Moonday, 1 Rova 4707 (continued)
Thursday, 26 January 2012
He was barely responsive, and I did not blame him. He had lost his companion, and been witness to unspeakable carnage. We carried him, as well as Kiruth and Nil, to the Cathedral to be healed. While Father Zantus tended to them, the man regained his composure. He thanked us, and asked us to visit him at the Rusty Dragon before he left town so he could thank us properly. I said we would, not really thinking all that much of it, and he took his leave. Ulrioc and I drifted over to Mayor Deverin while Amarantha and Zegomda stuck by Nil and Kiruth. I relayed to her my suspicions that there were many tribes of goblins involved in the raid, while Ulrioc pledged to ask for a battalion of Lastwall knights to defend Sandpoint. Before the Mayor could say anything I spoke out against such madness. Such a request would have to be approved by Magnimar, and if it was not and Lastwall sent troops anyway, we could have a war on our hands. Whatever help we were to get was likely to lie closer to home. The Mayor did not know where Shalelu was when I asked, but agreed she would know, and be able to do most, about the goblins when she arrived.
Ulrioc was not content to wait, and wanted to find her, or to scout the goblin camps himself. He resolved to do so the next morning even though no one present could point him to their locations. Amarantha called this suicidal, and the Mayor and I agreed. Our task now was to help the people rebuild. As such, while they returned to the Mermaid’s Tail to bicker about leadership and direction, and to collect their gear, I helped gather the goblin bodies in the square into a pyre. I kept a few of the more conspicuous fetishes to show Shalelu when she returned. Maybe she could identify their origin.
After the cleanup was done, I made my way to the Rusty Dragon. I intended to speak with the man we’d rescued, but he wasn’t there. The adventurers, however, were! It seemed that the Mermaid’s Tail had burned some time after Ulrioc and Zegomda left it. Fortunately, no one had been hurt, the fire had not spread, and they’d been able to recover their gear. But they now needed a place to stay, and had chosen the Rusty Dragon. They made a whole show of haggling down the price, choosing a group room, and letting Zegomda sleep outside to cut down on costs. Ameiko played along, accusing them of wanting to run out on the bill, but taking them anyway. I suppose it was funnier in the moment. We said our goodbyes, and that we’d meet up in the morning. I could tell the others had not been able to talk Ulrioc out of trying to find goblin villages.
Moonday, 1 Rova 4707 (continued)
Thursday, 19 January 2012
I don’t remember the rest of the fight. The next thing I do remember, Cathedral Square was littered with goblin bodies and a few wounded townsfolk. Orrik from the Mermaid’s Tail was there, unconscious. I must have kept casting after the fire spell, as my body was girded in clear but solid panes and at least one goblin bore the telltale bruise of a force missile. Most, though, had fallen by arrow and blade. Nil was at a loss as to where the goblins had come from, and demanded an explanation. No one was on hand to satiate his curiosity, no one with any expertise anyway. It was fairly clear from the markings and fetishes the goblins bore that they belonged to many tribes rather than one. Before I could say anything about it, Nil and Ulrioc started arguing about what we should do next. There were people screaming away south, but people were hurt all around us.
Nil wanted to help the people who could still scream, but the way he defended his position set me off. He said he wanted to go “goblin hunting.” With the fiery death of the goblins and the deaths of the bandits the day before in my mind, I snapped at him. It seemed to me that he just wanted to kill goblins, and not just goblins, and would jump on any excuse, including people’s hurt and misery, to do so. Ulrioc went even farther; he wanted to seek out the goblins in their homes. It was only then that I remembered to tell the others that there were goblins from many tribes attacking the town. We could not sack their village even if people here did not need help and even if it was the right thing to do; there was no one village to target.
