PRELUDE: AN UNEXPECTED PARTY
The halflings Rubbumba and Zhandlegarri relaxed in their humble, but comfortable, living quarters, sipping herbal tea and trying to recover after their brief and harrowing adventure in Shadowshore.
"I never want to see a rat again in my life," said Zhandle with an involuntary shudder. Rubb stroked her hair gently. He suspected that his wife would harbor a life-long phobia for rats. At one point back on the garbage scow, she had been practically covered with the vermin, and had been nearly catatonic for some time thereafter.
"Those thugs, the Lotus Dragons, had quite a nefarious plot. Through pay-offs and intimidation, they virtually shut down the garbage collectors' and sewer-workers' guilds. Had we and our new friends not interfered, they would have crushed the ratcatchers' guild as well, plunging all of Shadowshore into rat-infested, disease-plagued chaos."
Rubb grew solemn as he remembered the friends who had helped in their adventure. Especially the boy Kelvin, so young and frightened -- in the end it was his sacrifice that saved them all. The sorcerous flames within him covered their escape from the garbage scow and the murderers based there.
Rubbumba's musings were interrupted by an unexpected knock at the door. Looking through the peephole, Rubb saw a wizened halfling woman.
"Hello, can I help...?"
"Brave Rubbumba! I'm so proud of you and Zhandlegarri. Sasserine's halfling community is abuzz with your exploits. You should hear the tales your Uncle Weston is telling anyone who will listen."
"Wh-who are you?" Zhandle half-asked and half-sneezed from over Rubb's shoulder, then nervously straightened the glasses on her nose.
"Oh right, quite sorry about that. I'm Kora. Kora Whistlegap. I'm in the service of the Vanderboren family. Well, just Lavinia Vanderboren now really. Quite tragic about her parents, you know.... But no time for that now! Lavinia asked me to find heroes, and heroes I have found! As soon as I heard about your adventure I knew you would be perfect. And, I must say, it will do me right proud to show Lavinia that halflings can be every bit as heroic as bigger folk. Oh, but look at the time, I really must run. See you tomorrow evening!"
The old halfling woman turned and began to race off as Rubb stared wide-eyed, trying to digest the rambling invitation.
"Wait!" cried Zhandle, stopping the woman in her tracks. "Tomorrow evening!?"
"Oh, right, quite right, so sorry. Forgot to give you -- THIS!" Kora thrust a small, rolled scroll into Zhandle's hand. "And now I'm off, others to invite to the party, you know." And with that, the woman was gone.
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Jouko roamed the dockside aimlessly. He had just come back into port after his last job at sea. It had been a rather uneventful tour on the Darkmaiden's Dance, a merchant caravel hauling coffee and spices grown on the vast plantations outside of Sasserine. He supposed that he should begin inquiring for work, booking his next voyage. Maybe another stretch of honest sailoring work. But maybe, he thought with an emerging twinkle in his eye, something a bit more -- adventurous. He would have to find another job eventually, after all. He had spent nearly every copper earned on his most recent voyage to settle old gambling debts.
At the moment, though, work was far from his mind. His thoughts turned instead to cold ale and maidens fair (as his thoughts tended to do). Well, maybe warm, stale draught. And maybe naughty wenches, not virtuous maidens. And maybe not so fair, really -- but enough drink would remedy that. His mind conjured an image of a buxom barmaid, foamy beer spilling forth from the large mugs she carried in each hand, her voluptous bosom spilling forth from her scandalously low-cut dress. In his daydream, he could hear the barmaid calling his name. "Jouko! Jouko! Juoko...!?" He never saw the wizened halfling woman until after he tripped over her and the two lay sprawled in a knotted mess. A few nearby dockworkers paused in their labors to laugh heartily.
"J-J-Jouko?" The halfling woman asked again. One of her arms reached toward the sky, clutching a small, tightly rolled scroll. Jouko hastily detached himself, stood, and eyed the little woman suspiciously.
"Yeah, that's me. Who be askin'?"
"I work for the Lady Vanderboren. She has use for someone with your ... unique skills. Someone who knows his way around a ship, and is accustomed to dealing with folk who may be less than reputable."
Vanderboren. The name sounded vaguely familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. This Lady Vanderboren character was obviously some sort of noble, which of course meant that Jouko would despise her. Yet the halfling's invitation carried with it a hint of the unsavory, something perhaps more daring and adventurous than his recent employment. The halfling extended the scroll to him.
