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Secrets of Roderic's Cove (1 of 6)
The Return of the Runelords Adventure Path begins here, in the pine-shaded port town of Roderic's Cove. Grudges and gossip are ever present in small town life, and Roderic's Cove is no different. The town has seen its share of troubles in the past with Riddleport pirates and a haunting by the town's founder, and now those tensions are bubbling up again. After a deadly brawl breaks out, the heroes must piece together what troubles the small town. Along the way, they stumble upon something larger than faction squabbles among the townsfolk—an ancient smoldering threat has flared to life. The powerful ancient wizards who once ruled this land are returning!
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LOL.
Dot is a dot
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Clearly, you found the magic words.
Dot.
Varisia hosts dozens of settlements, most of which are small villages and towns, often found near plentiful sources of fresh water. Many more settlements similar to these have grown up and then vanished over the years, sometimes due to poor planning or difficult conditions, other times to the predations of the monsters that inhabit Varisia’s woods and vales. Over the last century, as people from across the Inner Sea have begun to explore the frontier of Varisia, settlements have become more plentiful. Encouraged by bountiful lands and the chance to have a place of their own, settlers have sought to tame the woods and rivers for their own benefit and profit. Though the indigenous Varisians are traveling people, this does not mean they are fully content with foreign settlers claiming the lands that they have held as their own since the times of Thassilon.
—Excerpt from a travelogue of Varisia
Roderic's Cove
Nestled in the northeastern corner of the Varisian Gulf at the mouth of the Chavali River, the small community of Roderic’s Cove was built atop a traditional Varisian gathering site. Constant struggles keep the small and insular town from developing into something more, and gossip and superstition both bolster and restrict the community. As often as the town has resisted corrupt rule, its people have exhibited voluntary ignorance when choosing what to accept due to family or tradition, resulting in a tightly knit community of people resistant to outside influence.
Roughly 80 years ago, in 4640, the privateer Sir Roderic led a group of emigrants from Magnimar to found the town of Roderic’s Cove. Arriving at the mouth of the Chavali River, the settlers discovered a fine natural harbor and a clearing around a circular stone foundation, a remnant of ancient times. Since then, the town has provided well for itself, but has never grown beyond its original size. Throughout its existence, Roderic’s Cove has struggled under Riddleport’s influence, and it has even come to provide an alternative port for those ship captains and merchants unwilling to do business with the notorious pirates and cutthroats of that city.
In the years after the town’s founding, Sir Roderic protected the town, fighting against the predations of Riddleport’s pirates. He sailed the Varisian Gulf, thwarting raiders, and these actions earned him Riddleport’s ire. And then, ten years after the founding of his namesake, Sir Roderic vanished and, per the numerous sightings of his ghost, most certainly died.
Despite this loss, the town of Roderic's Cove continued on. Sometimes under the influence of Riddleport, sometimes under its own direction. The smoke continues to rise from chimneys during the cold months. The town gossips continue to gossip. The docks continue to see ships put their goods ashore. Life goes on.
Oathday, 14th of Gozran, 4720 AR
All six of you sit in the Creekside Tavern & Inn, or simply Creekside, as it is known in town. It is market day outside the tavern and you can hear it beginning in earnest. Roderic’s Cove town square, just outside the door, is anything but, being located atop the remnants of an ancient circular stone foundation. The Cove’s settlers decided this would be a prosperous place to build their town, and they set up their tents and temporary structures around the stone’s circumference. It wasn’t long before the settlers all referred to the fledgling colony’s central meeting point as the Circle.
Most people in Roderic’s Cove grow their own food, but once a week, they all gather in the Circle. This weekly “Circle Market” allows households access to a more diverse range of food than what they’ve grown in their own gardens. Locals trade household goods, traveling merchants hawk their wares, and lucky shoppers can find unexpected bargains for sale. There are a few vendors from farms in the surrounding hinterlands who have come into the Circle to ply their wares. It is, by no means, a Cove-only affair.
Possum Coots, the pot-bellied, red-nosed old owner of a market-day pop-up drinking spot steps in to the Creekside’s doorway, shouting to all inside, ”Cups a Possum Punch, just a copper! Outside –“
He is immediately stopped by Garleena Knodston, one of the proprietors (along with her brother), of the Creekside, ”That’s right OUTSIDE. Outside, Possum. Sell your swill there. We’ll sell ours here. Git, ‘fore I get my club.”
Possum dodges Garleena and leaves the doorway.
