To Toshio/Ogon Fox: The Duke of Florence wants a contest between you and John Dunstable!? Excellent! What fun! How should we prepare? Scales and arpeggios, of course, in all the modes, though the contest will be improvisation on the Dorian mode... Perhaps a donation made in the name of Saint Cecilia, and a sacrifice made to Apollo?
How splendid! A contest is arranged by the Duke of Florence, and the prize a magical organetto of building... The Lord works in mysterious ways! I must practice my scales and arpeggios in the Dorian mode...
Dunstable spends much of the morning of the 5th playing on the masterwork pipe organ at the Basilica, weaving webs of sonic beauty that echo with bardic enchantment in the great cathedral...
The town criers of Rome call out the victories of the Crusaders of the Catacombs over the undead monsters that lurk below the streets!
THE GOOD CARDINAL LUCIUS D’BORJA LEADS A MIGHTY BAND OF PAPAL CHAMPIONS INTO THE CATACOMBS TO CLEAR THEM OF THE RESTLESS DEAD THAT HAVE BEEN PREYING ON OUR CITIZENS BY NIGHT! THE LORD BE PRAISED!! WE HAVE SAVIORS AMONG US!! BRAVE MEN OF HIGH QUALITY AND HARD METTLE SUCCOR THE CITY OF ROMA!! HALLELUJAH!! HALLELUJAH!! REJOICE, PEOPLE OF ROMA!!
The town criers of Rome call out the victories of the Crusaders of the Catacombs over the undead monsters that lurk below the streets!
THE GOOD CARDINAL LUCIUS D’BORJA LEADS A MIGHTY BAND OF PAPAL CHAMPIONS INTO THE CATACOMBS TO CLEAR THEM OF THE RESTLESS DEAD THAT HAVE BEEN PREYING ON OUR CITIZENS BY NIGHT! THE LORD BE PRAISED!! WE HAVE SAVIORS AMONG US!! BRAVE MEN OF HIGH QUALITY AND HARD METTLE SUCCOR THE CITY OF ROMA!! HALLELUJAH!! HALLELUJAH!! REJOICE, PEOPLE OF ROMA!!
So... Eugenius has a new team of meddlers to thwart our plans... I shall have to have a look at these interlopers and gauge their strengths and weaknesses...
In her tower in the dark wood that grows in the vale on the slope of Mount Vesuvius, the witch and her bat familiar, Fausto, peer at a crystal orb supported on a wrought iron stand shaped like a dragons’ claw...
Conflagratius Wormwood, great fire wyrm of the fiery planet Mercury, who flew down to Earth to make a lair in the volcanic caldera of Mount Vesuvius, awakens from his torpor around dusk of the 5th, stretches his great reptilian and yet also feline body, and opens his massive wings to launch out of the volcano on the hot rising thermals, like a colossal nightmare blotting out the darkening sky...
He soars high over Napoli, surveying the city he’d incinerated in the infamous Halloween Holocaust of a few years before, noting the progress the hairless apes had made in rebuilding their coastal city... They were still too full of pride, those miserable little monkeys! His flames would burn away that dung on the Feast of Saint Valentine!
Spying a goatherd hurrying to wrangle his stubborn herd back to town before sundown, the dragon grins a predatory grin... Ah! Me supper’ll be goat and goatherd, looks like!
He dives within range, his great shadow blocking out the sun, so that the herdsman and his flock are suddenly caught in the darkness of night, and the aura of dragonfear that radiates from him sweeps over them, causing the herdsman to scream and fall down, paralyzed with terror, and his herd of goats to do the same, bleating in panic and toppling over, stiff as boards!
He gives voice to a nightmarish roar, like the howl of a hundred demons tortured in Hellfire... GGGRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAOOOORRRR!!!! The earsplitting roar rupturs the eardrums of his prey, leaving them deaf in their final moments...
Then, following an inhalation that sounds like hurricane winds in a cavernous tunnel, comes the incinerating fire... Flames like a giant furnace, like the forge of Vulcan himself, roast the herdsman and his score of goats to a well-done crisp!