"Well," she said, standing and straightening her rumpled dress. "May I tell the Lady to expect your company tomorrow eve?"
The midday sun glinted off his crooked gold tooth as Jouko smiled broadly. "Ye can tell the lady I'll feast her table."
A NOBLE IN NEED...
Rubbumba and Zhandlegarrii easily found Vanderboren Manor in the eastern section of the Merchant District. The seven-foot high stone wall surrounding the estate was impossible to miss, as was the towering, gothic three-story house that dominated the grounds within. Leering gargoyles and capering nymphs festooned the eaves of the manor's roof, and well-placed trees afforded the manor grounds a pleasant buffer from the bustle of the city. The front gates had been left open. A human woman waited at the gates, surveying the manor house and grounds. She was rather tall and stood with a proud, noble bearing. Her skin was somewhere between black and bronze, and her wild, dark hair was highlighted with glints of copper and bronze. She wore very minimal hide attire and a tall wicker shield strapped to one arm. A scimitar was slung low on her other side. A necklace of fearsome-looking teeth strung on a hide cord decorated her neck. Rubb guessed that she was a native of the Amedio Jungle, that wild inland beyond the city proper and outlying plantations of Sasserine.
“This must be the place, dear heart. Come, let us enter.” Taking Zhandle by the arm, Rubb strode up to the tall woman and presented his invitation.
The woman looked down at the halflings, her smoldering dark eyes flecked with copper. After a moment, she produced a similar invitation from a hide pouch at her side. “Well met, then, friends. I am Johari. It appears we are all guests of the Lady Vanderboren.” Her voice was throaty and her accent exotic.
“Well,” called a salty voice, “look who be comin’ ta dinner!” Jouko half-walked, half-stumbled towards the party assembled at the gate.
Rubb put a protective arm around Zhandle’s waist, his other hand edging toward the hilt of the dagger he wore at his side. “More pirates,” he said, gritting his teeth and ready for danger.
“Pirates?! Where?” bellowed Jouko, looking about in feigned surprise.
“He does look rather … piratey,” whispered Zhandle.
“What are you about, scoundrel?” challenged Rubbumba.
“Well, I’m about three sheets t’ the wind, wee lass!”
“Lass? LASS?! Why I … you … I am Rubbumba! Slayer of werebeasts, master herbalist, and protector of maidens fair!” sputtered Rubb. He looked quickly about, cheeks flushed, until his eyes fixed on Zhandle. He tightened his embrace and kissed her dramatically.
“Oooohh.” It was now Zhandle’s turn to blush mightily.
Jouko chuckled, a sound that was somehow both jolly and menacing, and punctuated with the odd hiccup. He pulled a slip of paper from within his sweat-stained shirt and waved it before him. “This here writ says I be dinning with the lady of da manor.”
“Very well then, scoundrel” said Johari, with only the slightest hint of humor. “Tonight, we dine in Vanderboren Manor.”
Johari turned and strode purposefully to the front door, the sailor and halflings in tow. Jouko grinned broadly down at Rubb, displaying his gold tooth along with the gummy spaces where teeth had been. Rubb wrinkled his nose, clenched Zhandle’s forearm tightly, and quickened his pace.
Shortly after knocking on the imposing front door, the party was greeted by a wizened halfling woman -- the same one who had delivered their invitations. “Greetings! Thank you all for joining us this evening. Please, step inside the atrium. The Lady Vanderboren shall be with you shortly.” The halfling woman gave a sly wink and smile to Zhandlegarri, and patted Rubbumba proudly on his upper arm as she ushered the party inside.
Inside, Jouko let out a low whistle. “Fine digs,” he muttered, though he frowned at some of the paintings of exotic ports. One painting in particular raised the gooseflesh on his arms, though he couldn’t say why. He took a shot from his flask, wiped his mouth with the back of his filthy hand, and promptly forgot about the paintings.
Rubb scowled at the smelly pirate and guided Zhan past him. However, she had soon disengaged herself from Rubb’s embrace for a closer inspection of the atrium’s décor. Zhandle turned in place, gazing up at the art, and knocked a potted fern from its stand. Rubb barely caught it before it hit the floor. He quickly ushered Zhandle to a bench, where he hoped she would cause less damage.
