dot
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You all arrive at the small hamlet of Zelkor's Ferry having heard rumors of the famed Rappan Athuk.
This is a small trading post and fortified inn, surrounded by an ancient and crumbling stone curtain wall with wooden guard-towers that were clearly built in later years for added defense. The gates of the fort are closed and manned by two bowmen who scrutinize the adventurers closely, but since most visitors to Zelkor’s Ferry are armed and dangerous-looking they are unlikely to bar the party from entering unless the characters do or say something extremely stupid. Ten kobold skulls have been nailed to the gate as a mild warning to would-be attackers.
You arrive by keelboat at the docks.
"Alright lads and lasses...we are here for riches and for me at least, to take back this dungeon for the dwarves who built it, if Dwerfater sees fit. I'm Kaztor, and I have a feeling we're all going to get to know each other really well in a really short time. Battle makes brothers out of strangers," the bald, red bearded dwarf announces to the other hopeful adventurers as he dismounts the boat, ready to enter the dock.
Katzor make 2 DC13 Intelligence checks and a DC20 Wisdom check for rumors. If you make it roll a % for each.
Intelligence
Intelligence
Wisdom
Percentage dice
Percentage dice
Percentage roll
Rumor: Outlaws sometimes hazard the dangers of the wilderness, seeking refuge from the law. It is said that some have even banded together, to start their own community.
Rumor: “Rappan Athuk? Bah! No one ever gets out of that place alive! (The last two are the same)
A tall human steps off after Kaztor, nodding to the Dwarf as introduces himself. "Name's Virgil. Riches sounds good to me." he glances around the town, already on alert.
Virgil, you can also make two INT checks DC 13. Town? It is barely a hamlet. A woman is washing clothes near the pier and a man down the shore takes his fishing pole out of the water and makes his way towards the dock to greet you. "I am Gutmark the Ferryman. Welcome to Zelkor's Ferry. You can get rooms at Bristleback’s Inn." as he points down the lane.
Ah, I am being Dolgrin Brightlaughter today. It is a pleasure to be meeting such worthy companions, and adopted so early. We will make excellent brothers, yes? I wonder, does this Rappan Athuk have dogs? Mine drowned on the journey, silly thing.
Standing next to a tree and eating an apple another dwarf comes closer with a smile, wearing old but quite serviceable leather traveling clothes, but no armor and carrying an battered warhammer and a bow and three quivers of arrows.
The bow is compared to his other items finely polished and quite lovingly cared for.
"Riches? By Dwarfeter, count me in! Do you need a sharp eye and a steady bow?"
"Welcome to you all. I think we probably should grab a few rooms, as we will need a base fairly close to the crypt. This might be as good as any. There's supposed to be an outlaw community somewhere out in the wilds near here, but I doubt they'd be welcoming to our kind," the dwarf advises as he hops off the boat and heads toward the inn.
"HMM, this outlaws might give us a chance to bloody our weapons, learn how the others fight. Might be better before venturing in more dangerous areas!"
"We'd have to find them first. If anyone is a skilled tracker, that might be a good way to start, of course."
Rumors: Each character can make two DC 13 Intelligence checks. Each success earns the character a rumor. Wizards, clerics and bards (but not sorcerers) may another DC 20 attribute check, basing it upon the higher of their Intelligence, Wisdom, or Charisma characteristics; a success earns the an additional rumor. Bards may add 1/2 their bard levels to this roll, to account for their Bardic Knowledge class ability.
The Legend of Rappan Athuk
Many hundreds of years ago, the forces of good allied to destroy
the main Temple of Orcus in the ancient city of Tsar. With their
temple in ruins, the surviving high priests of this accursed demongod
fled the city with an army of enemies on their trail—an army
of heroic fighters, clerics and paladins—led by Zelkor, a powerful
wizard. The exact fate of these evil priests was then unknown, for
not only did the remnants of the followers of Orcus disappear from
all human reckoning, but so did the army of light that followed after
them disappear as well. Some said that in the eternal scales the loss
of so many good men was a fair price to pay to rid the world of so
much evil.
The evil cult, however, had not been destroyed. The surviving
priests and their followers instead settled on a hill near the Forest
of Hope, a sylvan woodland near the Coast Road. There they found
a vast underground complex of caverns and mazes, carving out a
volcanic intrusion beneath the hill. There, the priests of Orcus found
the perfect lair to continue their vile rituals. For many years, they
carried on in secret, hidden from the light and from the knowledge
of men.