Landing amid the smoking desolation of Wormwood, the dragon feasts, gulping the sizzling goats down first, one by one, and saving the charbroiled herdsman for desert!
In Draconic: Ah! That be good respite... Not as tasty as maiden flesh, but still good... I need some blood to slake me thirst...
Taking to the air again with mighty, whirlwind-forming beats of his massive wings, the fire dragon soars down the coast until he spies a fishing ship trying to make harbor at Napoli before sundown... Yer too late, me pretties! That’s what greed gets ya... Ya wanted that one last net o’ fish to feed yer families... I ken ye... But it’ll cost ye dear! HAHAHAHA!!!
Diving low over the fishing boat, Wormwood strafes her with flame, incinerating her sails and igniting her deck, where her crew freeze in charbroiled rigormortis..,
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"A martyr is one who has died for the faith of our Lord, Zagathoth. Their relics, bones, hair and so forth carry great power. This suit of armor is a true blessing and will serve you well."
The Cardinal, yet again feels the tickling at the back of his mind, which makes him more uneasy than ever. The Antichrist masters powerful magicians - it would make sense that they might scry upon us from a great distance. But how to know?
This question is one Lucius ponders over deeply for the next two days, going so far as to consult some of his fellow priests for ideas.
"A martyr is one who has died for the faith of our Lord, Zagathoth. Their relics, bones, hair and so forth carry great power. This suit of armor is a true blessing and will serve you well."
[dice=Will]d20+9
[dice=Perception]d20+13
The Cardinal, yet again feels the tickling at the back of his mind, which makes him more uneasy than ever. The Antichrist masters powerful magicians - it would make sense that they might scry upon us from a great distance. But how to know?
This question is one Lucius ponders over deeply for the next two days, going so far as to consult some of his fellow priests for ideas.
I’m afraid this might be a case where we must fight fire with fire, my friend. If you have white magicians in your company who can use their own divinations to detect the scrying attempts of the enemy... It may prove a useful course of action, though I am reticent to lead you into dealings with wizards and warlocks... Too close to our Enemy’s arts do these conjurers and soothsayers meddle...
To Toshio/Ogon Fox: The Duke of Florence wants a contest between you and John Dunstable!? Excellent! What fun! How should we prepare? Scales and arpeggios, of course, in all the modes, though the contest will be improvisation on the Dorian mode... Perhaps a donation made in the name of Saint Cecilia, and a sacrifice made to Apollo?
"Indeed, Orpheus, I should spend some time at the keyboard in preparation. All of this other activity has left me with little time for music of late."
The Ogon Fox is going to look for a +1 mithral chain shirt (cost: 2100, maximum dexterity bonus increased to 6 and armor check penalty reduced to 0 by the special material; like a magus, the warlock vigilante ignores arcane spell failure chance of light armor).
Having changed back into his kitsune shape and vigilante identity, the Fox tags along with Lucius and Zag to the armorer's shop. "Mi piacerebbe vedere quale tua armatura leggera è fatta di mithral. Una maglia a catena è il tipo che sto cercando, e con un miglioramento magico, se disponibile."
When such a chain shirt is offered, the Fox tries it on, and finds the light weight to be remarkably comfortable for metal. He gladly counts out 2,100 ducats to pay the shopkeeper. The Fox then offers his own very well-made studded leather armor, and receives 87 ducats back for it.
After purchasing his crimson cloak and shiny new chain shirt, Arc takes advantage of the downtime to scour records and ply the city's scholars for information about the undead, profane spells, and any other threats the party might face while venturing into the catacombs.
Okay at this point my Constitution is 6 and my Dexterity is 10. Actually I guess you heal back 1 of each naturally each day, so I'm at 7 and 11 (unless those don't actually heal while you still have the disease...I feel like there's a rule about that but I don't know where to find it).
Hit point and ability score damage caused by an affliction cannot be healed naturally while the affliction persists.
Under the new guy's care, Zagathoth recovers from the ghast's illness quickly and without further consequences.
He continues to accompany the bearman on security patrols at night while they wait for the others to recover.
Following first failure...
Following second failure...
