After almost two weeks at sea we finally arrived at a friendly port. Fort Blackwell was a tiny fort town sitting at the very tip of ‘The Hook’. Although not officially allied with Sasserine, Fort Blackwell has enjoyed friendly relations with Sasserine sense we regained our independence, and Sasserine, due to its close proximity, is a close trading partner. Still, before we were allowed into port, we had to endure an inspection and I had to sit through a quick interview. It was the standard affair:
“Any contraband aboard?”
“No.”
“Any exotic animals, plants, or unusual substances that our inspectors should be made aware of?”
“No.”
“Anything that you need to declare?”
“No.”
“Any known felons, murders, or criminals aboard as either passenger or crew?”
“No.”
“Point of origin?”
“Sasserine.”
“Destination?”
“Farshore, that’s on the southern tip of the Isle of Dread.”
“That’s a new one to me. How long will you be staying in Fort Blackwell?”
“One night.”
“Sign here.”
I signed his papers, his inspectors had a quick look around, and then we were waved into port. Blackwell was a small but well maintained town. I was more then happy to get off the ship and onto solid land again. It felt weird to not have the rolling ship to contend with after so many days at sea. I gave the crew shore leave (with strict instructions not to get into any trouble) but set curfew at 10. I didn’t want the crew out all night with us setting sail in the morning. There was some grumbling but most were happy with what they got despite the restrictions.
The crew had scarcely departed when Kiki grabbed my arm:
“Let’s go get drunk!” Kiki said. That caught me by surprise. I hadn’t known her as much of a drinker before.
“Aren’t you a little young to be drinking?” Kiki was about my age . . . which made her very young by halfling standards. She was probably more like twelve or fourteen by human standards.
“Aren’t you a little young to be against under age drinking?” she asked.
I had to think about that for a moment. “Point taken. Let’s get hammered.”
I of course had no intention of getting drunk, I had done that a couple of times my senior year of school, and I had no intentions of having to deal with a hang over on the rolling deck of a ship. Kiki, Buffy, Churtle, Orlani, James, and I (just the ladies – ha!) found a tavern away from the one the crew had descended upon. We quickly ordered food and drinks. I made a special point to try the local specialties. I was not disappointed. The meal consisted of lamb and lots of greens, carrot, and potato, and the drink was a local whiskey called ‘Green Man’. That tickled something in the back of my head . . . I had heard that name or title somewhere before . . . green something . . .
Desert was rhubarb pie . . . Churtle seemed particularly pleased with that.
“Oh goodie!” she chirped, “I love rhubarb pie!” She practically snatched the plate from the waitresses’ hand. She had nearly cleaned her plate before the waitress made her way around to me. “It’s good,” Churtle said as she began licking up the crumbs, “almost as good as my secret family recipe, but this doesn’t have any leaf.”
There was silence for a moment as we all tried some of the desert. I too enjoyed the sweet and tart pasty. Then Kiki’s head snapped up as though something suddenly struck her. She spun to face Churtle.
“The leaves are poisonous aren’t they?” She asked.
“What?” Churtle asked, putting down her spotless pie plate.
“Rhubarb leaves are poisonous!” Kiki said, “You can’t put them in a pie unless you want to kill everyone!”
“They are?” Churtle asked scratching her head, “No one ever told me that before. No one ever complained before though . . .”
“That’s because they were dead!” Kiki cried.
“Alright,” I said, “Let’s all calm down. The leaves might not be poisonous to kobolds. Churtle, remember that we’re humanoid, and we can’t eat everything that a reptile can. Let’s not use any family recipes or use any special ingredients until you’ve checked with one of us first ok?”
“Ok,” She chirped, “but people always say that my rhubarb pie is to die for. . .” She stopped and blinked, “Oh wait!”
“You stupid Kobold!” Kiki snapped, I think she may have had a bit too much to drink already. “You’re trying to kill us!”
“Kiki, calm down,” I said moving the bottle of whiskey away from her, “we’re all friends here. Churtle just gets a bit confused at times. It’s not her fault that we’re all humanoid.”
“Ya,” she slurred, “I guess you’re right, come here ya little scamp, you.” Kiki said holding her arms out for a hug.
“Kiki,” I said as she climbed down from her chair to get at Churtle, “How many glasses of alcohol did you have?”
She stopped for a moment and thought, she held up three fingers.
“Three fingers?” James asked, “That’s nothing, even for someone her size.”
“No,” Kiki burped, “three glasses,” she said spreading her fingers and pointing to the water glass beside her plate. Even if she had been watering the drinks down that was still a lot of alcohol for someone so small.
“Oh,” James said glancing at the glass, then to his own similar sized whisky glass in front of him, “that’s a bit different . . .”