Many years later, their underground delving completed, the evil
priests erected a hideous mausoleum and a sunken graveyard atop
the hill. It is believed that these graves are in fact the final resting
place of the pursuing army of heroes that had been destroyed to a
man. Soon after the mausoleum was erected the peaceful creatures
of the wood began to disappear. Though many rangers and
druids investigated these happenings, the cause of the creatures’
disappearance was not immediately determined. Some years later a
powerful group of adventurers, led by Bofred, a high priest of Thyr,
investigated the evil happenings and found the sunken graveyard
leading to a labyrinthine complex. Bofred and his companions
found great hordes of evil creatures in the complex. Though some
of his companions returned from their expedition, telling tales of
fantastic treasure and ferocious monsters, Bofred was never seen
again—lost in the catacombs beneath the cursed mausoleum.
For the last one hundred years, ranks of adventurers have ventured
to the newfound dungeon. Many fell prey to bandits and monsters
in the surrounding wilderness. Rumors suggest that of those who
survived to reach the mausoleum and sunken graveyard, most were
slain by guardians of green stone or perished on the very first level.
Those rare few who return from deeper treks speak of horrible
undead and creatures that cannot be slain. All who have explored
Rappan Athuk offer this one universal piece of advice: “Don’t go
down the Well.”
"We'd have to find them first. If anyone is a skilled tracker, that might be a good way to start, of course."
"I could try. Not here for bandits though, just dungeons. And riches." Virgil said, watching the bowmen by the gate with interest.
Well you should have one rumor
There is a vast underground cavern system populated by hideous beasts under the Forest of Hope called “The Barrows”.
"Could try Rasmus Pye’s Trading Post. He sells supplies and such. Don't know about dogs though."
He nods, heading to the inn with his companions.
We will be needing many things, I suspect, but first we will be needing jobs. Let's check the taps, and if they have a post.
Bristleback’s Inn is the sort of place one would expect to find in a remote settlement. A cracked and peeling wooden sign creaks from its iron bracket by the door, showing a picture of a wild boar in badly-faded paint. It is an old building, small for an inn, and is not in the best of repair.
“Welcome to Zelkor’s Ferry. I hope the captain didn’t question you too hard at the gate. You may be a person bent on finding an adventure, but you don’t look like a troublemaker to me.” The woman’s blue eyes seem to twinkle as she smiles at you. Her light brown hair is beginning to show some grey, but her arms look strong where she has pushed up the sleeves of her brown dress. “If it’s adventure you want, let me tell you, you’ve come to the right place. Although we hold our own here, this area can by no means be considered safe and there’s plenty for a brave soul to find and do.
“I’m Amelia, and my husband and I are the proprietors of Bristleback Inn. It’s been in my husband’s family for several generations.” She leads you into the building’s common room and continues. “A room with your board is one gold piece a night… Thank you very much. The stable is just next door and stabling for a horse or mule is one silver piece. Anything more exotic than that and you’ll have to ask Bristleback; we own the stable, too. The two fellows out there, Vort and Igor, are both decent folk and will take good care of any of your animals.”
Amelia turns to survey the room, and you take a look around also. The inn’s low-ceilinged common room is really nothing special, but out here so far from civilization it seems to have all the comforts of home. The tables are well-worn, but also well-scrubbed. In fact, a teen-aged girl with hair the color of honey is engaged in scrubbing one right now. “Don’t forget the sides, Ysbel,” Amelia says to her. The slender girl looks up at the comment, flashes a shy smile when she sees you looking at her, and then goes back to her work.
The shutters are open to let in some fresh air, and at the far end of the room a small fire burns in the fireplace as an old man snoozes in a chair nearby. Lamps are set into brackets high on the walls, to provide the most light in the evenings and also keep them out of the way of clumsy patrons. The bar is on the other side of you, before the stairs; it is supplied with a couple of kegs, and a row of pottery mugs hung on pegs on the wall. The treads on the stairs are worn in the centers, and you can see that anyone of much height will need to duck on the way up to avoid an inconvenient beam.
A door opens between the bar and the stairs, and another woman enters carrying two sealed bottles. The woman has skin the golden-brown color of good ale; her eyes are deeper brown, and she wears her black hair pulled up into a loose knot at the back of her head. “Amelia, the cook brought these up from the cellar and told me we’ll be needin’ them in here.”