Eventually the screaming from the south became too loud to ignore in favor of vengeance-schemes, and thick, black smoke began to rise from the same place. We did finally decide to go, but were stalled once again by Ulrioc. He wanted to go to the Mermaid’s Tail first to don better armor than the dress uniform he’d worn to the festival. That man’s heart is in the right place, but he’s stubborn and self-centered to a fault. If I’d kept my head during the fight, I’d have been able to gird him in the magical armor I wore, but that was no longer an option, and I kept it to myself. Instead, I suggested that he get his armor by himself and let us deal with the fire. Nil, exasperated, tore off his own mail and gave it to Ulrioc so as not to waste any more time. He declared he’d fight half-naked if it meant he could actually fight. Amarantha blushed and hid his face at the sight of Nil’s body, giggling like a much younger man the whole way to the fire.
The fire turned out not to be set in a building, but in a cart full of straw and muckings-out. The goblins were trying to shove it into a building, aided by a goblin chanting and rhythmically thumping her chest, when we arrived. Another goblin was running down the street, pelting a fleeing woman with stones. I ran after him and pelted him with a force missile while the others went to stop the cart. He didn’t like being pelted, and turned to face me. I had to blast him again to stop him hitting me with his hatchet and added another soul to weigh against my own. The bolt did not slap against his skin either. It pierced his eye, which collapsed into a gooey mess inside his head. Fortunately, the others had managed to beat the goblins off the cart in the meantime, and did not ask me to kill again.
Of course when the adventurers had beaten all the goblins into the dirt the old argument started up again. Ulrioc wasn’t happy with Nil’s gear, and wanted his own. As he finished tearing the borrowed armor off, we heard another hound bay away north. There wasn’t any point in Ulrioc’s donning the armor again, so we split up. Ulrioc and Zegomda would retrieve Ulrioc’s gear from the Mermaid’s Tail and make sure the inn was safe in Orrik’s absence, while the rest of us would follow the dog. Such calls had always meant trouble this day.
For some reason the elite of the goblin force, two goblins riding huge, mangy, rat-like but dog-sized animals, had decided to spend their time tormenting what looked like a very well-bred hunting hound. A crowd of other goblins had gathered around and were jeering at the hound as their leaders baited it. The hound’s owner, a well-dressed man with brown hair and dark countenance cowered behind his animal, which until we arrived had been holding its own against its attackers. The sight of Kiruth, Nil and Amarantha, it seemed, or possibly just their drawn weapons, spurred them to action. One speared the dog right through while the rest of the goblins turned to face us. I set off a bright light in the middle of their group, burning their eyes so they wouldn’t be able to hit the adventurers, or the dog’s owner, as easily. Kiruth moved to help the man, while Nil and Amarantha faced the goblins head on.
The goblins managed to get between us and Kiruth, and to evade Amarantha’s arrows. In doing so, however, one of the riders had navigated his mount into range of my aurora. The mount managed to avert its gaze, but the rider was not so lucky. He collapsed to the ground, clutching his eyes before falling into unconsciousness. The other rider speared me in the side for my efforts, and I would have fallen if Amarantha had not caught me, propped me back up, and let Desna’s healing restore my body. He did not just close my wound. My heart beat faster, my eyes saw sharper, and my muscles felt stronger, like a man half my age. I must confess I lost my head to the euphoria. Looking back, I understand the adventurers a little better. I had never needed magical healing until then; in their life, they must live off it. But like I say, I acted without judgment in that fight from there on out.
The goblin who stuck me took a force missile to the head, then an arrow from Amarantha, then another missile. The goblin footsoldiers overwhelmed Kiruth, and Nil slew many in retalitation. Another missile was enough to finally down the rider. It troubles me that in the moment, high off the magic and concerned for Kiruth, I did not regret it. Nil was the next to go down, taking many goblins with him, but not enough for Amarantha to feel safe moving up to heal him. He killed one of the goblins’ mounts instead, firing an arrow straight down its throat. For the first time in many years I had used all my force missiles, and there were still three goblins after us, plus the commander, now regaining consciousness.