”Hope Circle Market is quiet this week. Don’t need anymore bodies in the Boneyard,” says Garleena as she clears your cups from the table.
All of you have heard of the recent and unexpected outburst of violence that took place in the Circle late at night a few weeks ago. A violent clash between rival gangs left several men dead. Tensions have been high in town and rumors have been flying ever since. A dockhand sitting nearby can be heard saying it was ”provocateurs from Riddleport” who have infiltrated Roderic’s Cove and are trying to destabilize the economy, while his drinking partner says it’s the restless spirit of Sir Roderic himself influencing certain folks in town.
Whatever the cause for the violence, it hasn’t stopped the Cove’s weekly tradition of organizing the Circle Market.
There are blackberry pies, tarts, and flaky Magnimaran kwuh-sont bread from Blackberry’s Bakery. ”Get your Andoren duhmah-crusty here! Just like a Magnimaran kwuh-sont, but with blackberry jam!" says Blackberry, the bakery’s proprietor as market-goers walk by.
Malford Pelson has beef and pork sourced from outlying farms and ranches, as well as fish brought in by the steady stream of fishing boats from dockside. ”Getcher meats here! Fresh beef, delicious pork, fantastic Coast Cod!”
Jarb Brogan, the halfling proprietor of Brogan’s Apothecary, offers blended poultices, balms, and other remedies. In addition he’s the town barber. You can hear him sharpening his razor on a leather strap from where you stand inside the Creekside. “Top n Bottom, people. Best cut on the Lost Coast! 10% off! No better bargain!”
Perick Lonson, the local smith, cries out his wares, ”Cookware! Utensils! Pots! Pans! You KNOW you need a new one after your husband burnt the porridge last week, Ladia! The whole town could smell it burnin’!”
Perhaps it is time to stop struggling with conjugations in Ancient Thassilonian and step outside, get some sunshine and fresh air. Maybe find a bargain or two…
Kheiron looks in the direction Ayita indicates. "That it does," he agrees. He rubs the stubble on his leathery, wind-burned face. "But I haven't had a shave in more than a week, so I think I'll let Jarb sharpen his razor on me. Then maybe I'll be presentable enough to have a..."kwesson"... with a lady. And her bird."
He stands, tips his hat to the group and crosses the market to get a shave.
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Walf smiles at the speaking falcon, something that never ceases to amaze him. He stands, stretches, and reaches for the maul leaned against the wall of Creekside.
"I think I might try some of that Possum Punch this morning to get me going, then check to see if Perick is selling any of the cookware I tried to make last week. He said I was starting to get the hang of it, but he may have been humoring me. I can never tell."
With his maul over his shoulder, Walf follows Kheiron out of the tavern. He leisurely walks toward Coots' stand, enjoying the spring air and a rare day away from the forge.
When catches up to Coots, he pulls out a copper and hands it to him. "I would take a cup," he says. As he waits for the beverage, he awkwardly tries to make small-talk, still not used to the ways of village life in Varisia and the different ways the people speak, think, and act.
"I have a question," he says to the proprietor. "Why have the law enforcers not announced what caused the recent violence yet? In the Perfect City, the criers would have spread the official story days ago. Have they not yet determined what happened?" he asks.
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A halfling with a handsome face and winning smile sits close to the bar. He wears well-used studded leather armor and a purple jacket.
Curiously, he has set before him a copious amount of food, though he sits alone at his table. One plate is piled with pies, tarts, and bread. He has a gravy boat full of blackberry jam, and another plate full of beef and pork. An entire fish fills a long platter. Finally, three tankards of ale wash things down--two are empty. He is eating more quickly than he ought to, causing a bit of a scene. He is not overweight--there's no apparent reason he should be eating so much.
Though he seems happy to be eating so much, things abruptly change when the waitress drops a plate of flapjacks she had been bringing to his table. His face turns from content to angry in a flash, his eyes full of rage.
The halfling blanches as the waitress looks about to cry. He stands up, looking embarrassed.
"I'm SO sorry! I don't know what overcame me! That was uncalled for! Please forgive me!" he says, handing her a few silver.
"I'll be back to eating normal portions soon! This--this crazy hunger will pass, like it did last time. But--I do need another plate of flapjacks," he says, returning to his meal.
Kheiron looks in the direction Ayita indicates. "That it does," he agrees. He rubs the stubble on his leathery, wind-burned face. "But I haven't had a shave in more than a week, so I think I'll let Jarb sharpen his razor on me. Then maybe I'll be presentable enough to have a..."kwesson"... with a lady. And her bird."