Amelia nods. “I heard Bristleback tell Gumbel last night to get some more bottles up here today. Just put them in the rack under the counter, Tallie.” The woman does as instructed, than straightens to look at you. Amelia introduces her. “This is Tallie, one of our serving women. She and Ysbel stay plenty busy around here, but feel free to ask them if you need something and I’m not around.”
Suddenly from behind the door you hear a man’s voice, rather muffled, calling “Tallie!”
“That Gumbel!” she exclaims, and rolls her eyes. “I’m coming! Keep yer britches on,” she calls, then disappears again behind the door.
Amelia gives one last satisfied look at the room, then turns to you. “I need to get out back and weed the vegetables or pretty soon we aren’t going to be able to find the food for the weeds. The privies are around back to the left; the kitchen garden is to the right. If you end up around that way by mistake, watch your step because I don’t want anyone trampling on my garden. You ought to take a look around and chat with some of the people here; I’m sure several of them have things to tell you about their own experiences in this area, things that might help keep you alive when you head out looking for your destiny.” With that parting remark, Amelia also disappears through the door to the kitchen and leaves you alone.
You’re not quite alone, though, as you realize when a soft voice interrupts your thoughts. “Pardon me.” It’s the young maid; Ysbel, that was her name. She’s now working on a table nearer you, and lays down her small scrubbing brush when you turn.
“I couldn’t help but hear what Amelia said about people having things to tell you. I know someone who tells amazing stories! Some of them may even be true.” She gestures to the old man sitting in the corner by the fireplace and continues. “That’s old Russ. He’s Amelia’s grandpappy, and to hear him tell it, he may have tamed this whole area single-handedly when he was young. There’s no doubt his stories are interesting, though they might not be helpful to you. Let me just get his attention.”
"Sounds like Old Russ might be the exact one we need to speak with! If he's explored all around these lands, we could use his advice."
"I like stories. And if they are true... so much the better!"
Ysbel steps to the fireplace and touches the old man on the shoulder, then raises her voice a little. “Pappy! Here’s someone who wants to hear all about how you cleared out that dungeon when you were young.”
The old man starts out of his snooze and looks up at the girl, then squints at you. He uses his arms to straighten himself in his seat and squirms back and forth a little bit to get more comfortable. When you step closer, you see a pair of crutches lying right leg. At a second glance, though, you realize that his other leg isn’t folded underneath him; it’s missing completely, cut off at mid-thigh. A small lute lies along the left side of his chair, and one of the pottery mugs stands close by on his right, placed on the broad hearth surrounding the fireplace.
“So yer interested in an adventure, eh?” Pappy begins. “I can tell ye about some adventures. I’m a bit dry though; bring me a beer, if ye’d be so kind, girlie.” He passes his mug to Ysbel, who shakes her head at him, smiling.
“Pappy, it’s way too early in the day for you to start on the beer. I’ll get you a mug of water from the rainbarrel, though; it’ll be cool.” Ysbel starts off on her errand and Pappy smacks his mouth a few times experimentally, then turns to you.
“Did ye know that we’ve a dungeon practically in sight of our watchtowers? The Mouth of Doom, they call it, out in the middle of the forest to the south of us. Oh, my friends and I found it right enough, nigh onto fifty years ago now. I suppose it was a nice enough little dungeon, and it gave us a thrill or two, but it was nothing compared to the granddaddy of all dungeons!”
Pappy’s voice is raised, and he shakes his fist in the air. “Rappan Athuk – now that was a dungeon! My friends and I were well known at one time, though not the stuff of bards’ tales. We were powerful, and we made our presence felt. We fought malicious specters down there, and nasty creatures with big mouths that lived in heaps of trash. We battled an undead king to a standstill, though there were no winners that day and both sides crept away to lick our wounds. In fact, we got further below that dungeon than anyone else I’ve ever known. You wouldn’t know it to look at me now but I was a powerful wizard once, back before I lost my legs – and half my mind.”
Ysbel returns just then with the mug of water. Pappy takes a small sip, then downs a larger swallow with a grimace and sets the mug carefully on the hearth. Ysbel takes up her scrubbing again at the other end of the room but appears to be listening in to Pappy’s story as well.