Ulrioc finally clanked onto the scene at this point, followed by Zegomda who was doubled over thanks to a stomach cramp. He sat out the rest of the fight, while Ulrioc moved to engage the commander in single combat. I wildly fired off a few rays of cold before it finally hit me what I was doing. I fell on my knees in the middle of the battlefield, the blood from a goblin in front of me soaking into my robe. The man on whose account we were doing this slaughter was nowhere to be seen. He had slunk behind a nearby house under Kiruth’s cover. It took me several seconds to find them, and even longer for the goblins to stop screaming.
Moonday, 1 Rova 4707
Thursday, 12 January 2012 (continued)
I slept almost through the night. Usually I fall asleep after the working day, so I can wake early and head out to Old Light hours before sunrise. Yesterday’s fight with the bandits, making an enemy of Keri, needing to study and scribe Ilsoari’s scroll and then needing to recount all of that in my daybook had me up past sunset, and it was nearly sunrise by the time I woke. I was late, having to prepare my spells for the festival made me later, and it was the festival day so I did not truly expect to find him. Nevertheless, I made my way to the Old Light to see if Brodert was there. He was not, and by the time I got there it was already too light to see anything but bright Castrovel setting in the west.
There was nothing to be gained by staying long. Sarenre’s path through the sky is well charted, and I had no desire to burn my eyes staring at her disc. The cathedral square was full when I got there, despite the hour. The adventurers from the day before were standing at the back of the crowd, so I joined them. Ulrioc and Kiruth found nothing better to say about the Mermaid’s Tail than backhanded compliments. If they had accepted my hospitality, or shelled out a few more gold for Ameiko’s at the Rusty Dragon, they would not have so much to complain about, but I suppose familiarity trumped cheapness or comfort in this case. We did not have to stand there long. As Sarenre’s disc surmounted the cathedral roof, the opening speeches began.
Mayor Deverin’s speech was fairly confused. She began by extolling unity in purpose and action, praising the people of Sandpoint for hanging together until now. But then she jokingly reprimanded Larz Rovanky for the long hours he sets his workers, seeming shocked that they and he made it to the Festival at all. I hope Kaijitsu was listening. Sheriff Hemlock was more focused. He reminded everyone that the Cathedral was as much a memorial as a monument, and asked for our silence. Of course we gave it, the adventurers included. I’m not sure why Drokkus was slated to speak, though he certainly helped lighten the mood. He thanked everyone for their contributions, mentioning some, though not Ulrioc, by name. He didn’t seem fazed by that, but found Drokkus’ promotion of his theater offensive. Father Zantus spoke no more than two sentences, enough to open the celebration.
Breakfast was cider and fried dough filled with blackberry jam courtesy of Jesk Berrini. I really ought to head over to his cabaret more often. He’s got some good ideas, and a way of getting people to think about them I could never manage. He, Kiruth and I talked a little bit about politics in Magnimar. I was surprised to hear Kiruth call openly for Grobaras’ overthrow. The Lord Mayor serves for life, and Kiruth talked about the people throwing him out. I’ve never been brave enough to make such statements publically. Jesk’s food wasn’t bad either. Zegomda liked it so much that he barely moved from Jesk’s stall all morning. The other adventurers milled around, spending the money they’d taken from the bandits yesterday. I sat down across the square from the church, listening to music and passing the time making little light shows and doing coin tricks for the children.
Around midday, Father Zantus and his acolytes wheeled out the cart for the religious part of the festival. Amarantha must have appreciated the story of Desna’s wounded avatar and the helpful child she thanked by turning into a butterfly. The tale was far from new to me, but the release of the butterflies from the cart is always different from every other that has come before. They stayed fairly close to the ground this year, letting children try to catch them for a while before dispersing. Lunch was free. All the inns and taverns had put out specialty dishes for people to sample. I understand there was to be a prize for the most popular dish. I was in the mood for fish, and Quinn’s chowder and Ameiko’s salmon fit the bill nicely. I didn’t get to enjoy it for long, because that’s when everything went wrong.