He stands, tips his hat to the group and crosses the market to get a shave.
Jarb sees Kheiron approaching. Practiced at his craft, he sees the stubble, the determined walk, the look of 'don't act like you want a shave, act non-chalant' from far away.
He preps his chair, a special reclining invention that allows bigfolk to lean back at a level where the halfling, on a stool, can shave them properly.
"Welcome, oh stubbly newcomer! I've seen you around, but somebody else must have been shaving you, because, echhh, what a hatchet job they did on you!" says Jarb with a welcoming grin. He shakes the cotton cape out and gestures to his chair. "Have a seat, sir, before that stubble pokes somebody's eye out! What can I do with this, hmmm, perhaps a vandyke? Goatee? Mustache? A more wild 'wolverine' look? You'd even look good with a masterfully smoothed face, like a baby's bottom! Will it be a Top 'n Bottom today? 10% off! Don't skimp. You'll look good with a haircut AND a shave."
Though he seems happy to be eating so much, things abruptly change when the waitress drops a plate of flapjacks she had been bringing to his table. His face turns from content to angry in a flash, his eyes full of rage.
The halfling blanches as the waitress looks about to cry. He stands up, looking embarrassed.
"I'm SO sorry! I don't know what overcame me! That was uncalled for! Please forgive me!" he says, handing her a few silver.
Garleena pockets the silver, wipes a nascent tear from her eye and says, "Thank you, Roscoe. Thank you. I'm so sorry. So sorry. I'll get more flapjacks right away."
She turns, carrying the fallen flapjacks, looks back at her brother in the kitchen and smiles, her "tears" nowhere to be found. When she gets back to the kitchen, her brother, Thevin frowns at her. "Stop that. Poor Roscoe. You're taking advantage."
"It's the Weird Tax. He's been weird ever since he's come back into town. Jail must've infected him with something that makes him act queer. And besides, he screams one day, praises the next, and eats most of our food up and there's none left for the other customers. We need the silver. And he's got it to pay. For his weirdness," she says, crossing her arms as she defends herself to her brother. "Hmmph."
"Anyway. More flapjacks."
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"I think I might try some of that Possum Punch this morning to get me going, then check to see if Perick is selling any of the cookware I tried to make last week. He said I was starting to get the hang of it, but he may have been humoring me. I can never tell."
Hatfield laughs, and he (jokingly) makes a show of checking his medicine bag. "Afore ye go an' drink any possum punch, lemme make sure I have enough antacid..."
__________________________________________________"I have a question," he says to the proprietor. "Why have the law enforcers not announced what caused the recent violence yet? In the Perfect City, the criers would have spread the official story days ago. Have they not yet determined what happened?" he asks.
Hatfield shakes his head, but keeps his opinions to himself. "Too much drama, if ye ask me. I'd gladly see less business if'n it meant Covers stayed healthy."
__________________________________________________Ter, Ayita's falcon who speaks common (a feat) says, "fresh kwesson sound good!" Ayita looks up at the thought of blackberry pastries.
Hatfield tries to hide the blackberry croissant that he's already been feeding to Ter. "Let's keep it 'tween ye and me. OK, buddy?" he whispers to the bird.
__________________________________________________The halfling blanches as the waitress looks about to cry. He stands up, looking embarrassed.
"Roscoe, I've got some herbs ye might wanna try... Good for tha nerves. Know what I mean?"
__________________________________________________He stands, tips his hat to the group and crosses the market to get a shave.
"Nice feller," Hatfield thinks. "Looks like he might could make use o' some good sleepytime tea, though."
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Roscoe looks even more embarrassed as Gregory, the town herbalist, sees his outburst. The herbalist was only five years his senior, and Roscoe, like most of the town's residents, had utilized Gregory's services a handful of times.
"Hiya, Gregory," Roscoe manages, quickly going back to his massive feat.
"Ri'll try ranything you've rot," he says between mouthfuls. "Nerves rettin' me recently. An' ravenous hunger, roo, on occasion."
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"I think I might try some of that Possum Punch this morning to get me going, then check to see if Perick is selling any of the cookware I tried to make last week. He said I was starting to get the hang of it, but he may have been humoring me. I can never tell."Hatfield laughs, and he (jokingly) makes a show of checking his medicine bag. "Afore ye go an' drink any possum punch, lemme make sure I have enough antacid..."