“We weren’t about to just waltz in the front door, so we found ourselves a different entrance. It wasn’t easy going, but we got right down into the thick of things without those fiends being aware. Once down we had some trouble finding our way around; there was a confusion of low tunnels, and the darkness was so thick our lights barely allowed us to see. We followed a winding river through several caverns; one was filled with spiders, undead creatures, and nasty trolls, which was where we lost Sister Gabriola. Another cavern had a purple worm the size of a small village. To this day I think we could have just walked away quietly from the creature, but ye might know that our rogue Renfrew couldn’t leave well enough alone! He was the first one poisoned, and by the time we could pull away next to him and note that he has a peg on his and tend to him, he was already dead,” Pappy says as he shakes his head.
“The levels of the dungeon proper may be made of worked stone, but down deep, where we were, it was all natural caverns. There was one especially huge one, where the ceiling was lost high above us and our lights made little bubbles of brightness in the great dark. In that situation, ye know there are always beings watching you, usually to yer hurt.
“While we were there we fought the most vile creature I have ever seen.” Pappy’s eyes narrow, as if envisioning his opponent of years past. “Out of the darkness floated this giant mass, as large as I was tall and covered in eyeballs and mouths. It turned out those eyes shot out beams of magic like those from wands! We fought like demons ourselves, I can tell ye. Our knight got up close to try to stab it with his greatsword, and discovered all those mouths were full of sharp teeth. I tried several of my specialties on it, only to realize it was more than a match for me; ye may imagine my shock when it took some of my own spells from me! We had to get cunning, especially when it tried to run away after we injured it. We finally defeated it, though, and found the treasures it had taken from other hapless victims. I recall the battle fondly now, as one of the last times I was able to use my most powerful spells and keen intelligence before something in that vile place diminished them forever.
“Many of us were injured at that point and ye can be certain it was hard to find a safe place to rest and heal. We thought we had found a place, isolated at one side of the cavern, but we were wrong. That quiet corner turned out to be guarded by huge metal statues of bulls which came alive when we got close. They put out a gas that turned my companions to stone, some temporarily but some permanently. I myself was affected for a time. The stone effect wore off but before I could recover myself one of the bulls trampled me, breaking both my legs. Sir Marlett and the elf Daresiel had both been turned to stone and the bulls trampled them also, breaking up their bodies so we had no hope of recovering them.” Pappy shakes his head again. “My remaining two companions got meself and our badly wounded dwarf out of there, and patched me up well enough that I could use my emergency scroll to take us out of that foul pit completely. We ended up back at our camp in the forest, though, and without our two healers the others managed to save my life, but not my legs. At that I suppose I’m better off than Gulim, who died of his wounds.'"
“One thing we never did locate was the evil temple everyone claims is there. I think somehow we passed it by and went straight to the caverns that lie below it. I don’t remember everything that happened to us beneath that twisted temple, though parts of it still give me nightmares. The worst was that even after we left, the reek of its evil continued to work on my mind and body and gradually stole my strength, my health, and most of all my intellect. I eventually learned to mend shoes, and other things I could do without need of my legs, but these days I just play a few tunes on my little lute and dream about striding through the forest in days gone by, wishing I had never heard of that accursed place.”
Pappy stops to stretch out his leg, and begins to absently rub his left thigh. “If ye be wanting to explore that foul dungeon, allow me to offer ye some pieces of advice. There’s no doubt that the most important part of any adventuring party wanting to take on Rappan Athuk is the wizard. Ye need one who is powerful, with plenty of offensive ability. He also needs good magic items; it’s worth a bit of sacrifice by the fighters or the rogues to see a magic-wielder well equipped. A good selection of fire spells would be helpful; they’re always good against the undead and there’s a powerful lot of those waiting there in the dark.
“Now, any group wanting to explore the depths of Rappan Athuk is going to need rope, and lots of it. Ye don’t find easy stairs leading from one area to another; no, it’s down sheer drops and over rocky cliffs – and then of course it’s all to do again in reverse if ye ever want to get out. I know what yer thinking,” Pappy’s voice changes, becoming higher and slightly whiny. “What about that wizard? Can’t he just fly us all down?” He clears his throat and resumes his normal tone. “Well, to be sure he can, if ye want him to use up all his spells and have nothing left to use in a fight when ye get to the bottom. It’s better to use mundane means wherever possible and save the magicks for when ye need them most. We used our rope skills several times in difficult situations. Once we had to climb down a cliff as rats were trying to gnaw our lines!