As they waited to be summoned, four figures emerged from the dining hall and headed their way. Kora raced behind the figures, which included a jaunty male half-elf dressed in leather armor and armed with a half-dozen daggers of different shapes, a dark-skinned dwarf with a sour expression dressed in green and brown robes and clutching a large curved spear, an attractive but haughty-looking woman dressed in dark purple robes and with a tattoo of a crescent moon on one cheek, and lastly, a tall and handsome man dressed in polished breastplate carrying a bastard sword. The mercenaries seemed to have little time or interest in the band assembled in the atrium, although the tall man did stop to size them up for a moment before announcing, "Hmm. You must be the help Lavinia's bringing in to do the chores. Best of luck."
After the mercenaries had gone, Rubbumba pulled Kora aside. “What was that all about? Who were those people?”
“Those are the Jade Dragons, the Vanderborens’ regular help. Never mind them. The Lady will see you now.” Kora opened the door into the private dining hall. The hall was comfortable and cozy, softly lit by wall-mounted lanterns. A window overlooked the manor's central courtyard and the carpet was thick and soft. A large portrait hung on the wall, a fine work depicting a handsome young man with a short beard. Standing before the portrait was an attractive human woman wearing a long, flowing blue dress. She smiled as the party entered, and introduced herself as Lavinia Vanderboren.
Jouko gave the portrait a double-take – he had seen the man before, perhaps as long as a year ago. It had been in a seedy tavern in Shadowshore. The man had bragged about his noble birth, mentioned something about the family fortune being his someday, and then ordered several rounds of drinks for the bar. As Jouko recalled, the man had later slinked away without paying his sizable tab. Jouko quickly pushed the memory aside, however, as he feasted his eyes upon the Lady Vanderboren.
“Welcome, and thank you for accepting my invitation.” Lady Vanderboren and Zhandle exchanged pleasantries, while Jouko ogled the Lady and hiccupped a greeting. Unused to so much public interaction, Rubb fidgeted nervously and clung to Zhandle’s arm. Though the gesture was meant to appear protective, in reality Rubb was comforted by having Zhandle near.
“As you may have heard, I recently inherited my parents' estate. Along with this fine house, unfortunately, came a fine amount of debt owed the Dawn Council, the harbormaster, and quite a few guildhalls. It seems my parents, for all their success as adventurers, were not as skilled at finance as one might expect. If I'm to get these taxes paid, I'll need to access my family's vault under Castle Teraknian.
“And that's the problem, you see. The vaults are magically locked -- keyed to special signet rings. Both of my parents had these rings, at least, until recently. My mother lost hers a few months ago. She arranged for a replacement, but it won't be done for another month or so, too late for me. Which leaves my father's ring. He never wore it -- he didn't believe men should wear jewelry. He kept it hidden somewhere on his ship, the Blue Nixie.
“The problem there is that the harbormaster has seized the ship until someone pays for the last four months of mooring. I've paid fines to the man the harbormaster's put in charge of my ship, a brute named Soller Vark. Yet when I went to claim my ship, Vark's men wouldn't let me board, claiming that I hadn't yet paid the fines. I spoke to Vark again and he denied ever receiving my payment. My complaints to the harbormaster have fallen on deaf ears -- he's a doddering old fool who trusts his man and won't relent.”
Jouko scratched his head, then examined the grease and dandruff beneath his nail thoughtfully. Soller Vark was known in the harbor as a pompous braggart, but a man of some skill with the blade. “I hear o'this man, Vark.”
“Vark and his men are up to something on my ship, I know it. What I need is to find out exactly what they're up to. Unfortunately, Vark's not the type to react well to diplomacy or logic. I need someone who speaks his language ... which is where you come in. If you can find out what he's using my ship for, or even better, recover the money I paid him, I'll pay each of you 200 gold in return once I've access to my vault.”
“What language does this Vark speak?” Zhandle inquired. Jouko interrupted before anyone could respond.
“Two hunnad ye say, how much ye pay Vark?”
“I paid the swine 100 platinum.”
Rubbumba coughed, and Jouko grinned brightly. “We just have ta see 'bout finding that purse now, won’t we?”
“I assure you, Lady, my wife and I will do our best to retrieve your purse. And,” Rubbumba scowled at Jouko, “it will be just as full as it was when you last saw it.”
