"It's a nice knife, too. Far, far too nice to just leave behind like that." Altai slams back the fiery liquid. "I smell a setup.""Wee Jas, huh?
I knew that 'Kordsmen and the Jassites were having a spat of late....moreso than usual.....but knives in the night? That's something indeed."
Silvermane holds out her hand; "if I may? I don't recognize the name....but that's a Witchwarden knife. White....a midlevel mage in their guild. Yes; I don't believe a Witchwarden would be so careless."
"Xever" is the name on the pale white blade.
"It's a nice knife, too. Far, far too nice to just leave behind like that." Altai slams back the fiery liquid. "I smell a setup.""Wee Jas, huh?
I knew that 'Kordsmen and the Jassites were having a spat of late....moreso than usual.....but knives in the night? That's something indeed."
Beldan nods. “Setup for sure. Probably someone wants to set two of these different militias or police groups against each other. Makes it far easier to get away with things if the cops are fighting amongst themselves.” He understands the criminal mind far more than he understands the female mind.
“’Course, it could be more than just cops and thieves; if two whole districts are fighting against each other … probably won’t take long for the rest of the city to start choosing sides. I bet a city at war with itself would be pretty easy to take over…”
As if on cue, a roll of thunder, and the rain starts falling, to chill the balmy night air, and to make the bonfire spit and hiss.
"Still, this Xever fellow is probably the place to start looking. Of course, he's probably on the bottom of a canal, being earen by crabs."
heh heh....
"Still, this Xever fellow is probably the place to start looking. Of course, he's probably on the bottom of a canal, being earen by crabs."
Elgan shakes his head with a hint of a smile, as if feeling sorry for the uneducated,...
"Sorry Chere', no crabs in deh canals. Crabs 'er usual' in duh lakes er deh streams. In deh canals yeh git nibbled on by deh nutria."
He sighs at Altai's and the other's puzzled looks.
"Nutria, big-azz-rodent. Looks like a beaver on Bulls-Strength wit' no tail. Dey lahks deh canals, don' axe me why,..."
:)
The sun inevitably rises.
The party lounges about the 'temple; the eladrin maid inevitably leaves, the bonfire burns out.
A rider comes early in the morning....a Zelkaruner in burnished copper plate.
"Looking for.....Altai?" he inquires.
"This is a note for you, from the High Priest of Kord....."
He hands you a sealed scroll stamped with red wax in the symbol of that deity..
It reads,
"Altai,
Unfortunately, I was unable to raise poor unfortunate Dagbarr from the dead. It is beyond my power. It seems whomever murdered him removed his heart. As such he would immmediately die.
I'm sorry, sir, that his council couldn't be of any help in this matter. We would appreciate your aid in this, as it seems to me Kord has chosen to deliver the matter into your hands.
There are various reasons why handling this internally would be a bad idea. Please accept this small gifting as a retainer for your services.
Signed,
Torgamal Gred".....
Dagbarr is the guy that offered Gittik the slot in the Champion's Belt Sasserine games.
"Meh."
Oso surfaces bleary and tired after his exertions.
"That is the way to for Sasserine to say hello to Missus Legumbe's little boy. I feel........knackered."
"So you folks need help with breakfast or can you name a good spot?" He pats his belly as it growls.
Pip's belly groans in tandem with Osos's
"It's about second breakfast time, and I've yet to have my first!"
He moans in chorus with the rumbling stomaches.
"What a night! What the heck was in that Sasserine Sling I had?"
There's an inn or two down the street; the party settles in for a nice breakfast, with Sasserine coffee or Vudran tea if they like....
The streets seem much less busy in the early morning.
Oh, and the cleric (tired I was last night) sent a pouch with 6,000 g.p. in gems for Altai/the group to take the job.....
Please accept this small gifting as a retainer for your services.
"What gifting?" asks Beldan suspicously, holding his hurting head.
Elgan perches upon a barstool as if it were a tree branch, and contentedly sips a cup of tea. Despite his new-found immunity to the general effects of alcohol, his memories of last night are pleasantly blurry, as if the music itself were somehow intoxicating.
"So, whut's we're s'posed tah be doin', 'zact'ly?" He asks Altai, indicating the note and the obviously large bag of coins.
There's an inn or two down the street; the party settles in for a nice breakfast, with Sasserine coffee or Vudran tea if they like....
The streets seem much less busy in the early morning.Oh, and the cleric (tired I was last night) sent a pouch with 6,000 g.p. in gems for Altai/the group to take the job.....
That one....;)
Pip's belly groans in tandem with Osos's
"It's about second breakfast time, and I've yet to have my first!"