“Wazda madda?” Kiki mumbled, “I drank a whole pint of beer back in Sasserine . . .” she suddenly burped, “oh, that ain’t sitten right.” She said grabbing her stomach.
Kale and Fredrick suddenly burst into the tavern, they quickly ran over to our table, “I don’t want to alarm anyone, but Avner is all fancied up and heading this way. Me thinks he plans ta go a courting. I thought I aught ta warn the lady folk.” Kale said looking directly at me.
“This way?” I asked, “Why would he be heading this way?”
“I overheard him asking Lirith which way you went,” Fredrick said, “Then I heard him asking his servants to get him a bath ready at the nearest inn.”
“That’s when Fred here ran into me,” Kale said, “We spied out the inn and found that he even had one of his servants try to beat the horse stink out of his best doublet. I don’t think anything good can come of this, so we thought we better come up here and warn you.”
Well I was thankful for that small mercy. Say what you may about Kale, at least he looks out for his friends.
“We have to get out of here!” I said, “Quick, let’s settle our bill and escape!”
We paid our bill and quickly packed up the remaining food and alcohol. I didn’t want to be anywhere near that tavern when Avner showed up. We ran out into the street to find Fredrick already watching the street corner. We began walking towards him when he suddenly ducked back.
“He’s coming this way!” he scarcely whispered.
“I don’t feel so good,” Kiki mumbled.
“Quick the other way,” shouted James, pointing towards the far end of the street.
We made a dash for it. James and Orlani were in the lead, Buffy, Churtle, and me in the middle, and Fredrick and Kale carrying Kiki in the rear. The far end of the street was too far to run to. We were only a few streets up and even Avner could cover that in less then a minute . . . it would take at least two minutes to reach the end of this street even if we ran! James clearly knew that, and after we had dashed past the tavern, he led us down an alley way. Kale set Kiki down just in time to let Kiki puke up most of her meal. Fredrick and James kept watch while Orlani and I held back Kiki’s hair and kept her upright.
“Brhhaagghhh!” Kiki retched, “This is fun,” she said between heaves, “we should do it more often.”
When James and Fredrick gave us the all clear we quickly ducked out of our ally and briskly walked to the end of the street and then doubled back to the ship. It was dark by the time we arrived and I really didn’t feel like heading back out again. Kiki said that she wanted to go out drinking again but the rest of us advised her against the idea. Still, the night was young, I told the others to go out and have some fun. I would stay in and get caught up on my writing. My own personal diaries needed editing and I needed to look over my captain’s log as well. Being captain was quite a lot work. The others decided to just visit the tavern at the far end of the peer . . . we’d be back at sea soon enough, and I can’t say I blame them for wanting to take every opportunity cut loose.
When I made my way aboard ship I was surprised to find Amella standing watch.
“Amella, you’re back early,” I said, “I thought Skald volunteered to stand watch.”
“He did,” Amella said, “I relieved him at dusk. I want to see who comes back early and who comes back late. And I didn’t come back early. I never left. Now that I got a ship I’m happiest here.”
I nodded. I made my way to my cabin but something stopped me. “Amella,” I said without turning to look at her, “Does it ever get lonely?” I couldn’t bring myself to ask the rest.
She didn’t turn to face me either. “Sometimes . . .” she said, “but you’re young, you’ll find someone, but for me, all I have is the memories of a fine man and the sea, and for now, that’s enough.”
I felt sad for the both of us. Amella was beautiful, she could have any man she wanted, but she lost the love of her life somehow . . . and now she wanted to stay alone. Me, I wasn’t plain, but I wasn’t beautiful . . . I didn’t have money, I couldn’t sing or dance, and I really wasn’t good at making small talk. All I had was my magic . . . and no man was ever attracted to a female wizard. I was going to die alone.
I bit back the tears. I would be strong. If Lavinia could suffer through all she had then my pathetic social problems were nothing. Nothing. When my family is murdered, when my sibling turns out to be a traitor, when I watch a loyal friend murdered before my very eyes, only then will I take the time for tears. Until then I will be strong like my Lady Vanderboren.
Help me be Strong my Lady,
Cthulhu dreams
Are these author's notes from a new journal entry? Because if so, I don't see the entry. :(
This brings up the fondest memories !
"Fort Blackwell", home of too many drinks, the overcrowded local jail, smashed mirrors and utterly ravaged taverns. What is it about this town that brings out the thirst in respectable groups of adventurers *leer*
Gods above , I suppose they lavishly sacrifised to you when we finally hoisted the anchor and sailed south....
There is something about the STAP, rum and adventurers, on my soul ! Although I find a halfling succumbing to alcohol incongrous....
This brings up the fondest memories !
There is something about the STAP, rum and adventurers, on my soul ! Although I find a halfling succumbing to alcohol incongrous....
Put enough rum into any living critter without magical protection and it will succumb. The fun part is what they did that they don't remember afterwards ...