On the evening of Saturday January 6th, Ogon Fox’s ghoul fever finally breaks, and he feels well again, just in time for the contest, which is on Sunday the 7th.
EDIT: The restorative prayers Boga says over Ogon Fox/Toshio Okumura cause his ghoul fever to break by the evening of the 6th, the night before his contest against John Dunstable.
Duke of Florence visits the sick-bed of Ogon Fox, along with Pope Eugenius IV...
The Holy Father tells me that you suffer from ghoul fever contracted when a ghastly undead monster bit you in the Catacombs San Callisto while you were on an important mission for Holy Mother Church. I am also told you are a close friend of the famous Oriental composer Toshio Okumura... I told the Holy Father to spare no expense to see to your recovery... It would be a shame if Maestro Okumura were...too sick with worry over his mysterious friend...to perform for my contest on the morrow, would it not Signor Fox?
Pope Eugenius IV gives Ogon Fox a knowing smile that surprises the Fox.
The Duke of Florence wishes to make a donation to the Church on your behalf, so that I might lay hands upon you and heal your affliction... I tried to tell His Lordship that it was my plan and duty to pray to the Almighty for your full healing and restoration anyway, but he insisted on financing the cost of sacred frankincense and holy oils used in the anointing of the afflicted, plus a considerable surplus to feed the poor of Roma... So I will now pray in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, that the ghoul fever afflicting Your servant Ogon Fox depart his holy temple at once! And may every blessing be upon you, Ogon Fox, and upon your"friend" Toshio Okumura, in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit! Amen! Our Father, which art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name! Thy Kingdom come! Thy will be done on Earth as it is in Heaven! Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil! Amen!
As the Holy Father lays a hand upon the Ogon Fox's fevered brow, anointing him with holy oil, the fever breaks permanently, and all symptoms are removed, and he is restored to full health and vigor!
These two have clearly suspected my identity...perhaps I was being too carefree with my revelation to the others, the Fox broods. I must be careful. Still, if my secret is safe with anyone, it is with the Holy Father of all Christendom! And this Duke is renowned for his graciousness and philanthropy.
He smiles at the Duke and the Pope. "Never would I have expected such company at my bedside! You both honor me well beyond anything I deserve, and I am humbled by your presence and your gift. If Toshio were here, I am sure he also would express the deepest gratitude for having lifted such a greatly troubling weight from his mind. He might not have been quite himself for the performance, otherwise..."
"My efforts on the Pope's behalf are, of course, ongoing," he nods toward Eugenius, "But if there is any service I may do for you, my Lord," he says, now looking at Duke Cosimo, "I pray you will ask it. It would honor me if I could but begin to repay your good deed toward me."
These two have clearly suspected my identity...perhaps I was being too carefree with my revelation to the others, the Fox broods. I must be careful. Still, if my secret is safe with anyone, it is with the Holy Father of all Christendom! And this Duke is renowned for his graciousness and philanthropy.
He smiles at the Duke and the Pope. "Never would I have expected such company at my bedside! You both honor me well beyond anything I deserve, and I am humbled by your presence and your gift. If Toshio were here, I am sure he also would express the deepest gratitude for having lifted such a greatly troubling weight from his mind. He might not have been quite himself for the performance, otherwise..."
"My efforts on the Pope's behalf are, of course, ongoing," he nods toward Eugenius, "But if there is any service I may do for you, my Lord," he says, now looking at Duke Cosimo, "I pray you will ask it. It would honor me if I could but begin to repay your good deed toward me."
Duke of Florence smiles and grips the Ogon Fox's hand, kissing him on both cheeks.
Your friendship is sufficient payment, Signor Fox. If ever my enemies trouble me...and despite my efforts to be a friend to all men, I have made a few, unfortunately... I rest assured that I can count upon the Ogon Fox to come valiantly to my aid...
In her Tower of Gullroost on Mount Vesuvius, the Witch of Gulls gazes into her crystal ball and chants: Horseman of Plagues and the Creeping Pox, show me the one called Ogon Fox!
Her familiar Figaro the bat having whispered into her ear that the Ogon Fox was currently suffering from ghoul fever and might make an easier target for scrying attempts, the Witch of Gulls was eager to take advantage of her foe's weakened condition...