Under the buffet, a hound bayed, burbled, and fell silent. From where the noise had come, a goblin, a short, rusty sword in his hand jumped onto the table and into the middle of the tray of salmon. Fish and sauce scattered everywhere, and people followed. The adventurers kept their heads, and drew weapons. I heard Ulrioc trying to direct people into the Cathedral. I didn’t run, but only because I was trying to soothe Gerrit, who had taken refuge in my hood. Somehow, I found myself next to the adventurers, who had formed a knot in the center of the square. There were goblins all around now, worming their way out from under carts and stalls and jumping down off rooftops. Nil especially was looking forward to the coming battle. I don’t think I’ll ever understand him. I wanted to spare those who were only destroying property, to focus on the killers. Two goblins rushed me and I let loose Ilsoari’s fire spell to drive them off. Nothing in the scroll prepared me for the effect. Somehow it was more than twice as powerful as the scroll had suggested it would be there are mechanical reasons for this. Having unleashed the magic I could only watch in horror as the fire I had made seared the goblins’ flesh from their bones.
Sunday, 30 Arodus 4707 (continued)
Thursday, 12 January 2012
We did not remain alone on the street for long. Tearing flesh, screams, and threatening shouts could apparently be heard across town, because two people came to investigate from two different directions. My robes were covered in fine splatters of blood and dirt, Nil’s hands and Ulrioc’s were covered in the stuff, Zegomda was bleeding out on the street, and we were surrounded by corpses. I almost ran when I heard footsteps, but there wasn’t time to duck back into the Mermaid’s Tail and the strangers might need someone to vouch for them if it came to that. My word might count for less than Madame Mvashti’s or Mayor Deverin’s, but it would be better than nothing.
It turned out that neither person drawn by the din was from Sandpoint and, even more oddly, neither chose to pass comment on the abattoir the adventurers had made of the street. To one, a healer and Magnimaran noble named Kiruth, it represented a spot of excitement in provincial Sandpoint. Seeing Zegomda in distress, his first thought was to remove the daggers from his chest and to ease his pain. Our other visitor was more goal-oriented than lackadaisical Kiruth. She named herself Kira, a knight of Iomedae. She was known to Ulrioc, who named her his superior if my understanding of their protocols and sword architecture is correct. Despite their difference in rank, however, he refused to accede to her request—that his gift of gold be turned over to her. His and Amarantha’s probing revealed that she did not intend to turn it over to the Cathedral at all, not wanting to aid the hurts of “heathens”.
The insults only escalated from there. Amarantha named Kira a harlot, and she did the same to Desna. I may not be her most faithful follower, or a believer in the myths, but no one could spend the time stargazing that I have and not appreciate her bailiwick. My indignation on her behalf paled in comparison to Amarantha’s. He has some position in her church from what I gather, though his attitude is little like Ezakien’s or the priests I met in Sandpoint. Regardless, I left her defense in his capable hands. Instead, my intervention focused on Ezakien and the good works he did for the people here, works that his acolytes have done their best to continue. What right had this stranger to slander my family? She seemed to have no answer to this, or perhaps her focus was elsewhere when I asked. Regardless, the conversation, such as it was, ended shortly thereafter, and we finally were able to make it to the Cathedral. Zegomda carried the bound thug.
Thankfully, that lost soul did not have to remain with us long. Father Zantus and Sheriff Hemlock stood outside the Cathedral. From their glances and gestures it looked like they were discussing the preparations for tomorrow’s Festival. A shouted greeting from across Cathedral Square interrupted their deliberations, and by the time we approached their attention was all on us. I told Sheriff Hemlock how the thugs had attacked us, that three bodies needed burial and that one, armored much like our captive, was still at large. He pledged that our captive would spend a long time in jail. I volunteered to give my statement again at trial. I hope Hemlock understood that I expect there to be one.