Well, the players just got entry 12 last night. You guys are in for a good laugh! There's a particular sceane that was writen up pretty close to how it was RPed.
This comment was about the latest Lidu post on this site. Kale's short lived diary starts very soon in the Lidu story line. I haven't got to work on it yet, but I still do have everything down in pencil. It's needs heavy editing!
Talking about what drives Kale. Well he's got the good old love for adventuring. Though as time went on, he felt like he was the person keeping the part from falling to far to the dark side. Kale is often suspicious of Tristan's intent. He trusts her, but sometimes worries she's loosing her mind. At least at this point in the story.Oh Brent I loved "Company of the Dreaming Wyvern"! It was cleaver enough that Kale wouldn't catch it's hidden meaning. It was my #1. "Swords of Sasserine" was my #3 pick. Sorry I tried Brent. LOL
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Ok everyone, just a reminder that there are no new updates today, but next week the saga continues in an episode I like to call “operation: bloody mess” or “where's an egg?”
So tune in next week for more Lidu fun (and insanity) and remember your comments and questions are always welcome.
My only real comment at this point is that I wish these diaries happened more than biweekly. I understand everyone has real life responsibilities, so I am not complaining as such. It's just this diary is among the best campaign journals on the site. I would put it right up there with James Jacobs Tyralindi Scrimm journal for Age of Worms in terms of how much I enjoy reading it. Great Job!!
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Well, the players just got entry 12 last night. You guys are in for a good laugh! There's a particular sceane that was writen up pretty close to how it was RPed.This comment was about the latest Lidu post on this site. Kale's short lived diary starts very soon in the Lidu story line. I haven't got to work on it yet, but I still do have everything down in pencil. It's needs heavy editing!
Talking about what drives Kale. Well he's got the good old love for adventuring. Though as time went on, he felt like he was the person keeping the part from falling to far to the dark side. Kale is often suspicious of Tristan's intent. He trusts her, but sometimes worries she's loosing her mind. At least at this point in the story.
Oh Brent I loved "Company of the Dreaming Wyvern"! It was cleaver enough that Kale wouldn't catch it's hidden meaning. It was my #1. "Swords of Sasserine" was my #3 pick. Sorry I tried Brent. LOL
I appreciate it KattHunter. I was hoping my name might get to make a cameo appearance in the Lidu Diaries. Alas, not meant to be. I am really fascinated by the interrelationship between Kale and Tristan. It is part of what makes this diary such an interesting read.
Longtime lurker here, just wanted to say thanks for this thread. Great story, good characterizations. I'm staying away from other STAP threads to avoid spoilers.
Hop-Toy Dan:
** spoiler omitted **
Thank you for these diaries -- it was your story that convinced me to forsake homebrew and run STAP as our next campaign and we are all loving it.
Hop-Toy Dan:
** spoiler omitted **
** spoiler omitted **
Thank you for these diaries -- it was your story that convinced me to forsake homebrew and run STAP as our next campaign and we are all loving it.
I freely admit, I am a big fan of quite a few of these wonderful, character-driven campaign journals. Sadly, as the GM, combined with my RL workload, I do not have the time, energy nor inclination to post such a monumental undertaking.
From another perspective, I suppose 'journals' like mine and Allen's serve as the Dark Side of the campaign journals, revelling in the gruesome details pertaining to character demises and other such macabre divulgences.
I freely admit, I am a big fan of quite a few of these wonderful, character-driven campaign journals. Sadly, as the GM, combined with my RL workload, I do not have the time, energy nor inclination to post such a monumental undertaking.From another perspective, I suppose 'journals' like mine and Allen's serve as the Dark Side of the campaign journals, revelling in the gruesome details pertaining to character demises and other such macabre divulgences.
I think you and Allen have many more players then we do. Our group swelled to 11 people two nights back in the 90s but for the most part our core has always been around 6-8. It's very hard to have a character driven campaign with anything greater then those numbers, giving each player 'face time' means that the majority of players are sitting around doing nothing. I find that Allen's style (from what little I've read of his journals) seems to be opposite of mine. As a player I like having complex character back grounds, I like to plan my character out for a few levels, and I love devolving relationships (between PCs and NPCs). I get the feeling that might be a problem in Allen's game.
As a DM I want my players to succeed, Allen seems to take great glee in seeing them fail, but if his players are having fun then who am I to say he's doing anything wrong ;)
^_^ Allen & I have been friends since 1982, so we have developed very similar tastes when it comes to D&D. For me, D&D is a poor game for character developement et al simply because there is almost no significant game mechanical reason to actually roleplay. There are other games available which game mechanically offer significant rewards for good RP, of which D&D really has never been one.