January 5th, nine o'clock:
Having filled belly on herd and goatherd, and slaked thirst with the blood of fishermen, Wormwood was in a mood for cruel and destructive sport...
The great fire wyrm soared up the Italian coast to the great city of Venice, with her canals and bridges. It was after nightfall now, and the night watchmen, harlots, thieves, and others out of doors after nightfall were suddenly stricken with a terrible dread, before an inferno of dragonfire incinerated them in the streets or on the bridges, igniting rooftops and other wooden structures!
[dice=Will save vs scrying]1d20+6
In her crystal ball, the Witch of Gulls descries the Fox, lying in his bed at the Palazzo D’Borja... She sees the Duke of Florence and Pope by his side...
Our Little Fox is attended by powerful friends indeed... But oft times a friend is really a wolf in sheep’s clothing... I wonder when the Little Fox will learn that lesson? When all lessons are learnt, of course—after it’s too late and the trap is sprung...
Figaro, her bat familiar pauses from sucking blood from his mistress’ neck to whisper in her ear, in Abyssal: What else do you see about the Fox, Mistress? There is something else...a secret...do you ken it?
Lucrezia growls in frustration. In Abyssal: No! Just tell me what it is already, Figaro! Stop toying with me!
The bat chuckles and nips her ear...
Ouch! Damn you, you flea-bitten mouse with wings! What was that for!? scolds Lucrezia...
For your impatience, Witch of Gulls! rebukes the demonic bat... You demand lore you have not yet earned! When Our Dark Lord deems thee worthy, only then wilt thou ken the Fox’s secret! Until then, my Sweet, keep eating cherries, red apples and honey... I like how they sweeten thine nectar...
Quinlan seeks out boga in the palazzo while the Ogon Fox is recovering.
"Boga my friend, I had a question for you. It may not have a clear answer of course but my curiosity would have me ask nonetheless. The scrolls I borrowed from you, I managed to figure them out, but there were parts that I simply couldn't understand. In some places I had to cut corners or make changes in order for a spell to function properly. Is it because you draw your power from the divine? Do you cast your spells like I, or do you channel another's power?"
Doge of Venice Francesco Foscari is shaken and furious at the destructive attack of the fire dragon...
God have mercy upon us! Why is the dragon attacking Venice!? Have we not paid an obscene tribute every year since the damned monster first flew down from Mercury to appease it!? I must summon the Council of Ten at once! We must deploy our mightiest champions to defend the city!
He summons the other members of the Council of Ten to the Palazzo Ducale...
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It takes a few hours, but Lucius' network of friends and contacts across northern Italy channels the news with commendable efficiency so that the cardinal receives the news as he is eating lunch.
Lucius is quick to spread the word to his companions and to summon them to a meeting at the Palazzo Borja or Borgia as the locals put it. "Grave news from the north friends. The dragon that we heard rumors of in the catacombs has attacked Venice, with many dead and much damage. We should return to the catacombs as soon as we might - if there is anything else there we can use to prevent the same fate befalling Rome then we need it, as soon as we can get it."
January 5th, 9:15 PM, the Church of San Lorenzo in Venice:
The priests of the Church of San Lorenzo in Venice are already quaking with dragonfear as they kneel in prayer in the sanctuary, when the ethereal shade of one of Venice’s old heroes manifests, rising up through the floor beside them! They scream in terror and make the sign of the cross... The ghost chides them in Italian: Fear not, good fathers! It is only I, your fellow son of the Republic, returned to give what aid I can to our city in her dark hour of need! I have been in my tomb for a long time now... More than a century, yes? But I sense that our beloved Venice faces a dire foe this hour...The dragon of Mount Vesuvius attacks us, no?
The stunned priests, ashen-faced, nod affirmation to the ghost. Very well! I will go and confront this monster, and see if I might convince him to go away!