He moans in chorus with the rumbling stomaches."What a night! What the heck was in that Sasserine Sling I had?"
"From the taste in my mouth, a baboons rear end!"
Oso looks around for food, he will eat anything but he knows he needs to get in before Pip orders or it will be slow again.
"Sausages, bloody and a bit burnt on the outside. Eggs smiling sunny. And a weak beer to wash the bread down. Thanks. What gives Altai? We working for the Kordites?"
"Apparently we are. The first stop would be to chat a bit with the dead guy. Could you rustle up one of those 'speak with the dead' magicks?"
You guys get 4 questions....they'll let you in over at the Church of Kord. A stooped, elderly mortician in a spattered smock who smells of chymicals and smoke leads you into the underworkings of the massive black stoned cathedral to a room where the body is being preserved and wrapped in silken bandagings. The slight little man, a head taller than Gittik do to time's shrinkage, ushers everybody out, nods at Altai, and closes the door behind him.
"You know any other good tittie bar?"
"Who killed you? and Why did they kill you? an- No I think Gittik that we should save that one until last unless the others come up with a better one."
"How about: What were you doing when you were killed?"
The ghostly apparition speaks;
Who:
"It was Xever....he's a Witchwarden, a wizard....I don't know him well. I....think I heard he was a student of probabilities.
I've heard he has some troubles; don't know much."
Why:
"He said to me, 'now, fool, we will stop your Champion's Games. We will stop your abominations unto the goddess.' The Church of Wee Jas isn't too keen on our games. What they see as arbitrary utilization of raise dead.....without consultation to the Goddess of Death, is an extreme insult.
We see it, though, as Kord's will, and their opinion as extremely intrusive."
What he was doing:
"I had just found a very promising prospect for the games,....(the ghostly visage nods at Gittik) and, it being past my bedtime, was heading back to the church for the night, wherein to sleep."
One more left, unless you wanna roll with the ttbar thing. ;)
Beldan stays quiet, he’s nervous around talking corpses.
So maybe I was wrong, he thinks. Church trouble maybe, not thieves or usurpers … that’s tricky then…
*bookmark*
using this avatar to bookmark stuff for future reference as the game unfolds, so the dm can keep tabs on all of his tangled webs....
"postmortem conversation with Dagbarr, the slain Cleric of Kord"
One more question.....
"why are we here?"
"what is best in life?"
Oh, and I use this avatar's sheet to do a little ongoing Sasserine journal of what's going down; names; who did what to whom;....if you forget a detail, it might just be on this avatar's sheet....easier than combing into the past through 1,000 posts for the name of the murder victim.....etc....
"I don't know. I thought he had some trouble with the Witchwardens, got excommunicated or whatever they do......kicked out, I guess you'd call it...........
Not sure where he lives. Maybe the Shadowshore district...."
Shadowshore's where the Blue Goose was.
It's the scuzzier side of Sasserine.
"So... Xever is excommunicated from a organisation that is itself the result of intercommunal religious strife within the death goddess' cult. He must be a right piece of work." He looks over the knife. "Of course, we already knew that, sort of."
I'm f@#&ing sooooooo enjoying this; and not even from a god-playing-with-ants p.o.v. at all.
It's weird, but I totally cannot predict with any certainty what you guys will do or think. Even though I play, when I'm d.m. I can never totally figure the characters out.
It's a constant source of fascination.
"So, OK, man in tittie bar now dead. So, why we care?"
Elgan looks a trifle, confused.
"Much as dis may surprze yeh Chere', Ah gots tah agree wit' Gittik on dis one. Ah knows dats dere's still lots tah learn afore ah figger out yew 'civilized' fellas, but isn't dis purty much normal in deh cities? Ah means groups fightin' fer power, an' removin' ones whut git in dere way? Ah ain't sayin' ah agrees wit it, but where do we come in? And if we jump in, kin we at least make sure we'ze backin' deh right side? IF there is one?"
"Well, I agree that this seems to be Kordite business; indeed, if it involved going up against the Witchwarden organisation, I'd say we stay the hell away from it." Altai gets up and starts pacing around. "However, this seems to be the work of a single whackjob, and by hunting him down, the Church of Kord will be very happy with us. This is potentially useful, especially as we might want to compete in those gladitatorial events they sponsor. Also, the Witchwardens will thank us for stopping this loose ballista."
"So, to recap: single headcase, potential important gratitude. Oh, and they've already paid us." He shakes the bag of gems before turning to Gittik. "And perhaps our buddy Xever has Dagbarr's heart back at his hangout. If we can repair Dagbarr's corpse, methinks he would be really happy afterwards. I know I would be."