I think it safe to say he and I find more enjoyment in the 'Diet Roleplay' (talking smack, one-liners, etc while hack-n-slashing our way to schwag and exp) approach to the game. Especially with large groups it is not practical to seriously bother to roleplay much, for the reasons you've already described. And over time other RPG's have proven far better for an RP-driven campaigns.
D&D has its own unique 'chemistry', which as we have all seen time and again seems to overcome despite its own company's efforts to shred them in the past. :)
Keep in mind, his campaign journal is probably about as close to roleplaying as Allen cares to do. One of our players has dubbed him " Dr. Grin " because of this GM'ing alter-ego (so to speak). I leave it to Allen to elaborate further should he so choose.
Praise be to the Stern Lady for granting me a strong belly. She has built me of strong stern stuff indeed! I have never wilted at the sight of red, but even I didn’t know a human could hold that much blood.
The forenoon watch started as it always did, Fredrick updated his charts, I relieved Buffy at the helm, and we continued our tedious journey south. Not that I was complaining! I love tedium and routine. No one has ever died from a lack of danger or adventure, quite the opposite, and if nothing more exciting happened on our journey south I wouldn’t be disappointed. Reading about adventures was far safer then experiencing them.
Unfortunately another uneventful day was not what Norebo had rolled for us. Lirith popped up from below deck and gave us the first hint of bad news:
“Father Feres is sick,” she said, “bad. He can’t even get out of bed. Got a bad fever too. I think we’re gonna have to give his watch to someone else. Maybe we should send down a priest and read em’ his last rites or something?”
“Lirith,” I said in a calm voice, “I’m sure you wouldn’t appreciate jokes at your expense if you were sick. Let’s try to be respectful alright?”
“Yes mam,” Lirith mumbled. She was a tough character to figure out, sometimes she seemed to yearn for friendship, and other times she seemed stand-offish. She was slightly older then me and I think she’d resent me if I tried to take her under my wing, but she desperately needed a friend to offer her guidance, and as Captain I couldn’t fill that role. I think she needed a male influence in her life. Kale was definitely not right for her, Fredrick was . . . well Fredrick, and Avner wasn’t good for anyone. Sadly the best choice as a mentor for the young woman was James. Lirith even seemed to emulate and seek his approval at times. Thankfully James failed to notice her.
“Buffy just finished her morning watch and is probably in our cabins seeing to her prayers,” I said, “wait for her to finish and then ask her to look into Father Feres.”
“Yes mam,” she said slinking off. I had James re-arrange the shifts. Even if Buffy was able to get him up and about, it was common practice to excise the ill for the reminder of the day.
I heard Buffy emerge from our cabins and go bellow deck. Time passed. Suddenly Buffy was almost running up the steps of the stern castle, she practically bowled over Urol to get to me.
“I think there’s something growing in Father Feres,” she whispered none too quietly to me.
“What?” I said, more out of shock and disbelief then any actual inability to hear what Buffy said.
“I said . . .” she said slightly louder.
“I heard you,” I said glancing to the others nearby, everyone was suddenly watching, “Let’s go,” I said moving towards the stairs, “show me!” I said pulling Buffy along with me. “Amella,” I yelled to my first mate (who was thankfully almost always on deck), “take the helm and find something for these ‘lollygaggers’ to do!”
We made our way bellow decks. We found Feres in his bunk. A small crowd had already begun to form. It didn’t help that Father Feres was bunking in the main dorms.
“I want this room cleared,” I said, “get your hammocks and get to the hold. We need to make sure Father Feres here doesn’t have anything that’s catching.”
They cleared out pretty quick. Father Feres looked absolutely awful. His skin was flush and he was covered with sweat. He moaned and babbled almost incoherently. Buffy pulled back the bed sheets and showed me the abnormal lump on Feres a hands width bellow the ribcage. I was no surgeon but even I knew that we’d have to cut the thing out.
“Can you do it?” I asked Buffy.
“What? Operate?” she said with surprise.
“Well it has to come out right?” I said glancing at her, “And you’re the only one capable of doing it, so you’re the one that has to operate.”
“But I’ve never operated before.”
“You think I’ve ever captained a ship before? We all have to start somewhere! Get some tools together and we’ll do our best.”
Buffy nodded and quickly left. I stepped out of the cabin as well and found Lirith unusually close to the cabin door. She busied herself as she saw me. “Something you need Lirith?” I asked.
“Oh, no, I was just going to . . . I was just going to get . . . er . . .”
“Get topside and tell Amella that you need something to do. I’m sure she’ll find something for you.”
“But I just finished a shift!” she said, sounding a bit like a petulant child.
“Then I imagine you’ll sleep well tonight.” I said, “The devil makes work for curious cats and idle work is often fatal. Now scoot!” She glared at me, but she did as she was told. She nearly bumped into Buffy on the way upstairs. Buffy was coming back down with all the ship’s medical tools . . . including the bone saw.