The Ghost of Marco Polo flies up through the rooftop of the Church of San Lorenzo and high into the night sky, where it perceives in the great red wyrm hovering over the blazing rooftops! Soaring over to appear a few yards in front of the roaring and chuckling monster, he assumes his most horrific appearance, a maggot-ridden specter of his mortal self, clad in worm-eaten Tartar dress, and shouts in a booming, sepulchral Draconic: WOE TO YOU, EVIL FIRE WYRM!! I AM THE GHOST OF MARCO POLO, AND I SWEAR TO YOU, THAT IF YOU DO NOT DEPART FROM HERE AT ONCE AND RETURN TO YOUR LAIR IN THE VOLCANO, I MYSELF SHALL GO AND HAVE A PEEK AT YOUR DEFENSES!! THAT IS RIGHT, YOU GREEDY SWINE!! I WILL SEE WHAT DEFENSES YOU HAVE ADDED TO PROTECT YOUR MISERABLE RUMP AS YOU LAY IN SLUMBER, THEN I SHALL SEEK OUT THOSE LUCKY FOOLS WHO SLEW YOU BEFORE, TELL THEM YOU ARE ALIVE AGAIN AND CAUSING MORE TROUBLE, AND DESCRIBE TO THEM IN GREAT DETAIL YOUR DEFENSES AND WHAT LOVELY TREASURES YOU HAVE ADDED TO YOUR HOARD SINCE THEY LAST LOOTED IT!! HOW WOULD YOU LIKE THAT, LAPDOG OF SATAN!? HAHAHAHA!!
The Ghost of Marco Polo makes a rude gesture at the startled dragon before flying off southward toward Mount Vesuvius to make good on his threat!
In Draconic: NOOOOOO!!! MY HOARD!! MIIIIINE!!!
The great fire dragon immediately abandons his rampage over Venice and rockets back toward Mount Vesuvius, racing the Ghost of Marco Polo to its lair...
Venice’s old hero has saved her from further destruction!
Watching the dragon’s rampage from a window in a tower of the Palazzo Ducale, where he has been a guest commissioned to design a new portal for the doge’s palace, renowned architect Bartolomeo Bon gasps in shock and opens his wide eyes even wider when a ghostly figure—that of Marco Polo—appears floating before the dragon’s face and begins shouting something the architect can’t quite make out at this distance... A few seconds later, both ghost and dragon race off to the south, away from the City of Bridges!
Marco Polo returns to save us! He leads the dragon away! I must go at once and tell the Council this wonderful news!
Dashing from the tower window, Bon races down a spiral stair to the audience chamber where the Council of Ten are frantically debating how best to save their beloved Venice from the wrath of Wormwood...
Once the news of Venice’s burning circulated around the group at the Cardinal’s abode, Arc dives into his studies on dragons and their abilities with renewed vigor.
Must we face the dragon so soon? I fear we are ill-prepared... this may be a chance to prove my worth, but should we succeed, the attention could bring the wrath of the authorities to bear. Still... a dragon...
Should anyone see him during his forays into dragon lore, he appears intense and focused, a far cry from his nervous, trembling self down in the Catacombs. During a brief pause in his studies, he says aloud, “Monsieur de Berry, I will not forget the oath I swore to you. I hope to return to France with a trusted priest of God once our work here in Italy is concluded. Then I shall make good on my word.”
Once the news of Venice’s burning circulated around the group at the Cardinal’s abode, Arc dives into his studies on dragons and their abilities with renewed vigor.
Must we face the dragon so soon? I fear we are ill-prepared... this may be a chance to prove my worth, but should we succeed, the attention could bring the wrath of the authorities to bear. Still... a dragon...
Should anyone see him during his forays into dragon lore, he appears intense and focused, a far cry from his nervous, trembling self down in the Catacombs. During a brief pause in his studies, he says aloud, “Monsieur de Berry, I will not forget the oath I swore to you. I hope to return to France with a trusted priest of God once our work here in Italy is concluded. Then I shall make good on my word.”
In sepulchral French: I believe you will, Monsieur le Rouge... and should you fail to keep your word once your quest in the Catacombs is completed... you and I both know very well that you will never sleep soundly through the night again, non? Hahahaha!!
The pale, gaunt shade of Du Berry grins a ghastly grin at the magus, and a pale, albino frog wiggles out of his mouth and leaps onto the bestiary page Arc is reading, vanishing as it plops onto an illustration of a red dragon in flight... Du Berry fades away as well...