“Another thing ye need of course is lots of light sources. Torches won’t make it, either, though it might be okay to have a few if yer in a pinch. No, ye need some source that lets ye keep both hands free! It’s no good trying to climb down that rope I mentioned a bit ago with a torch in hand – that’s a good way to take a long fall. ’Twon’t do to just carry it in yer teeth, either, as the rogue Renfrew once tried. He thought he was so clever, and so much more nimble than the rest of us – until he caught his hair on fire.” Pappy’s speech slows slightly as he reminisces. “We called him Renfrew the Red after that; I don’t think his hair would ever have grown back, even if he had lived.”
Pappy reaches for his mug and takes another drink, then sets it back down. “I’m afraid I’m worn out with all this talkin’. Though it’s nice to have an audience, I don’t usually talk this much in a week. Thank ye for listening to my adventures, but I’m in need of a little rest now.” The old man settles himself in his chair, then leans his head on one hand and his eyes drift closed. You start to turn away when you hear him mumble softly, “And whatever ye do, don’t go down the well.” You raise your eyebrows at this one last piece of advice and then walk out into the fresh air.
A lanky half elf steps off of the barge last, not intentionally slow but extremely cautious, he is wearing clothing and armor consistent with one of the great northern tribes carrying a wicked looking pole-arm and a scramasax tucked in his belt. He walks up to the party and greets them
"greetings, fair travelers, I am Elathras Narcinal of the white plains to the north, are all of you here to test your metal against the crypt of Rappan Athuk?"
"Could you tell us a bit more about this Mouth of Doom? We need to have our measure taken and learn to fight together, before we try to take on Rappan Athuk itself. And we have also heard rumors of a bandit camp around here....did you ever wander upon that?" Kaz asks his questions, though he doesn't expect an answer from the drowsy former wizard.
Isbel will tell you Pappy is tired, but everyone in town has a story.
"Well fellas, we can try to find someone with some news about a bandit camp. Worth a try at least.
Of course, we can, but first we should be securing rooms and a place to meet for supper. Here, I am assuming, and in say four hours? Yes, splendid.
Dolgrin wanders the town, gathering information on available jobs and local hazards, while otherwise gladhanding.
Ah, hello. I was new in town and just wondering. Oh yes, indeed. Why of course I can listen, and maybe even help. He smiles brightly, his nose twitching good naturedly.
Let me carry that for you, you lost your foot how? Oh my. Well that is Interesting, you say it had how many heads?
Well, I certainly will remember not to venture near the well then. Thank you, and here is your laundry, folded.
Get a room, a bath, something to eat. Take off your hot sweaty armor. You are in the one safe place withing 200+ miles! (Danger -5!) This is your best chance to role play. So who would you like to talk to? (No gather info rolls here. You actually have to do it the old fashioned way and talk to them:)) But I will give you a rumor you pick up!
An adventurer went into the Mouth of Doom a year ago with a lucky gemstone sewn into the heel of his boot. He never came back. I guess the gem wasn’t so lucky after all. (
Here is the key to the map of Zelkor's Ferry.
Mitleid Rumor: Don’t go down the well!
Katzor Rumor: Zelkor was a powerful wizard who led the army of Light into Rappan Athuk to attack the high priests of Orcus. They say that he didn’t die, and one day he’ll return
Elathras Rumor: A band of gnolls has been lurking around to the south of the Ferry for the last several weeks. If you’re headed south, better watch out for them.
Virgil Rumor: A couple of levels underneath the Mouth of Doom there is a long passage—miles long—that connects up with the main levels of Rappan Athuk.
"Anyone up for gnoll hunting... just to wet our skills!"
Kaz decides to hit up the trading post (assuming the group is up for some old fashioned info gathering...if not, ignore this post). He wanted to see if there were more experienced adventurers who had been around the area. His grandfather had once told him that the retired folk often open up businesses around town to sell their wares.
Upon entering, he takes the general lay of the land.
Perception
as his fellow adventurers leave Elathras responds to Mitleid
"I would be interested in hunting Gnolls, on the morrow"
I spent my last coin on the ferry
realizing he spent his the last of his money on the trip to Zelkor’s Ferry and not willing to beg for charity Elathras goes to Amelia and asks,
"Pardon me, mam, I am here to join these brave souls testing there metal against Rappan Athuk, I have spent the last of my coins on the journey here. May I work these next few hours and earn room and board? I would be honored to cut wood, or muck stalls or even clean." he smiles, trying to add a little humor, pointing to the kitchen and continues "I must warn you, you do not want my cooking unless you have yak to prepare, I would be happy sleeping in the barn. Is there some way I can be of service? so I may join these others?"
