|
Your boots squash with fetid water as you plod through the
Puddles. A thick fog hangs in the air, seeming almost to caress
the flesh with an unnatural chill. As you stand outside the Soggy
Piper in a foot and a half of brackish brine, you try to recall what
was so damned important to demand your presence in the halfflooded
slum during Absalom’s rainy season. You remember
your meeting at the Lodge just a few hours earlier with your
Venture-Captain, Adril Hestram.
A bear of a man with only a few teeth remaining in his head,
he motioned you into the meeting hall with a casual wave of his
grizzled hand. The human captain outweighs most of Absalom’s
half-orcs, and though a layer of beefy blubber coats his frame,
those of you who have tangled with him in the Lodge sparring
ring know that beneath this thin veneer of fat lies nothing but
solid, steely sinew. Adril’s wild beard wags to the ponderous
shake of his massive head as he examines a scrap of ancient
parchment on the table before raising his eyes to greet your
gaze and speaking:
“Come in then, friends, and thank you for answering my
summons so swiftly. The society is in need. An old and quite
penniless historian, a bespectacled wag-beard by the name of
Yargos Gill has recently made a discovery in an old archive that
we have a great interest in obtaining: an ancient codebook, left
behind in the wake of one of Taldor’s many failed attempts at
invasion. This several-hundred-year-old text would prove an
excellent addition to our collection, and must be preserved.
“Yargos makes his home in ‘The Puddles,’ Absalom’s poorest
district, suffering from a well-known reputation as a haven for
lowlifes. Following an earthquake ten years ago, parts of the
Puddles now rest below sea level, resulting in frequent and untimely
flooding. Those who can afford not to live there—don’t.
“The district is the stomping ground of pimps, harlots,
addicts, knifers, and hoards of unseemly derelicts. It’s never
been a kind place, but recent reports reveal some new nameless
terror on her waterlogged streets. Several persons claim to
have seen cloaked, skeletal-like figures marching through an
unnatural fog. Ill tidings indeed. Tracking down Yargos is now
a priority—--lest some yellow-toothed thug cut him down, or
one of these strange wraiths carry him beyond the pale. Find
him, fellow Pathfinders, and find the codebook. Your exploits
will be recorded in the Chronicles if you succeed.”
The memory fades as a fresh deluge of cold seawater rounds
a bend in the lane and assaults your knees. After searching
for Yargos at his favorite eatery, the Soggy Piper, you learned
you just missed him. According to the Piper’s staff, a gang of
dangerous young tattooed toughs arrived ahead of you. They
grabbed Yargos and several of his friends from their dinner
table and dragged them to a nearby cliff at the edge of the
Puddle District. The watch was called, but they will arrive too
late, as they often do in the Puddles, when they bother to
venture there at all.
It is early evening, the first Wealday of the month of Desnus,
an old man is about to face some awful fate at the sea cliff
known as Torsen’s Maw, and you are no closer to finding the
codebook Adril sent you for.
|
And here I was thinking of getting a place in the Puddles that has an outlet to the sea Nightkit grumbled to her companions as she stood there in knee deep water, which had already invaded her boots. She was wearing formfitting black leather armour and sporting a rapier. Long black hair tumbled over her shoulders and her skin was tanned. No wonder property is so cheap. I knew it was bad, but I didn't think it was THAT bad. Maybe I should have worn my swimsuit
She hurries off towards the cliff
|
Next to the human rogue a red-haired female halfling in studded leather armor and a small longsword on her hip wades through the water. She is wearing a regular sized spell component pouch around her waist - and also an adorable little backpack on her back.
"What are you complaining about? The water goes nearly to my hips - and I cannot swim!"
Whenever the waterline is below the rim of her boots, Corba tries to use prestidigitation to dry herself - but it never lasts longer than a few seconds.
|
The halfling, who introduced himself earlier as Howirk Crookfeather, clings tight to his slick, outer cloak, which covers most of his well-tailored, attire marking his status as a successful merchant.
As his close are splashed with briny water, he mutters, "Hestram's always been a bit of a blighter. Surely, he could have sent someone else on this run.[/Smaller]"
He pulls the brim of his hat down lower in an effort to keep his face dry and heads towards the sea cliff known as Torsen's Maw.