Amarantha, meanwhile, had been grunting and gesticulating to Ulrioc, forming some sort of plan, and as I wrapped up with Hemlock, Ulrioc strode forward to present his gift. He insisted on doing so in front of both men, and inside the Cathedral, but Hemlock at least seemed to know what was up. He gave Amarantha permission to question the thug while he was gone. Amarantha seemed satisfied with this arrangement, and it became clear that what he wanted was not to question without the Sheriff’s knowledge, but without his supervision. That much was evident from his methods. The first thing he did was to enspell the thug—who named himself Bellan—ensuring that he would suffer if he lied or refused to answer questions. Fortunately, he was talkative, if evasive, and the spell wore off shortly after its application. Amarantha did learn that Kira had hired Bellan and his friends to waylay Ulrioc. They had resorted to violence rather then crude threats when they saw him in numerous and—apart from me—martial company. Finally, that she had apparently chosen to show herself only when she could not hide behind her goons.
Nobody mentioned this to Hemlock when he came out. I know not anyone else’s reasons, but accusing a paladin of Iomedae on the strength of such a witness, particularly since his accusation had been obtained under duress, did not seem terribly bright to me. The gift has been delivered, and if Zantus remains true to his character, and to Ezakien’s memory, it will get to the people in due course and in a form befitting their needs. If Kira has other business with Ulrioc, it is up to them to settle it. I will settle for hoping it doesn’t come up, or that they are far from innocents if it does. We did not stay long. The sun began to dip in the sky, and quaking bellies called each of us to table. I offered up my hospitality, but the adventurers were comfortable at the Mermaid’s Tail. Before we parted, Nil pushed some gold into my hands. I have a strong suspicion it came from the thugs, and from some innocents to them. I spent the rest of the day at home, scribing Ilsoari’s scroll into my spellbook after lunch. Its fire should compliment my aurora and other light spells for tomorrow’s fireworks display.
Sunday, 30 Arodus 4707
Thursday 5 January 2012
Every now and again I forget that Kaijitu’s a boss like any other, but he always manages to find some way to remind me. Even in bustling Magnimar they know Sunday’s a day of rest, and one is reminded of it every time one looks out the window. The great masses are at market, at song and drink in the taverns, or doing whatever it is they want to do and can afford. Some, wonder of wonders, even give their thanks to the gods. Then again, in Magnimar there are great masses, and the bosses probably couldn’t keep them from their day of rest if they tried.
It’s different here in Sandpoint. Even the big factories, the Kaijitsu Glassworks and the Scarnetti Sawmill, employ only a few dozen people each, and everybody knows everybody else. Paternalism is a real force here, and many of my colleagues feel privileged or taken care of. I myself know how lucky I am to be polishing and grind lenses and mirrors, to be doing something for which I was trained and at which I’m good, instead of begging on the street. But dialectically coupled to paternalism is the fact that Kaijitsu can demand “favors” from the workers and they won’t be recognized as concessions until they’re given up.
I’m sad to say that almost none of my colleagues balked at the suggestion that we exchange our day of rest today for a day off for the Festival. It looks like an even trade, a day for a day, but we should have gotten the day off for the Festival without having to make an exchange. Kaijitsu ought to know better. He lost his wife to the Late Unpleasantness from what I understand. But that’s a boss for you. Human feeling takes second place to having product to sell.
Some of us did manage to sneak out at lunchtime, but we were too few to make an impact on our fellows. Neither did we want to make the upcoming festival a political bone of contention. Ezakien and Nualia wouldn’t have wanted their memory used that way. We ended up going our separate ways. I didn’t want to be found, so I stayed away from home, the Old Light, the Curious Goblin, or any of my usual haunts. Instead, I wandered down to the docks. I wanted a quiet place to study Ilsoari’s scroll, and finally scribe it into my spellbook. The fishing boats would be out til the evening, so the sailors’ watering holes would be empty. Or so I thought.