_________________________________________________Ter, Ayita's falcon who speaks common (a feat) says, "fresh kwesson sound good!" Ayita looks up at the thought of blackberry pastries.Hatfield tries to hide the blackberry croissant that he's already been feeding to Ter. "Let's keep it 'tween ye and me. OK, buddy?" he whispers to the bird.
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Ayita is walking out the Inn's door and Ter can be heard saying, Pastry! No pastry for days! Please, pastry? Please???
However just as Ayita clears the doorway, a big purple blob falls from the falcon's butt.
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Before the group started to disperse, Walf asked, "Can one of you direct me to the ward official in charge of permits to imbibe alcoholic beverages during working hours? Today is my day off, and I do not have a permit for the punch I am about to consume. I do not wish to receive a citation for the infraction."
Before the group started to disperse, Walf asked, "Can one of you direct me to the ward official in charge of permits to imbibe alcoholic beverages during working hours? Today is my day off, and I do not have a permit for the punch I am about to consume. I do not wish to receive a citation for the infraction."
Garleena smiles when she hears Walfrenden ask for a ward official and a permit for the punch.
"Ain't no permit needed for stupid choices, Walfrenden," she says with a smile. "And you know perfectly well, from when you checked in with the 'authorities' when you first arrived in the Cove, that there's only one 'guard official' here: Julit. And she's already over there havin' a blackberry tart."
She points to the well built, middle-aged captain standing at Blackberry's cart. She looks over at the lot of you and wipes a bit of blue from the corner of her mouth and smiles, lifts her blackberry tart in greeting, and goes back to talking with Blackberry.
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Walf is, as always, dumbfounded by the concept of tarts. He understands they taste very good. However, they provide less energy than other foodstuffs
and are comparatively more expensive. Beyond trying one when he first arrived, as he has with most everything he encounters, he has not had another. "Why would anyone eat so many?" he asks himself, shaking his head.
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Reposted here from "Discussion" list per GM Derek's nice suggestion:
GM Derek
Ayita of the Hawk Clan wrote:
She has some small balls that she practices juggling with -- not knives yet! Part of her "act" involves Ter swooping in and stealing a juggling ball and refusing to give it back; they practice together a lot, behind the Inn in a fairly quiet place. Ter does not speak often with strangers, as a trained bird attracts less attention from potential thieves than a trained talking bird. Ter has begun speaking with our party, though, due to the good amount of blackberry pastry provided.
(Ayita's posting)
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That's a Day Job roll, if I've ever heard of one! Post in the Gameplay thread and ROLL Acrobatic or Sleight of Hand. Perhaps some Circle Market patrons will send their children over to tip you!
(GM's posting)
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She and Ter both love young ones...
Plus, even Harrow would blush at how much food this halfling is putting down.[/ooc]
The muscular but not particularly social half-elf Frantino stands and hefts his greatsword onto his back before heading out. "This is always a good time to stock up on fresh meats, maybe a smoked fish, to get through the week. Save at least one ale for me, Roscoe!" He shakes his head at the amount of food the small man is putting away, then heads out to negotiate with Malford.
She and Ter both love young ones...
[dice=Sleight of Hand]1d20 + 8
The juggling with Ter draws a small crowd of children, all squealing, "YAY! DO IT AGAIN! DO IT AGAIN!"[/B]
One of their mothers comes over and hands a copper to her child, who imemdiately turns and says, "Can it catch a copper in the air? Can it catch a copper in the air?"
After a short time, Ayita's juggling nets a small handful of coppers and even a silver from a generous woman who, by the looks of her, is a traveler on the Lost Coast Road. Perhaps going to Sandpoint or Magnimar beyond... from Riddleport. Or going TO Riddleport from Magnimar or Sandpoint.
From his vantage point in the barber's chair, Kheiron watches Ayita's show with interest and Roscoe's mood swings with some concern until the halfling barber covers his face with a hot towel and he can see no more.
Each of you may search for bargains at the market, if you wish.
Circle Market Bargain Hunting
[u]d20 Roll Result[/u]
1–6 A piece of adventuring gear, clothing, food or drink, or trade good of your choice (chosen from any in Pathfinder RPG Ultimate Equipment) at 10% its normal price.
7–12 An alchemical item of your choice (chosen from any in Ultimate Equipment) at 10% its normal price.
13–16 A weapon of your choice (chosen from any in Ultimate Equipment) at 10% its normal price.
17–19 A potion or scroll of your choice (chosen from any in Ultimate Equipment) at 10% its normal price.