"Best be picking up the pace," he calls out to his fellow Pathfinders. "Hate to go through all this effort and ruin a good suit and not have a codebook, or at least the old man, to show for it."
|
|
The Pathfinders move ahead through the narrow dirty damp streets, water splashing on their boots. Suddenly the streets open up and you spot a group of six obvious thugs with a group of captives. Your gut tells you you've found the gang that Adril Hestram spoke of. They've spotted you and draw weapons.
Combat - Pathfinders are up!
|
|
Wraith pulls her kamas from her hips and stalks forward, arms held out low and wide. "This is a night for real hunters. Leave now or be forced to realize the truth about the prey you actually are." The ninja takes care to ensure that she places herself between Howirk and any possible threat.
|
|
Wraith drops one of the thugs as they advance as the rest move up.
Two thugs move against the paladin.
And two attack the rogue
Nightkit gets an attack on Thug 4 as he tries to slip around.
He lands a blow with his sap.
And one thug attacks the sorcerer
"Take this little man!" he shouts.
Pathfinders are up!
|
|
Nightkit stabs at the thug, she and her flanking partner are attacking....
She also glances over to see what the ones off the map are doing.
Nightkit misses. She sees the captives sitting on the ground and notices chains connecting them.
With his head still ringing from the last blow he took, but thankful that his attacker is no longer up, Howrik draws his dagger and hurls it towards the nearest thug.
His small dagger flies past the thug and almost lands in the water.
One moves and tries to drag one of the captives off the dock. Some of the other captives move cause they're linked together.
One captive shouts "Help!"
The others try to knock out the paladin.
Kuikka drops unconscious.
The thugs turn towards and step towards her and cry.
"You're next!"
Pathfinders are up!
Kuikka unconscious nonlethal -5
|
|
Wraith quickly weighs her options. The orc is down, but the others have a numbers advantage. Surely these fools don't have a death warrant. Wraith silently sprints towards the slaver attempting to toss the victims to a watery death. With a sudden slash, the assassin tries to catch her blade on the man's ribs in order to either kill him or drag him away from the captured prisoners.
|
|
Two of the thugs drop from Nighkit and Wraiths attack. While Howirk's dart hits.
The lone thug tries to run.
Nightkit gets a strike as he moves.
And he drops.
Combat over
The paladin lies unconscious and Howirk is bruised.
One of the captives turns to Wraith.
"Pleas save us! We don't have a lot of money."
|
|
"I don't suppose any of you happen to be Yargos Gill?" Howirk asks the captives, even as he winces while rubbing fresh contusions. "Let me find that dagger I threw and I'll get to cutting those bindings."
An older man turns to the halfling.
"I am!"
Howirk sees that the captives are held by shackles.
|
|
Kuikka wakes up flat on her back with mist drooling into her face and looks up at Corba rather blearily. "Thank you," she mutters, obviously embarrassed at being rescued.
She climbs to her feet, dripping muck back into puddles with loud plops, before leaning down to pick up her axe. Sighing, she fishes a semi-dry but relatively clean cloth out of her bag to wipe off the mud.
That task done, Kuikka heads for the former prisoners. "Anyone good at dealing with these?" she asks, toeing the shackles. She hefts her weapon, ready to take out her frustrations on those inanimate objects, since the animate ones aren't playing anymore.
|
|
"Thanks!" says one of the captives. As you free them all. Suddenly,
Yargos chimes in. "Are you the Pathfinders? I found a copy of the ancient codebook detailing the signals for the Silent Tide, an old failed invasion mission from Taldor. Part of it was a group of fifth column infiltrators known as Black Echelon would weaken strategic defense points and destroy Absalom’s warning system from within. But now they're undead. Black Echelon finishes its final task, the invasion force will rise and the Silent Tide will roll across the city, bringing death to all of Absalom. But a crime lord named Nessian intervened and stole the codebook.
Nessian has a better plan for the codebook. He intends to manipulate the undead operatives and take advantage of the disruption their sabotage wreaks. I think Grandmaster Torch might help."
|
|
"You're very welcome, Kuikka!"
After making sure her comrades are ok, the bard casts detect magic and checks the thugs - for any useful mundane items, too.
When Yargos starts talking about the codebook, Corba thinks about anything she might have heard that might be related to the information.
"I agree, visiting Grandmaster Torch seems like a logical next step."
|
|
"I don't like the sound of undead armies anywhere near Absalom, so let's figure this out fast. This Torch sounds like a good next step." Turning to the former prisoners, she asks, politely, "Do you need assistance out of the Puddles or will you be safe on your own? We appear to have some business to attend to."