“You really need all that?” I asked.
“I don’t know! I’ve never operated before!” She said with a hint of panic in her voice.
“Ok relax,” I said, “me and father Feres need you to be relaxed. I’m sure you’ve seen this sort of thing before. Just relax and we’ll use what ever you can remember.”
“I saw a birth once . . .”
“Ok,” I said, trying not to let the nervousness creep into my voice, “I’m sure that will be helpful. What should we do first?”
Buffy looked to her tools then to Feres. “We should get him into a more sterile environment . . . we should also probably give him something for the pain . . . and we’ll need to make sure these tools are clean.”
“Ok,” I stepped out of the room, “Churtle!” I yelled to the galley.
“Ya boss?” Churtle yelled sticking her head out of the galley.
“Boil some water.”
“Ok,” Churtle said ducking back into the galley.
I spotted Tavey bellow deck. “Tavey,” I said, causing the boy to snap to attention, “Get James and Kale. Tell them I need them bellow deck.”
Tavey jumped at the opportunity to deliver a message to his hero Kale. The child really did adore Kale . . . but sadly he paid the boy very little attention. While he was fetching Kale and James I retrieved a bottle of rum from the pantry. Kale and James were waiting for me when I returned.
“He doesn’t look so good,” Kale said when I arrived.
“He doesn’t have anything catching?” asked James.
“Yes,” I said to Kale, “no,” I said to James, “we need to move him into a smaller room. We need to operate and there’s bound to be some blood.”
“But where do we take him?” Kale asked, “We don’t really have any empty space anywhere.” I didn’t really have an answer.
“The officer’s cabin is the only room not currently occupied,” James said, “or we could leave him here, current watch will be on for more then three hour. Night watch could tough it out in the hold . . .”
“The mess is right outside this door,” I said, “and shift ends at lunch. I want Feres away from the others, the less people that know about this the better.”
“Why,” Kale asked, “what’s wrong with Feres?”
“He’s got something growing in him,” I said, James and Kale’s eyes widened, “and Buffy is going to try and remove it before it kills him.”
“In that case,” James said with a nervous look to Feres, “we’d better move him as far away as possible from the crew.”
We moved Feres. We quickly stripped and cleaned the room as best be could, placing Feres’ on the bottom bunk, I got a small stool for Buffy and saw that we had (what I thought at the time was) a lot of towels, bandages, and clean sheets. Churtle arrived with the hot water and I helped clean the tools. Kale tried giving Feres the rum . . . but he wasn’t able to keep anything down. We could only hope that he was able to absorb some of the alcohol from the limited contact. He was already pretty delirious from the illness. Finally we stripped Feres and Buffy poured a bit of the sterile alcohol over his abdomen where she was going to cut.
Buffy took the biggest knife she could find and cut into Feres.
We ran into complications almost immediately. The first cut was too far from the abnormal growth. Buffy had tried to avoid piercing or rupturing the strange growth in case it was filled with fluid that could prove toxic to the patient. It soon became apparent that we’d need to cut too much to get to the growth. Buffy decided to try a different angle. That’s when Father Feres began to feel the pain from the first cut . . . as Buffy began the second cut Feres suddenly moved. Buffy nicked something vital and blood sprayed all over the wall of the cabin.
“Kale! James!” I shouted, “We need you to hold Feres down!”
They quickly moved into the room, Kale grabbed the priest’s arms, and James lay across Feres’ legs. Buffy tried another cut, but there was too much blood in the wound and she couldn’t see what she was doing. I used the towels to try to soak up the blood and give Buffy a clear view, but the wound was filling too quickly, and we were rapidly soaking threw our stockpile. The blood loss was also affecting Feres. His struggling grew weaker and weaker. It was possible that we might kill him before we could remove the strange growth. Buffy stood back and used her healing prayers to repair some of the damage we’d inadvertently caused. Unfortunately it also sealed our cuts . . . forcing us to start over.
I cleaned our tools. Buffy cut into Feres again.
“Buffy no!” I said in horror, “That’s where you made the first incision!”
Buffy pulled back in shock. The pressure was really getting to her. I covered the cut with a clean sheet. Blood quickly seeped through our makeshift bandages. Buffy (her hands shaking) looked to the far unmarked side of Feres’ torso for her approach to the growth. She had scarcely lanced the skin when blood and puss began bubbling out.
“Oh no!” Buffy cried.
“Did you cut the growth?” I asked in revulsion.
“No, I don’t think,” Buffy said, trying to mop up the mess with towels, “I think this formed around the growth. It’s probably infected. We’ll have to drain it before we can continue.”
“How do we do that?” asked Kale.
“Roll him onto his side,” she said, “it’s the easiest way.”