Two men enter the chamber.
One's a gnome, with a hookhammer strapped to his back, his breastplate polished to sparkling, his swarthy forked beard immaculately trimmed.
He looks at Gittik: "Truer words never spoke. Listen to your pintsized friend over there. You guys aren't up to the task at hand.
Do us all a favor; go look at some sprung brisket dam's pendulous dugs while WE take care of this matter."
The gnome hammerman stands a mere 5 centimeters taller than the wild child hobniz, shod as he is in his platform boots.
The other one looks down his nose at you.....6 foot 4, hair like burnished gold, piercing emerald eyes filled with intellect and scorn.
His gold-chased bluish silvery plate mail displays the head of a black dragon on his breast, with milky opal eyes.
"So, since you've ruined any chance we have of holding a proper seance with the body, please, indulge me," haughtily pronounced; the arrogant speaker looks around feigning boredom and not even making eye contact; "do tell me please, what you've learned if anything."
Two men enter the chamber.
One's a gnome, with a hookhammer strapped to his back, his breastplate polished to sparkling, his swarthy forked beard immaculately trimmed.
He looks at Gittik: "Truer words never spoke. Listen to your pintsized friend over there. You guys aren't up to the task at hand.
Do us all a favor; go look at some sprung brisket dam's pendulous dugs while WE take care of this matter."
The gnome hammerman stands a mere 5 centimeters taller than the wild child hobniz, shod as he is in his platform boots.
"See, even him agree with me. And him sh1thead."
The other one looks down his nose at you.....6 foot 4, hair like burnished gold, piercing emerald eyes filled with intellect and scorn.
His gold-chased bluish silvery plate mail displays the head of a black dragon on his breast, with milky opal eyes.
"So, since you've ruined any chance we have of holding a proper seance with the body, please, indulge me," haughtily pronounced; the arrogant speaker looks around feigning boredom and not even making eye contact; "do tell me please, what you've learned if anything."
"Hey, you friend Iron Rabbit Sh1t?"
"Shithead? Wha.....why I'll...."the gnome reaches for his doppelhammer, but his comrade holds up one velvet gloved hand.
"Uh, yerrs....." to the group; "is your mysophiliac circus geek done, or is he going to poo in his hand and behead a fowl of some sort? Let's have the information please; this is getting to be tedious."
The gnome pipes up, "Get in the ring, boah! I'm going to make you eat Arena sand until you get a F#**ING BOWEL IMPACTION, CIRCUS GEEK!!!"
Then, the taller one;...
"Please, Kiggit,....we're in Church....let's all use our inside voices..."
Elgan looks on incredulously as the two newcomers enter and make their demands. HE looks from them, to Gittik, to them, to Altai, to them, to Reise,... and finally busts out laughing.
"Awww, t'anks chere', ah neededs dat!" HE says still chortling, wiping tears from his eyes. "Yew kin runs along now, we gots wurk ta dew."
He turns to Altai, completely turning his back on the newcomers, dismissing them completely. "Aw'righters Altee, yew gots a guud point. SInce dey wuz nahce e'nuff tah pays us in advance, an all. Sides, if'n it drug dese tew daises up outta dey flauer bed, it mus' be sumthin' wurth luukin inter!"
Elgan's mirth turns the tall man's face corpse pale. Something twitches in his temple; though he maintains command of his bearings, his steely eyes look knives at the Creolelf.
"Is that....your final answer?" he hisses.
Altai looks at the two newcomers for a while. "Ah... Unfortunately, we didn't learn anything. Good luck to you gentlemen, I'm sure someone with your prodigious talents will be able to wring some good info out of poor Dagbarr."
Pip smirks at his dirty cousin's remarks. He addresses the angry gnome:
"I wouldn't push your luck there dwarf wannabe," He drawls to the gnome with height issues. "Yon 'circus geek' has taken down demon princes in his day. If you like your silly hammer on the outside I suggest you watch your tongue."
Altai looks at the two newcomers for a while. "Ah... Unfortunately, we didn't learn anything. Good luck to you gentlemen, I'm sure someone with your prodigious talents will be able to wring some good info out of poor Dagbarr."
"And good luck to you, Sah. You'll need it, in the Arena."
On the way out, Beldan asks one of the Kordites, “So who are those two supposed to be?” gesturing back the way they came, clearly asking about the gnome and the snob.
"Did he look ugly for a gnome or was it just me? He looked like his face needed re-arranging. Maybe Gittik can help him."
"Meh, me get feeling me get chance some time soon."