Zhandle tugged at Rubb’s sleeve. “You remember I get seasick, right? And we still don’t know whether we speak the same language as this Vark character….”
Johari spoke for the first time since entering the manor. “This Vark sounds like worthless scum, typical of so-called ‘civilized’ humanity. But what has this to do with Johari?”
“I have reason to believe that Vark is involved in the smuggling of exotic animals, though I cannot prove it to the satisfaction of the watch.”
Johari’s jaw tightened at the mention of smuggling, and she nodded slowly. “I will do this.”
“Thank you all. I knew I could rely on you. Serve me well, and there may be future work in it for you.”
Jouko cleared his throat loudly. “Yer note mentioned dinner....” Rubbumba perked up, and Zhandlegarrii nodded enthusiastically. Lavinia Vanderboren apologized for placing business before the meal. Soon, servants had filled the large table with spiced meats, cheeses, freshly baked bread, exotic fruits and fine wine. It was the grandest meal Jouko had ever seen. Before long, Rubb had consumed more than he ever had in one sitting, Jouko was deep in his cups, and Zhandle wore a broad array of stains in various shapes, sizes and colors.
Through a mouthful of cheese, Rubbumba asked, “Who'f the guy wiff vuh friwwy collar?”
Lavinia followed his stare to the portrait on the wall. After a long pause, she sighed. “That is my brother, Vanthus.”
Jouko raised his goblet, spilling wine on Rubb. "To yer brother then." Lavinia smiled, but it was a mirthless gesture. Jouko didn’t seem to notice, as he drank deeply from his cup, and then cried, “Splice t’ mainbrace!”
Jouko asked how long ago Lavinia had paid Vark. “Over a week ago. I approached the watch and the government with my complaints, but unfortunately I have no proof of wrongdoing. It was foolish to hand over the money to Vark without allied witnesses.”
“Wouldn't help ya none anyway, sweatheart.”
Soon after it was decided that the party had enjoyed too much food and drink to pay a surprise visit to the Blue Nixie. Kora Whistlegap showed Rubb and Zhandle to a luxurious room in the manor. Jouko declined the invitation to sleep at the manor, referencing some business in the harbor he needed attend. Johari elected to make camp on the manor grounds, beneath sky and stars.
That night, Jouko hit the harbor in search of information about Soller Vark and the Blue Nixie. He learned that Vark was a disagreeable bald man with a jagged scar running down one arm, a wound he sustained in a bar fight but which he claimed was gifted to him in a battle with a hook-handed pirate. He also scouted out the Blue Nixie. According to Lavinia, the Blue Nixie was docked at pier five in the Merchant District. Alas, it became apparent to Jouko that the Blue Nixie was not docked at the pier at all, but was in fact moored to a float about 100 feet from the pier's end. After watching for a short while, he observed at least three different thugs patrolling the main deck. None of them appeared to be Vark. Jouko finished the night passed out beneath a table at a nearby tavern.
TROUBLE ON THE BLUE NIXIE
Kora Whistlegap knocked gently at the door to the room in which Rubbumba and Zhandlegarri slept. Hearing no answer, she tried again, a bit more forcefully. Finally she opened the door just a little and peered in. To her dismay, she saw Rubb lying on the floor, a large egg-shaped bump apparent on his bald noggin. She hurried over to rouse him.
“Master Rubbumba, are you all right?”
Rubb opened one tired eye, touched the painful knot rising on his head, and realized he was on the floor. He gave Kora an embarrassed smile. “Um, all right, yes, thank you.” He leapt up and found his pants. Zhandle stirred in bed. Soon the two were clothed and followed Kora downstairs for breakfast.
“Are you okay, Rubb?” Zhandle asked soothingly.
Rubb’s entire face and head flushed bright red. “We shall never speak of this again.”
The two joined Johari for a small, but satisfying breakfast. When they were finished, the tall woman stood. “Let us attend to these smugglers. If they have harmed but one of nature’s creatures, they shall regret it dearly.”
The three companions found Jouko already at the pier. Earlier that morning a barkeep had found him asleep under a table, and tossed him rudely onto the street. He had been watching the Blue Nixie ever since.
“Top o da’ morn to ya,” said Jouko, blowing a kiss in Johari’s direction. “Miss me, lass?”