It turned out The Mermaid’s Tail had attracted a number of motley, foreign adventurers. Such posturing I have not seen since that imbecile Tressler gave his presentation on the orbits of the major bodies of the Diaspora. One, a soldier of Iomedae named Ulrioc, at least had business here. He meant to deliver a gift to the new Cathedral, and needed directions. I promised to guide him, but made the mistake of enlightening him as to why we were dedicating a new Cathedral. He took the news almost personally, and began to round up the other adventurers. They seemed averse to letting themselves be shepherded, and this Ulroic did take personally. I’m ashamed that my embarrassment that he was being so militant in part on my account kept me from intervening before the guards had to be called. It did not come to blows, but plainly Orrik no longer wanted us in his tavern.
That was not the end of the trouble Ulroic brought down upon us. His gift was valuable—at least some of it consisted of gold ingots—and he’d not managed to keep it a secret. As we left the bar we were accosted by five thugs I’d never seen before, demanding the package. I do not think they were Sczarni, at least not Jubrayl’s lot, because they seemed to think of us as a group, and to think I was affiliated with it when I have lived here in Sandpoint for five years. They were, however, trained. They almost brought down one of the adventurers, a wise and jovial orc Zegomda who I later learned could talk to animals. The adventurers knew their business, and killed three. Much of the time earmarked for this session was taken up with technical difficulties, so we did not manage to progress to the Swallowtail Festival. The GM invented the bandit encounter on the fly so we could include a combat before the session ended. We'll see where it leads.
Two, a swordsman Nil and an archer whose name I believe was Amarantha, were especially bloodthirsty, chasing two down after they started to run. They frighten me. To take life so casually, with no larger object in mind, bespeaks a burning wrath matched only by the avarice of thugs who would steal from a grieving community. I shudder to think of the fate to which they will subject the one I managed to incapacitate with colored light, and who is now our captive. I hope I do not have to report them, as well as the thug, to Sherriff Hemlock! I’d better learn their names in case I do though.
Hello ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to my first campaign journal. Not my first game, mind you, but journaling a PbP is rather pointless and my notes for the last FtF campaign I wanted to journal blossomed into a booklength form before I could get a handle on it. This is a maptool campaign, which turned out to faciliate just the right mix of accurate and to-the-point record-keeping that I could begin keeping a journal with some confidence in the product. We've played one session so far, this Thursday, and expect to have a session each Thursday until the Adventure Path is concluded.
As this is a RotRL campaign journal, it will contain spoilers for that Adventure Path. Then again, if my journal is the first thing on these Internets that spoils RotRL for you, please consider me immeasurably flattered.
Before we begin I'd just like to pay homage to Denek/Moonbeam, whose journals, in part, opened me up to the depth of the Adventure Paths and whose posting format I will be shamelessly ripping off.
And now without further ado, I present to you the protagonists of our little, or perhaps not-so-little, tale:
Amarantha Montenegro 23-year-old male varisian inquisitor, Chaotic Neutral
Amarantha's player joined on short notice, and I haven't got a backstory for him yet.
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Nil Silverwind male half-elf magus, Chaotic Good
I haven't got a backstory for Nil either, and don't have as good an excuse. I'll add it when I get it.
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Antonie Tobyn 49-year-old male chelaxian evoker, Chaotic Good
Ezakien left his younger brother behind in Magnimar when he left to minister to new-founded Sandpoint. News of his death brought Antonie from his star-mapping and researches into light at the Stone of the Seers to Sandpoint, and a land deal gone sour and a vindictive colleague made him stay.
Zegomda gro-Tulga 17-year-old male orc druid, Neutral Good
Zegomda's people preyed long upon the Shoanti, until a Shoanti druid struck back. The example of her strength, which all but destroyed his tribe, and the uncaring mountain which nevertheless sheltered him, inspired his calling to nature. He has amends to make, and may as well do so in Sandpoint.
Ulrioc 28-year-old male chelaxian paladin, Lawful Good
Ulrioc turned to Iomedae's faithful for salvation, first from a troubled home life and then from destitution when he could no longer call his house home. His time as an acolyte is at an end, and his first mission, a goodwill gift from Iomedae's flock to the new Cathedral, brought him to Sandpoint.
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