We rolled him. A disturbing amount of reddish white liquid poured out of the wound. It smelled worse then it looked (and it looked bad). I thought for a moment I was going to be sick. The flow seemed to stop . . . then Buffy applied some pressure. The revolting stream began again. When the wound seemed empty Buffy had us put Feres back on his back. After the wound had been cleared Feres seemed to calm down some. We needed a mop and some buckets to clean the floor. We also got some fresh towels.
Buffy rolled up her sleeves and washed her hands. Then she tenderly began probing the drained wound with her hands. She gasped and pulled her hand back in surprise.
“What is it?” I asked.
Buffy gently put her hand in again, this time with purpose, and she very firmly touched the inside of the wound. “It’s hard,” she said, “like an egg. The growth has some sort of shell around it. This isn’t at all natural.”
That rung a bell in the back of my brain, had I been able to stop and think I probably would have realized the cause of ‘Father Feres’ illness right then and there, but the renewed cries of the patient caused me to put aside my reflection for the time being.
“I think I can just cut a slit across the top of this thing and I may be able to gently squeeze it out.” Buffy said.
“Oh the pain!” Feres was crying, “give me something for the pain!”
We tried giving him some more rum but he still couldn’t hold anything down. Thankfully he wasn’t sick into his own open wounds. All we could do was try to finish the operation as quickly as possible. Buffy cut an “X” over the growth. Bright red blood bubbled out over Feres’ skin. Buffy placed her hand into the drained wound and tried to force the growth out threw the fresh cut. Feres screamed in agony every time Buffy applied pressure, causing her to stop.
“I think I’m just pushing it to the side,” Buffy said, “I think I need pressure from both sides.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, but Buffy didn’t answer. She picked up the blood covered knife and cut another slash into Feres opposite the drained wound. In her haste she cut too deep. A fine mist of blood sprayed us over us. James cried as he got it in the face. Blood began pumping out of Feres in a steady stream. Buffy, undaunted, thrust her hands into the open wounds and tried to force the growth out. Father Feres screamed.
“You’re killing him!” Kale shouted.
Buffy tried a moment longer. Then she pulled her bloody hands out of Feres and placed them on his chest. I watched as the wounds knitted themselves closed.
“We have to stop,” Kale said, “if we keep this up we’ll kill him.”
“That thing growing inside of him will kill him as well,” I said. I knew I was right. Part of me now knew what we were dealing with. That part wasn’t quite ready to share yet. “I’d rather take the risk of killing him ourselves then let whatever’s growing in him do it for certain.”
“Maybe Kaskus could . . .” James tried to suggest.
“No!” I snapped, “Buffy is our best chance. She can do this,” I said looking at her, “I know you can. You just need to think real hard. We need to try a different method.”
Buffy thought for a long moment. Feres began babbling. Praying to Olidammara (of all deities) to save him.
“I have an idea,” Buffy said, “might work . . . especially if this thing has smooth sides.”
We cleaned our tools off again. I washed Feres’ abdomen off again. Buffy then made a small half circle cut over the growth. She then pushed down on either side of the wound. Feres screamed again. At first nothing happened. Then, just as I sensed Buffy was about to give up, a small oval shape (like the top of an egg) begun rising from the wound. Buffy applied more pressure and the evil thing kept rising. It seemed impossibly large. It kept rising and rising, I began imagining that the thing might be the size of Kiki’s head, but thankfully it popped out, reviling it to be the size of an ostrich egg.
We picked the thing up and smashed it. Inside was a small partially formed frog like humanoid.
“What the hell is that thing?” Kale asked.
“A slaad,” I said, “a blue one. Horrible creatures. Not native to this world. It would have killed him for sure . . . and it might have killed dozens more after it hatched.”
“Thank you,” Father Feres said weakly, “you saved my life.”
“You’re welcome Father,” Buffy said, “I was glad to help.”
“That’s not my name,” the man said, “My name is Conrad, Conrad Horst; I’m not even a real priest.”
“What?” I said.
“I’m a scribe, out of Cauldron, only I got into trouble in that town and needed a way out. These priests offered me a cover and a spot on a ship leaving Sasserine if I delivered this package to their temple in Fort Blackwell . . . only now I’m thinking that they weren’t really priests either. When I got to Blackwell they invited me it, asked me to stay the night, and I got this really bad feeling about the whole situation. But I stayed, I figured they might blow my cover if I didn’t do as they asked, and they gave me some food and drink. I can’t remember anything after that . . . I think they drugged me. I woke the next morning and they were gone. I came back to the ship and I’ve been feeling worse ever sense. I feel bad about the stuff I’ve done, lying, especially to you guys, I can only hope that you’ll forgive me.”
“Toss him in the brig,” I said.
“Tristan!” Buffy and Kale said almost at once.
“Besides we don’t have a brig,” James quickly added.