“Ah, you look even uglier by daylight. But I’m glad to see you, nonetheless. I feared you’d be drunk or dead in some gutter, and we’d be a man short.”
“So, where is this ship?” asked Rubb.
“That be the Nixie there, off da pier about a hundred paces. Up for a swim?”
One thug, a human male, was visible on the quarterdeck, leaning idly against the ship's wheel. “So much for sneaking aboard, then,” mumbled Rubb.
“There be at least three aboard.”
Zhandlegarri whispered to Rubbumba. “He's not thinking of swimming is he? I can only dog paddle.”
Rubbumba patted Zhandle’s hand. “What is your plan then, scoundrel?”
“Of course I be talkin o'swimming!”
Zhandlegarrii turned pale.
Rubbumba pondered the several small rowboats tied off to the pier. “My love is not one for swimming, but I have an idea! Nobody would suspect foul play from a small rowboat with nought but a pretty, young lost halfling maiden inside. The rest of us can swim in behind her boat and board the Blue Nixie while the thugs are distracted.”
“Perhaps I can offer a distraction more to the liking of these scurvy dogs?” said Johari. Without hesitation, she shamelessly peeled the hide armor away from her firm breasts. She stepped into a dinghy and gestured for Zhandle to join her. Blushing, Zhandle gulped and boarded the dinghy with Rubb’s help. Jouko deftly untied the boat, muttering something about stealing the craft in broad daylight. Johari took up the oars and pushed off toward the Blue Nixie.
Jouko, staring blatantly after Johari, took two quick strides to the end of the pier, jumped off, and entered the water in a perfect dive. Rubb jumped in after him, clutching his nose with one hand and making quite a splash. The strong current threatened to flush him out to sea, but Jouko extended a hand, caught Rubb by the collar, and pulled him along.
Zhandlegarri looked to Johari’s heaving bosom as the exotic woman pulled hard on the oars. She then looked down at her own rather modest breasts. She strained to unbutton the high collar of her dress, finished one button, blushed at the simple act and left it at that. As the dinghy neared the Blue Nixie, the thug on the quarterdeck called out. "Who goes thar … why hello there, beauties!"
Jouko drew a quick breath and dove under water, pulling Rubb with him. The two stayed hidden from view, angling toward the ship’s bow.
Zhandle waved her hanky, nearly tumbling out of the boat. Johari called out lustily to the thug. “Hello sailor! I know it can be so lonely out at sea. And since it seems your captain won't let you come into port to satisfy your needs, I thought perhaps we could bring satisfaction to you!” Zhandle put a hand to her mouth and mumbled, “Oh dear!” Doggy-paddling nearby, Rubbumba nearly choked on a mouthful of sea water.
The thug stared at Johari's firm, bronzed breasts. "Ah, not many like ye about the harbor, that's fer sure. And the little one too, eh? Half-price, I'm thinkin', harrr!"
Zhandle opened her mouth wide in shock at the vulgar comment. “Half-price?!” she harrumphed.
“We’re a team,” teased Johari. “One price includes everything.”
“Um, yeah,” said Zhandlegarrii. “I could, um, you like, erm, you know….” Zhandle began counting on her fingers. “But I don’t do that, or that of course, and certainly not that….”
The thug rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Boys, look at this." Two more thugs appeared near the rail on the main deck. "Vark would be pissed, but he still be sleepin.'"
Jouko had to hold onto Rubb tightly as the halfling sputtered and kicked. Jouko guided Rubb to some ropes out of the thug’s line of sight, and began climbing aboard.
“What do you say, boys?” called Johari. “Bring us up and we'll take care of the three of you!"
The first thug nodded at the others. “All right then, but we have to keep it quiet.” The thugs on the main deck lowered ropes for Johari and Zhandle and began pulling them quickly on board.
“Oh, they’ll be quiet enough with their mouths full,” called one of the thugs as he helped Zhandle over the rail.
“That’s quite enough” muttered Rubb as he climbed a rope up the side of the ship. He lunged over the rail and bellowed, "That's my wife you're talking about, villain – and she's worth full price, nothing less!" Jouko moaned and nimbly leapt aboard the Blue Nixie.