Renowned hill dwarf goldsmith, blacksmith, and publisher Johannes Gutenberg, currently a guest of the Doge of Venice, sits in attendance of the emergency convention of the Council of Ten, listening to the council members loudly arguing over how best to drive off the dragon. His thoughts turn to how the news of the dragon’s rampage must be quickly and widely disseminated throughout Europe...
If only there were some more efficient means of printing than copying everything by hand... Perhaps I could devise some kind of...moveable type...a printing press to make multiple copies of the same manuscript without need of hand scribing...
January 6th, one minute to midnight, in the Crystal Cave beneath Stonehenge:
The secret arcane Order of the Hidden Heptagon, made up of seven powerful time-traveling archmages, convenes to discuss matters unknown to most mortals. The Hidden Heptagon consists of:
Merlin of Wales, archmage supreme, who mentored King Arthur and instructed the Witch-Queen Morganna the Fey;
Nicolas Flamel, Parisian alchemist unparalleled, keeper of the Philosopher’s Stone;
Nikolai Tesla, inventor extraordinaire, wizard from the future and from the New World;
Aleister Crowley, founder of the future Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, about whom future bard and rockstar Ozzy Osborne would write his song Mister Crowley;
Morganna Le Fey, Queen of Witches and Queen of Avalon;
Doktor Johann Faust, conjurer and diabolist, who would one day bind Mephistopheles himself to service;
And Albertus Magnus, alchemist and inventor of magical clockworks.
These seven mighty magic users have gathered with the help of an invention Tesla helped the wizard H G Wells craft—the Time Machine—to discuss matters of dire significance about to transpire in this dimension of the Time Stream...
In Draconic: Welcome back again to the Crystal Cave, friends... It’s been some time...or has it? The cambion archmage looks sideways at Morganna Le Fey... I still have some trouble with my memory, thanks to your shenanigans, My Queen...
In Draconic: Oh, Merlin! I have already apologized many times now for that old trickery... Besides, it was for your own good... You were growing far too powerful, and far too haughty with your full cognitive capacity intact... You would soon attract unwanted attention from the Old Ones, and we don’t want that, do we?
Nicolas Flamel arches his brows and grins wryly at Merlin and then Morganna.
In Draconic: Merlin is more forgiving than I would be if you tried to place such a hex of amnesia on me, Queen of the Blessed Isle of Apples!
Tesla fixes Morganna with a cold, steely gaze.
In Draconic: Your reputation for betrayal and fairy tricks are precisely the reason the Death Ray I am crafting will be as lethal to fey demigoddesses as it will be to mortals...
The venerable Master Albertus Magnus gasps and scowls at Tesla.
In Draconic: But Mister Tesla! I thought you and I had discussed the dire danger of crafting your Death Ray! Mankind is not ready for negative energy weapons in your Tributary of the River of Time! I thought you agreed to destroy your plans for the Death Ray for the good of mankind!
Tesla replies in Draconic to Albertus Magnus: And so I did destroy the plans, Master Albertus, so that they could never fall into evil hands... But this does not mean I have forgotten how to build it...or that I will never build one for myself...to be used strictly in self-defense, of course! After all, think how mankind would benefit from my Death Ray now, if it were completed? Mankind’s dragon problem in this Tributary of the River would be easily solved, would it not?
In Draconic, to Tesla: Wait—You are building a Death Ray?...Specially designed to KILL ME!?
In Draconic: *Sigh!* Please, everybody, can we get down to the business we have crossed over Time Tributaries for already and stop this stupid bickering!?
In Draconic: An excellent proposal, Herr Doktor! The good Mister Wells was kind enough to lend Mister Tesla and I his marvelous Time Machine so that our fellowship might convene here at this particular Time Tributary...yet I see no reason for us to abuse this favor by wasting time quibbling... Tell us, Merlin... You are wisest among us, unless Her Fey Majesty is... How can we assist in forestalling the Great Apocalypse that seems to occur around this time in most of the myriad alternate Rivers of Time?