'em down till they're at least level for it! He laughs. "But you gotta bring Mr. Hornblower back, and I reckon we'll be making him both a better husband and a stronger adventurer than he is already by the time were through with him!"
Aurora might well wonder to herself, "Did he just leave the apostrophe out of 'we're'? Can one even hear that?"
"I am open to going directly to the main entrance. Do we have any idea what hazards lie between us and it?"
"The situation in the woods is always changing. You name it, we've seen it: vampires, hobgoblins, trolls, things coming up from the dungeon, things going down. You've already encountered several groups of human bandits, there may be more of them. Hells, there's a dragon that lives off the coast who hunts in the hills every decade or so, when he gets off his fat treasure-covered ass and realizes he's hungry. If you see him, I'll miss you."
Bristleback shakes his head, smiling sadly.
"I like that you're brave. I like that you want to go out there and fight and win honor and glory. Just know that you're up against forces that are bigger than you, bigger than me, forces that would wipe this town right off this map if we ever bothered them. Get in, get gold, get out, get back. Don't try to save the world."
Anzath offers Ippolit 40 gold to follow them to the dungeon. "It'z all I have, but dere iz promize of more. Listen to all de talk. Dere iz plenty to go around, az long az you keep guard." She ppints out Gelver in the crowd, "Krazy man vill vork vith you. He should be harmless, but turns bloodthirsty in fight." At this she smirks.
"Vell, vhat do you say? Beatz vaiting around in tavern, no?"
"I say we venture for the true entrance."
Bedlam begins to choke. The dwarf quickly ducks under the table. The violent sounds of struggle erupt between his coughing and his attempts to no cough.
Silence wafts upward. The dwarf follows.
Be a useful thing dis map. Might me be able ta copy it? Purely academic, of course.
Bedlam nods to Anzath.
Bedlam addresses the group, after studying the map.
Me be tinking dat we finish Wat we started. Dungeon of Graves be dere still after.
Bristleback passes the map to Bedlam. "You're welcome to take a gander and do your best to memorize it, but with the current political climate, I'd rather not have copies of this thing floating around."
Ippolit grins and bows. "At your service, m'am."
Anzath hands Ippolit his down payment, with a grimacing smile. Returning to the conversation around the map, she adds her input, "Yaza's trail startz vhere ve killed her. I vould like to return dere first."
At the mention of Yaza's trail, Tragershen also recalls the fallen holy warriors that Anzath started with. "Hmmm. Yes. We do have unfinished business there. The Dungeon of Graves has been waiting for us for more than a century; it can wait a while longer while we finish what we started."
Here in Zelkor's Ferry, Tragershen will check the Spy Eye to see if any of its sensors are here in town, or within range of town.
Also, the first full day we are in town, just before lunch Tragershen will deliver the supplies to Ullman that he requested from Riddleport. He will tell him "I understand the desire to be on the fringe of civilization to do certain practices. The privacy can make it much easier to focus. I will try to stop by when we are making for the mainland to see if you might need anything else."
Tragershen flips on the Spy Eye, but he sees only static.
Ulmann nods appreciatively. "They chased me out of the city. They chased me out of the town. Now I live in the village. It's nice. Uh, here. Homemade."
He gives Tragershen a potion of Cure Light Wounds (Homemade).
"Understandable. We venture to the Mouth of Doom once more."
Talathal wields his spear, and it seems sharper and swifter than before. He also wears a spiffy cloak, of elven make.
Tragershen flips on the Spy Eye, but he sees only static.
Ulmann nods appreciatively. "They chased me out of the city. They chased me out of the town. Now I live in the village. It's nice. Uh, here. Homemade."
He gives Tragershen a potion of Cure Light Wounds (Homemade).
Trag accepts the potion gratefully, knowing such a token could save his life at just the right moment.
"I understand." He absentmindedly taps his holy symbol of Nethys with a finger as he says "Too many people do not understand seeking knowledge at any cost. It can be quite a burden sometimes."
My friends and I are heading out soon. We'll be going toward some of the ruins and depths again. Did you have any more supplies we should keep an eye out for?"[/b]
Ullman gives Tragershen a good list of various bits and pieces he needs--mostly fungi.
Brand nods silently. Gelver looks... ready? Sawen looks worried. The mercenaries mutter among themselves, looking jealously at Ippolit as he equips himself...
In the morning, you set off for the Mouth of Doom once more.
Day 27
Day 28
Your lucky butts make it back to base camp without encountering any trouble at all, except a little rain. On the dawn of Day 29, you wake rested and ready to enter the Mouth of Doom once more.
Before they head down the stairs into the Mouth of Doom, Trag will again try the Spy Eye to see if he can view any of the others.
When he is done with it, he'll put it in his magical haversack so that it is in an extradimensional space, and of no use to anyone who might have another of the Spy Eyes from this batch.
Also, before they go down, he'll cast Mage Armor on himself.
Anzath hands Ippolit her remaining potion of cure light wounds before they descend. She also leaves Molotov in the care of the mercenary and the madman. "Vatch kamp. Be safe." she instructs them.
Talathel resumes his place in the marching order, quietly advancing.
Bedlam wakes up early. The Alchemist merrily mixes his Extracts; leaving 2 open slots for later. He then spends an hour mixing his Mutagen (Str). Checking, sharpening, and repacking his gear a few times, the dwarf grins.
Be ready ta return!
Ippolit looks into the darkness of the woods and shudders. "Don't leave me... and him... out here too long alone, now, ok?"
Gelver is distraught at being separated from Brand, but his fear of the Mouth of Doom nudges him into accepting a role as camp sentry.
When Tragershen flips on the spy eye, he sees
First, a horrifying, damned fountain that seems to be bubbling with gore and filth. A zombie lurches past the spy eye...
Second, the face of a man in red and black. The man quickly yells something (you can't hear), and beckons to someone behind him. You see Yaza Mongro rushing towards the spy eye. At this point, I imagine Tragershen will extra-dimensional-bag it to avoid being spied on himself, but if you feel like seeing out of the other eyes at the price of being observed yourself, and/or interacting with Yaza, let me know.
Where are you heading, folks? Yaza's room?
"Let us resume the hunt for Yaza. We destroy his corpse and take whatever is left. That should impede further attempts at resurrecting his miserable hide."
Aurora gives Molotov a good few pets and rubbings on the whithers before stepping away from the dutiful new pack donkey with a, "Be good."
To the rest of the group, she gives an appraising nod and retrieving a small pouch from her bag "I believe I mentioned a spell back in Riddleport. It will last four hours after I cast it, so long as my subject is within a close range of me. Thirty-five feet if we wish to be precise. I would suggest someone who is either—" She briefly pauses to chew her lip and choose a less-likely to offend word,"—less-sturdy to begin with, or who anticipates to be in the thick of the fray."
She pulls a pair of platinum rings from the small pouch and into her palm; she goes ahead and slips one onto her index finger before offering the remaining one in her open palm towards the rest of the group.