“Then throw him in one of the cages we brought,” I snapped.
“Conrad here came clean with us,” Kale said, “He didn’t have to do that. Honesty is big in my books. He didn’t have to tell us the truth, and putting him in a cage seems to me to be an entirely inappropriate punishment.”
“Kale this man has endangered our lives in more ways then one,” I said, trying to avoid another confrontation with Kale, “first of all he’s not a real priest. Let’s pretend that the gods can be forgiving and that he didn’t endanger the mortal souls of our sailors with his blasphemy. Let’s pretend that this blue slaad egg was in no way his fault and he was a completely innocent victim in all this. The fact remains that he claimed to be a priest and we hired him as a priest, he’s here to tend to the crew, and heal the sick and injured! He can’t do that can he? We’re 19 days out of Sasserine and we’re down a priest! Buffy here can easily fill that roll for now, but what happens when we leave ship? Like those ruins you volunteered for? Who looks after the crew then?”
“I have some potions and a wand . . .” Conrad tried to say in his defense.
“Shut you’re yap!” I snapped, “I knew we should have gotten another priest . . . I just knew it!”
“I didn’t argue against that,” Kale said, “I just said that . . .”
“And the worst part of all this,” I said cutting Kale off, “is how it will look in the eyes of the crew. Lavinia Vanderboren and Tristan Lidu duped by a con man. Maybe a few will think ‘wow, that Conrad must be real smart to have fooled those two,’ but we both know how the vast majority will see it, don’t we Kale? ‘Lavinia and Tristan, what a couple of dumb wenches, couldn’t even tell old Conrad wasn’t a priest, and they’re supposed to be leading this expedition?’ Any respect I might have built up these last few weeks will be gone once word of this breaks!”
“He fooled all of us,” James was trying to say, but I talked right over him.
“What did you do in Cauldron Conrad?” I asked the wounded conman, “Play a priest there? Maybe commit a little high treason? Lords,” I exclaimed, coming to a sudden realization, “We’ve been transporting a wanted felon! We could be held libel for any crimes he might commit, we could get charged with aiding and abetting a known criminal.”
“I swindled a couple of old ladies,” Conrad cried. “I’d give the money back if I had it.”
“Oh, you’ll forgive me if I don’t believe you Conrad,” I said with as much venom as I could muster, “I’ll let you think about consequences of you actions over the next few days as you rot in your cage . . . a cage that is entirely of your own making!”
“I still think that’s far too harsh . . .” Kale said.
“Fine,” I said, “you know what the penalty for heresy is in most civilized lands? You know what happens to those who falsely claim to be priests? You know what happens to smugglers in some countries? You think I’m being harsh? Let’s drop him off at one of the scarlet brotherhood forts and see what they do with him! He’s going into a cage until I decide what to do with him. I’m not going to kill him, I’m not going to mutilate him, I’m not going to torture him, and I’m not going to deliver him to slavers, but I’m not going to let him go free either! I’m sorry, but ‘feeling bad about it’ just isn’t enough.”
I stormed out of the room. I don’t know what was said after I left but Conrad did end up in a cage in the hold. I returned to my cabin, changed my cloths, and washed all the blood away from my face and hands. After I was cleaned and refreshed I returned to my place beside the wheel. Technically my watch was over, but I didn’t have any appetite, and I really didn’t feel like being alone. Amella nodded when she saw me . . . but said nothing.
Kiki moved from her usual spot at the bow of the ship to visit me at the helm.
“How’s Father Feres?” Kiki asked.
“Dead,” I said, drawing gasps from those around us, “but Conrad Horst is alive and well, in fact he’s likely to make a full recovery.”
“Who’s Conrad Horst?” Kiki asked.
“That’s what I’d like to know,” I said, “most likely a fugitive from the law, claims he was originally from Cauldron, we’ll have to check with the local authorities there before we can know for sure. His little stint pretending to be a priest is not likely to have been his only con.”
“Wait,” Kiki said, “so this Conrad character was pretending to be Father Feres?”
“If there even is a Father Feres,” I said, “if Conrad is his real name.”
“Where is he now?” Amella asked.
“In a cage in the hold most likely,” I said, “until I can figure out what to do with him anyways. I don’t suppose we’re going to be stopping at any friendly ports along the way, that we can drop Conrad off at, to ship back to Cauldron is there?”
“Well,” Fredrick said as moved over to join in the conversation, “There is Fort Greenrock, it’s kind of out of the way, and sandwiched between scarlet brotherhood’s strongholds. It doesn’t see much traffic going north or south and if we drop him off there the next ship that passes heading to Sasserine or Cauldron might be us on the return voyage.”
“We’re weeks from there,” Amella said, “either drop him off on the shoreline with a day’s worth of rations and a weapon, or put him to work and cut him loose at the next friendly port.”