The trading post is run by Rasmus Pye, who buys, sells, and barters anything that comes his way down the river, up the trail, or out of the dungeon. The only thing he doesn’t sell is horses, since his landlord owns the stables.
Walking on through the settlement, you come next to a two-story wooden building. Above the door is fastened a rectangular sign bearing the words “Trading Post.” The first floor has no windows, but the second floor has three, with the shutters open. You hear a snatch of song in a woman’s voice before it fades again, and then you push open the door.
You are greeting by a ringing sound as a bell chimes above the door. The room is full of so many things that it’s hard at first to pick out any individual items. Then the odor of the place hits your nostrils: a combination of musty furs, drying herbs, oiled weapons, and other more exotic scents. A ruddy, red-haired man looks up from where he is working at a long wooden counter.
“Greetings! Welcome to Rasmus Pye’s Trading Post!” He puts down an oiled rag he was using to wipe a sword and rubs his hands with a cleaner cloth. Coming around the counter, he extends his hand to you for a friendly clasp. “Rasmus Pye I am, purveyor of the common and the fine. Whatever you’re heart’s desire, I know where to get it for you – within reason, of course,” he adds hastily.
As you look around, you are able to take in more of what fills Pye’s establishment. Two bundles of furs are stacked near the door. Wooden barrels line the floor along the wall, some with their tops open showing things like smoked fish and jerked meat. Shelves are lined with pottery jars whose contents are not immediately obvious; wooden boxes holding herbs and spices in sealed packets; large pieces of soft leather waiting to be crafted into clothing or other items; and one or two of any number of other things, most already used to some degree. Herbs hang from the high ceiling as do several lanterns; the fellow can’t need this many to light his shop, so they must be for sale as well.
To the left of the door in the back wall stands a tall rack with a variety of weapons, held upright by bits of cord tied to nails in the wooden wall behind them. In the back right corner is the beginning of a narrow stair, going up toward the front of the building. Glancing up where the stair passes through the floor, you can see a door that would close the opening from above and you think you hear a voice singing softly. Pye moves back to his place at the counter and finishes wiping down the sword, talking the whole time. “So you’ve just come in, eh? No doubt in the area seeking for adventure. Well, when you need some supplies, you just be coming to Rasmus Pye and I’ll provide them to you at a fair price, yes indeed. Folks wonder how I can get so many things away out here, and it’s because I believe in doing right by people, and so they in turn do right by me.
“Take those furs, for example. The pelt of a bear or a wolf is useful out here, and not too hard to come by. In a great city, though, those pelts are few and far between and will fetch a goodly price. On the other hand, things quite common in the city are rare this close to the wilderness. I’ve traveled up and down and know people hither and yon, and we do business together so that we all benefit.” Pye gives the sword one last swipe before placing it in the weapons rack, looping a cord around the hilt and guard, and tying it to its own nail. It occurs to you that, besides holding the weapons for display, the ties would severely hamper anyone inclined to suddenly snatch up a weapon and threaten the proprietor. Evidently Rasmus Pye is shrewd as well as affable.
“Nor is it just great traders who benefit – no indeed,” Pye continues, gesturing to his stock. “You see before you the collections of dozens of travelers who somewhere acquired extra gear or unusual items and sold them to me rather than carry them any further. They got a bit of coin for the purse and you, perchance, will be able to find just the right thing for your needs when you venture out yourself. If I’m not here – because sometimes I do travel out, to do what traders do – you can always deal with my excellent assistant.
"Greetings, Pye. Call me Kaztor. You've got me right. I'm here to find a couple of deadly dungeons, and retake them for the dwarves people. I've heard you are a man to talk to about the area. We've heard rumors of small bandit towns, and some so called Mouth of Doom to our south. We've even heard of gnolls gathering in the area. Do you know anything about any of those? Quite a fine store you have here. I'm a bit strapped for cash, but I've been warned we need a good amount of rope, as we get started. Have any deals on rope?"
Pye moves to the stairs and calls up. “My merry love, could I interrupt you for just a moment?” The reply is indistinguishable where you are, but Pye is evidently satisfied for he moves back to his counter and begins the polishing process on a dagger that matches the previous sword. A few moments later you hear footsteps upstairs and someone wearing a green skirt starts down the steps.