The thugs appeared startled. Though they all carried crossbows, none were at the ready. Zhandle began quietly casting a spell, hoping to go unnoticed. The nearest thug, however, swung at her with his unloaded crossbow. The weapon narrowly missed the top of her skull. As she finished the spell, she quietly said the word, “Sleep.” The thug’s eyes glazed over and he dropped to the deck like a sack of potatoes.
In the confusion, Johari swiftly drew her scimitar and swung it in a wide arc, cutting deeply into the chest of the thug nearest her, a vile man with an eye-patch. Seeing his opportunity, Rubb raced across the deck and swung his short-sword with all his might. The attack caught the injured thug unawares, striking deep into his thigh and sending up an arterial spray of blood. The man collapsed in writhing pain on the deck and almost immediately lost consciousness.
The thug on the quarterdeck screamed, “Ye filthy sneakin’ treacherous b$*%@!” He leveled his crossbow at Johari and let loose a bolt that sunk into her left shoulder, just above her wicker shield. The thug then screamed a cry of alarm. “All hand adeck, we’ve been boarded!”
Jouko sprang into action, pulling his spiked chain from around his neck as he leapt to the base of the stair leading to the quarterdeck. Jouko sent his chain swinging in a low arc at the thug’s feet. Jouko pulled the chain tight, and the thug fell hard on the deck. Without pause, Jouko sent his chain into action again. This time, the chain found the man’s throat, neatly snapping his neck. He flopped like a fish for an instant, and then lay still.
Before they could enjoy their victory, the companions heard the sound of activity below deck, and more cries of alarm!
MONSTER ON THE LOOSE
Rubbumba raced to Zhandlegarrii's side. She spread her arms, expecting an embrace, but instead Rubb's nimble hands went about the work of buttoning Zhandle's blouse. "There there, darling -- can't be fighting pirates looking like a floozy. That's much better." Zhandle's cheeks blazed red.
Meanwhile, Johari pulled the crossbow bolt out of her shoulder, her jaw clenched against the pain. She mumbled some exotic sounding words and a green aura appeared around her hand, healing her wound. Jouko stood alert, spinning his chain in a tight vertical loop.
The door beneath the quarterdeck flew open forcefully, and two more thugs stepped out onto the main deck, rapiers at the ready. Zhandle screamed and pointed furiously at the men. This sent Rubb into a screaming fit of his own. His scream rose as, eyes wide with terror, he charged at the thugs. For their part, the men clearly did not expect to be met by a shrieking halfling rushing their way. Rubb buried his short sword in the thigh of one of the men, and for an instant the two stood there, eyes locked, screaming at one another in terror and surprise.
Johari sheathed her scimitar and began casting in a strange tongue. She held her open hand before her, and flames as bright as a torch sprang from her palm. She stepped forward slowly, sizing up the uninjured thug.
Jouko sent his spiked chain whirling overhead as he surged across the deck. "We be here for Vark lads, ye best get over the side lest yer skulls get crushed!" Jouko stopped short of the melee, chain at the ready, and waited for either of the thugs to make a false move. The thug that Rubb had veritably skewered pulled free of the halfling's small blade and made a desperate break for the stair leading to the quarterdeck. Jouko's chain lashed out, seeking the man's fleeing legs. The thug managed to stop in his tracks, tumbling out of the chain's path ... and right back into Rubb's stabbing sword. The thug slumped onto the deck, fatally wounded. Rubb's scream continued, but transitioned from terror to triumph.
The remaining thug lunged at Johari with his rapier. She skillfully pushed the attack aside with her long wicker shield. Just then, however, two more combatants emerged from the door beneath the quarterdeck. Jouko immediately recognized one of them, a bald man with a jagged scar running the length of one arm, as Soller Vark. The other was a dangerous looking woman. Both stepped into the fray. The woman's flashing rapier cut a gash across Jouko's chest!
Zhandlegarrii cried for Rubbumba to look out. Then, instinctively, she sputtered an arcane spell, sending a mystic bolt into the melee. The magic missle struck the woman, and she whipped her head around to glare at the little wizard.
"My beloved, stay back! Stay hidden, dear!" cried Rubbumba. He stepped between his wife and the vicious woman, jabbing his short sword up and into her gut. The woman's eyes flew wide, her rapier clattered uselessly to the deck, and her hands grasped the halfling's bloody blade. She sank to her knees, and then toppled over backwards.