“Sounds good,” I said, suddenly feeling bone tired, “but first he sweats it out in the hold for a couple of days. Amella, the helm is yours again; I’ll be in my cabin if anyone needs me.”
As I made my way down the stairs I spotted Lirith pushing a mop. She looked as tired as I felt. When she spotted me she began mopping harder but I called her over:
“Lirith,” I said.
“Yes mam,” she said.
“Get one of the junior seamen to finish that for you,” I said, “you put in a full day already, retire to your bunk and get some rest.”
“Yes mam,” She said as she dropped the mop. I think she may have been too tired to be angry with me. Perhaps I had been too hard on her earlier . . . she wasn’t a bad egg after all.
Conrad could rot.
I hate liars and thieves,
Cthulhu dreams.
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The thing I really like about this most recent journal entry, is that we are beginning to see the effect of the contact with the far realm on Tristan's mind. Her shorter temper, and more callous view of those around her is all undoubtedly due to her growing insanity. It'll be interesting to watch as she further devolves into madness.
wow, Tristan get' tough !
And there was me thinking out captain was being a hardass ( far too much interest in the navy and things maritime, that player... ), but Tristram..... Must be all that noble upbringing and the attitude that people obey you as a matter of course...
I just wonder when she is going to get the whip to enforce discipline, hehe
PS Lirith was one of the passengers really I was not fond of at all. Spoiled stupid brat with attitudes.... keep her shrubbing !
Ya, Guy was telling us about the anagram last session (which wasn't STAP). I had totally forgot that he had at first jokingly called Hop Toy Dan, Hypno Toad! Was a while ago! I never noticed Hop Toy Dan was an anagram. Though I'm not very good at anagrams.
Next entry is a good one. We get to see some of Fred's background, so stay tunned.
At least I think that it's the next one.....
Edit: Ok I checked, it's not till the entry after. Though so is the line Tristan uses to scare the crew. Sorry fans.
RPG Superstar 2011 Top 32
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I thought you might point this out, but look at it this way: he's got the entire set of diaries (thus far) on his computer and he can't even remember what order they're in. In two weeks time we should be on page 4. As long as Katthunter doesn't look back on PG 3 I feel perfectly safe. What are the chances of that ;)
Curses! A pox upon you, you waxed mustache twirling fiend! You have bested me!
...
*shrug* I only have 15 and up. Thought 15 was the one posted. Oh well.
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Wow, I got it right. Anyhow Guy, don't put my name in the journal for the heck of it. I want to earn it if it happens at all. Otherwise it won't be as exciting. Also, to clarify what I was saying about Tristan's detioration... It isn't so much that I think the exposure to the Far Realm is giving her a shorter fuse, so much as it seems that she is getting more "frayed" around the edges. Early in the story, she was very proper, and almost the quintessential definition of "noble". Lately however, she seems to be becoming more visceral. I'm not sure if that makes sense, but just reading the story, it feels like you can see something is changing in Tristan's personality, even if the source of that thing isn't completely apparent yet.
Just finished catching up on reading these diaries and I would like to thank you for sharing them and hope you will continue to write up your party's exploits in the Savage Tide.
I will begin DMing this campaign in a couple of weeks, so I have started prep-work as my group works out schedules and stuff. I am finding that the campaign journal posts and other threads, like the obituaries, provide invaluable insight into how other 'tables' play. Seeing where other party's struggle or fail, and where they succeed pinpoints areas that I will want to concentrate on.
I think the best thing about this particular journal is the presentation, its RP aspects where it also nicely details events and NPC interactions. Just give a little bit more info (character levels and other game mechanics type stuff) in the authors notes.
Cheers!
Kale's Diary will start production this week. New monitor means I can look at my screen for more then 5 minutes without getting head aches! Plus my trip to TO is done. :) Posting will only happen when Tristan's diary is on par with Kale's. No spoilers for you guys! I'll be posting it right here in this thread.
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Anyhow Guy, don't put my name in the journal for the heck of it.Don't worry Brent, with an adventure of this size and scope, there's always unnamed NPCs running around. Had I had this kind of contest sooner you might have ended up as passenger or Crew aboard the Sea Wyvern. As it so happens this week or next I'll be writing about our last hoo-raw on the island of Renkrue and I have a slot for an unnamed bartender. Give me a quick description of how you'd like to see your self and I'll slide you into the story.
I would like to see myself as the sort of NPC who has just the right thing to say that the party needs to hear, even though they aren't aware that it was the right thing when it happened. Beyond that, characterize me however you like. It will make it interesting to see what you come up with. Thanks by the way. I love reading this journal, and it is a total geek-gasm to actually get my name into it, even as just a bartender or whatever.
I'll be looking forward to that appearance when you can work it in. Later,
Brent