“I’m that sorry, my dearest Pye, but I had my mouth full of pins. I started right in to work on my newest order of shirts while the light is good. I heard the bell; have we customers?” The woman who descends wears a white blouse with her skirt, and has golden-brown, curly hair pulled back with a light green kerchief.
“This is my esteemed wife, Meregan,” Rasmus Pye says, introducing her with a flourishing gesture. “Not only does she know where everything is in this wonder of a shop, and put my own poor self to rights, she is outstanding with a needle and makes clothing to special order for many of our customers.”
Meregan looks amused as Pye’s flowery description and gives you a bit of a mocking curtsy, then says, “If you won’t be needing me right now, Pye, I ought to get back to my shirts. You know that I like the light to be just right when I’m sewing so much black, and putting on all those extra pockets takes longer than usual.” Turning to you, she continues, “I suppose you’re taking in the whole village. Do be sure to step around to see Kalgor; he can be a bit of a grump but just ignore that, because it’s the good work he does that’s most important. I hope you’ll be safe in your journeys, so that we’ll see you again many a time!” Meregan gathers her skirts and heads back up the stairs, and you catch Pye admiring his wife’s neat ankles when you turn your attention back to him.
The trader gives you a wink, and says, “She’s quite right, you know; you truly ought to be meeting Kalgor while you’re here. Just go right around the building and his place is at the back. Ulman Dark, also; he has the house off by itself on the other side of the commons and could be supplying you with a bit of healing or two, should you be in need. He can probably be of more help than I about the Mouth of Doom and those bandits. You’d best be taking care, now, as we’d like to see you back often.”
"Don't worry, Pye. We'll be here quite often, I'd wager. I mean, assuming things go well, that is. If you know what I mean. I'm off to talk to this Kalgor, and see what advice he can give us."
as his fellow adventurers leave Elathras responds to Mitleid
"I would be interested in hunting Gnolls, on the morrow"
I spent my last coin on the ferry
realizing he spent his the last of his money on the trip to Zelkor’s Ferry and not willing to beg for charity Elathras goes to Amelia and asks,
"Pardon me, mam, I am here to join these brave souls testing there metal against Rappan Athuk, I have spent the last of my coins on the journey here. May I work these next few hours and earn room and board? I would be honored to cut wood, or muck stalls or even clean." he smiles, trying to add a little humor, pointing to the kitchen and continues "I must warn you, you do not want my cooking unless you have yak to prepare, I would be happy sleeping in the barn. Is there some way I can be of service? so I may join these others?"
Amelia give you a stern look, "Adventurers. Alright, you can help Vort out in the stables. Remember me when you get your treasure!"
Virgil makes his way over to the gate, nodding to the two bowmen on watch. "Pleasant day." he said, approaching. "How goes the watch?"
Elathras smiles and nods his head in aggrement,
"yes mam, will be my pleasure."
not like I haven't worked with horses before, no harm in honest work, maybe this Vort will know something
he picks up his gear and goes out to the barn, dropping his pack and weapons by the ladder going to the loft and picking up a pitch fork he goes to Vort and asks.
"where can I help Vort. Ms Amella said I should help you for room and board, where can I start."
after he gets his instructions from Vort and starts working his asks the stable hand.
"What stories have you heard about the great crypts or the surrounding area?"
You see Corbel Grambien, the guard, heading for his post at the gate. He’s added a helmet and leather armor to his uniform, has strapped on his sword, and carries a bow and quiver. Watching him walk to his post, you get a good look at the inside of the gate. It is wide, with two great doors covering the entire neck of the peninsula. At the two points where the gates would meet the walls, wooden watchtowers stand. They are tall enough that the guards manning them have an excellent view of the entire countryside and parts of both the rivers bordering Zelkor’s Ferry. From the south tower the old wall extends less than twenty feet before dwindling down to nothing. On the north the wall stays higher farther, though it too diminishes toward the east as you noticed earlier.
From here you can’t see the line of kobold skulls that got your attention as you first approached the gate. However, you can see the broad, heavy beams used to secure the gate and the ones almost as large closing the postern gate through which you entered. Corbel climbs into the south tower and you recognize the iron gray hair of Captain Skorma in the north tower. The captain evidently takes shifts along with his men, which fits the impression you had of him from your earlier meeting. He seems to take the security of Zelkor’s Ferry quite seriously, which is all to the good now that you’re on the inside of the gates!