20 A magic item of your choice (chosen from any in Ultimate Equipment) at 10% its normal price.
Kheiron is amazed to find a composite longbow for sale. He is even more amazed when he finds that the merchant is selling it because "it's broken" - no one is strong enough to pull it. But Kheiron is. He pays the merchant 50 gold coins for the bow.
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Given enough time, Roscoe eventually finishes his meal. He leaves a couple of silver on the table, but as he turns to leave he thinks better of it and puts the coins back in his pouch.
How can I still be hungry? A hunger that will not satiate and a thirst that will not quench!
Outside in the bizarre, he looks at the wares. Knowing he doesn't have all that much money, he takes a medallion from off of his neck. It hangs on a leather cord, a silver disc inscribed with a strange, seven-pointed star.
Seeing an alchemist hawking various items, Roscoe shows him the medallion and offers to trade for an everburning torch. The vendor eventually agrees, offering a ninety percent discount on the item.
Roscoe even leaves the exchange without getting angry.
See you tomorrow, wacky medallion. I wish I could quit ya.
After getting a selection of meats, Frantino casually looks through some leather goods to kill some time. While examining a quality pair of bracers, he notices a very cleverly hidden set of compartments that contain high quality lock-picking tools. When he buys them and leaves, the merchant is convinced that he just made a tidy profit from a country bumpkin.
However, they appear to only be in Ultimate Intrigue, not Ultimate Equipment. Are they OK? If not, he'll just be purchasing masterwork thieves' tools, normal cost 100 gp.[/ooc]
Those are fine.
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7–12 An alchemical item of your choice (chosen from any in Ultimate Equipment) at 10% its normal price.
"You have Bloodblock for only 2.5 GP? My thanks, friend. This will be of great help."
Knowing how little money he has after having spent the past few months in Roderick's Cove, Walf resists the lure of the bargains.
He continues to try to chat up Possum. "So what happened here? Was it just a big bar fight, a gang conflict, or some sort of vigilante action or mob justice?"
"Gangs, fer sure. Them six deadn's last week were members of the Horned Gang. That’s what you get for being uppity,” says Possum. "Odd though. The Horned Gang ain't particular violent. Old Badger and his brothers think some no good Riddleport guys ambushed the Horned Gang. Port-Guvnah Thort oughta confront Riddleport and demand them's names."
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"Gangs, fer sure. Them six deadn's last week were members of the Horned Gang. That’s what you get for being uppity,” says Possum. "Odd though. The Horned Gang ain't particular violent. Old Badger and his brothers think some no good Riddleport guys ambushed the Horned Gang. Port-Guvnah Thort oughta confront Riddleport and demand them's names."
Walf shakes his head at the thought of gang violence, something that is a sign of social upheaval when it happens in Axis, such as when a government is falling. He thinks of Julit and some Port-Governor being the law here and realizes that the deaths must be a sign of a law enforcement vacuum or an under-represented or oppressed political faction.
"So, we answer to Riddleport now? I suppose it was inevitable," he remarks, assuming that victory by the forces of Riddleport over those of Roderick's Cove must mean an expansion of Riddleport's jurisdiction.
From the comments at Creekside, he assumes Possum Punch is to be imbibed all at once, like a shot, and does so. "Thank you for the beverage," he says, before heading over to speak to Perick.
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Ayita sees some great bargains on potions, but sadly looks into her rather light stash of coins and sighs. She heads by Blackberry's table though... might Blackberry have some "potions" of blackberry brandy that Ayita can afford for coppers, on sale? She'd love to have some little bottles of that tasty stuff...
Ayita sees some great bargains on potions, but sadly looks into her rather light stash of coins and sighs. She heads by Blackberry's table though... might Blackberry have some "potions" of blackberry brandy that Ayita can afford for coppers, on sale? She'd love to have some little bottles of that tasty stuff...
"For you, after all of that lovely juggling with your hawk?" says Blackberry with a smile at Ayita. "Of course. Just don't tell Possum I'm competing with him." <wink>
As the afternoon winds down, a group of five men and women converge on Possum’s stand to drink punch and talk with each other.
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Overhearing the group, Walf passes 2 silver over to Possum. "Drinks for that lot are on me, and I would like another, please."
When Walf gets his second punch, he raises his glass to the group. If he catches their attention, he says "Absent friends" and drinks it down.
Walf suppresses a wince as he drinks. He would never normally have a second of this stuff, but he seems to remember a social norm to drinking to the dead. At least that was something they did in Qadira.
Frantino browses another shop, oblivious to what is going on while he internally muses again about how to gain entrance to the Cypher Lodge in Riddleport.