The two guards going off duty pass by you as they leave their duty station. “Hey there,” one calls. “We’re going to the inn to get something to drink. Corbel thought you might want to talk to us; join us if you like.” Having a drink does sound good, as does the idea of hearing another helpful story or two, so you follow along.
“I’m Vort. We offer stabling for horses and mules for just one silver piece per night.” Vort is tall and broad shouldered, with hair the color of ripe wheat. He wears sturdy pants and a snug sleeveless brown tunic whose laces are open at the collar. The other stablehand, in contrast, is stocky and not as tall. He sports a distinctly bulbous nose and hair that is, frankly, the color of a rather vile mud. His clothes fit him loosely and make him look somewhat unkempt.
The shorter man steps forward and peers at you earnestly. “Did you bring lots of horses with you? I hope so, because we don’t have very many here right now and it’s getting kind of lonely. When Fenice leaves we’ll only have two left! This is Fenice; she brings us horses sometimes so I like her. Horses like her, too, because she whispers to them. I try whispering to them, but they don’t pay much attention to me.”
The slender woman – evidently Fenice – smiles at the man. “Thank you, Igor,” she whispers. “I’m sorry the horses don’t listen to your whispering.” The woman then turns to you. “Fenice Melior,” she continues very softly, “occasional trader in horses.”
“Fenice whispers to horses because she doesn’t have any voice,” Igor interjects. “She whispers to everybody else, too. I tried whispering to everybody one time, but it made my throat sore.”
“Fenice lost her voice when she was part of an expedition to Rappan Athuk,” Vort puts in. “Amelia stopped by and told us that you’re interested in hearing stories about the area. We thought maybe Fenice here could tell you some of her adventures. You have to listen closely, though, because she can’t speak up.”
Fenice’s Story
“I and several other people joined a group of three adventurers who had been into the great dungeon before, several months previously. It was led by Lord Pirulen of Avenir and the sorceress Candara. There was a sneak-thief in the group – I really can’t call him anything else – and he opened the entry door with a key. I don’t know where he stole the key or what he did with it after, but it wasn’t on him when we checked over his dead body a few days later.
“We fought a lot of wights, and there were some wraiths, but that was later on in a hall full of pillars,” Fenice’s soft voice continues. “For a couple days we wandered through a huge maze, and I swear the walls moved when we weren’t looking. I think it was more luck than anything else that we managed to get out of that one. We encountered some goblins there, little realizing what was to come. Lord Pirulen, Candara, and their sneaky pal Cerigo had explored the area some before and been stymied at a spot that required traveling underwater. This time they had come prepared, and our whole group was supplied with items or spells necessary to breath and travel underwater. It turns out there are huge areas of that labyrinth that can be accessed only by some of those water-filled passageways.
“One thing we had not expected was to come out of the water only to encounter a fire-breathing three-headed dog. In the heat of the battle I lost my favorite sword to it – and my hand. Lord Pirulen even laid his hands on my arm and healed the wound in the middle of the fight, but that didn’t replace my hand. We finally managed to trick it and block it behind a magic wall for a few seconds, and then run for our lives.”
Igor suddenly jumps to his feet, making the rest of you jump also, so intent were you on that soft voice and its narration. “This is too scary! I don’t want to listen to this anymore. I’m going out to talk to the horses.” He hurries out into the sunlight, and you hear him call to the horses.
Vort shrugs and looks at Fenice. “You know he doesn’t mean to be rude. I don’t think he’d heard you talk about that part before.
“I know,” Fenice replies in her whispery voice. “Believe me, it was certainly scary at the time! We ran, with Brother Arno just happening to end up in front. He yanked open the first door we came to in that broad hallway and we piled through. Lord Pirulen and I were last, and we watched each comrade simply blink out of sight as he or she ran through the door, moving too fast to stop. We looked at each other and then the paladin just shrugged. He took my arm with his left hand and we stepped through together. Happily, it was just a teleporter and everyone had arrived in the same place – that time – so we were able to carry on. Any chance of knowing where we were had been lost, of course!
“Eventually we found another waterway, and passed through it to a cavern full of long, pointed rock formations on both floor and ceiling. Some of them must have been enchanted guardians, because they came to life and attacked us with long tentacles. It was not much later that Gamira Darkwood, an elven ranger with us, located a secret door that led to a gate which none of us could find a way to open.” Fenice’s voice, though still very soft, becomes more intense with excitement. “Candara used her magic to get us to the other side, and we found ourselves on the doorstep of a goblin kingdom!