"Ketrana! No!" Vark lashed out at Rubb. The halfling tried to duck under the brute's rapier, but the blade traced a bloody line across Rubb's bald forehead. It was a glancing blow, but the rage smoldering in Vark's eyes promised that the next strike would be lethal.
Meanwhile, Johari struck at the other remaining thug with her open palm. The blow hit the man squarely on the chin, and the mystical flame in her hand seared his upper chest and face. "Ye should have taken the swim when you had the chance, lad. Now I've no course but to crush yer skull," Jouko lamented. He sent his spiked chain whistling in a low arc at the sailor's legs, tripping him to the deck. Snakelike, the chain snapped out again, fulfilling Jouko's grim promise and shattering the thug's face. The man's legs twitched for an instant, and then he lay still.
Mindless of Soller Vark, Zhandle raced to Rubb's side. As she arrived, her face turned pale and she retched violently at Vark's feet. Disgusted, Vark called out an order. "Burn them, Mera! Burn them all! The prisoner, too!"
One of Rubbumba's eyebrows arched skyward. "Prisoner?"
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The half-orc cleric Gauruloc Au'Nast had booked passage on the Darkmaiden's Dance largely by chance. The vessel was sailing out of Port Joli in the Hold of the Sea Princes, bound for an exotic southern port called Sasserine across Jeklea Bay. Surrounded by the sea, vast cliffs, steaming swamps, and jungle, Sasserine sounded like the kind of place where Gauruloc might put his past behind him and start anew. He managed to buy his way onto the ship at the last instant, just before the Darkmaiden's Dance sailed out. During the voyage, most of the crew kept their distance -- not that the laconic half-orc minded. Gauruloc did, however, have some conversations with a disreputable sailor named Jouko. Gauruloc enjoyed listening to the coarse seaman spill yarn after yarn about his home port of Sasserine. If his tales were true, it was a rough city in a savage land, with but a thin veneer of civilization. Sasserine promised to be a place suited to both the human and orc sides of Gauruloc's nature.
The night before arriving in Sasserine, Gauruloc had the most vivid, haunting dream of his life. Disjointed images flashed through his sleeping mind:
An attractive human woman in a long, flowing blue dress and a handsome young man with a short beard stand against a crest featuring swords crossed to form a stylized "V."
Jungles, coastlines, glimpses of strange, exotic creatures -- some small and fast, some lumbering and huge, some winged, some with heavy natural armor, and others with cruel teeth the size of swords.
Most haunting, an enormous, vaguely reptilian creature with a somewhat humanoid form. Two baboon heads sprout from its twin snake-like necks, and its arms end in long tentacles. The tentacles of one arm hold an ebon pearl. The baboon heads cackle for a moment, and then the pearl explodes, engulfing everything in inky blackness.
Gauruloc awoke covered in sweat. He felt a dark power not unlike that which emanated from the caves beneath the Black Ram complex -- the kind of tainted, sentient power he had felt in the presence of Orcus, yet distinctly dissimilar. Gauruloc tried to forget the dream, but he was instantly reminded of it upon arriving in Sasserine. There in the harbor, he spotted a vessel flying under the very crest he had seen in his dreams. The vessel was called the Blue Nixie. Gauruloc felt compelled to investigate. When he approached the ship with questions, he was invited aboard. Before long, however, he was waylaid by a pack of vicious thugs. Gauruloc's sword drank deeply of the blood of two of the men, but their numbers eventually overwhelmed him. Their captain, a brute named Soller Vark, ordered the half-orc caged in the ship's hold. "Keep him alive," he hissed, "for when the Rhagodessa grows hungry. She takes her dinner warm and wriggling." The thugs moved the ship a short distance from the dock, hoping to avoid more questions and prying eyes.
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Terrified that Zhandle was so close to such a dangerous enemy, Rubb attempted a dangerous maneuver. He broke from the melee, drawing Soller Vark's attention. Vark sliced downward with his rapier, but Rubb nimbly sidestepped and made for the stair. Racing across the quarterdeck, he leapt down at Vark, swinging his little sword wildly. Vark parried away the ineffectual attack, and attempted to skewer the halfling while he was in midair. His rapier narrowly missed, and Rubb landed at Vark's feet -- precisely where he had stood prior to his desperate gambit!
Billowing smoke and the sound of shrieking monkeys and parrots welled up from the hold below. An instant later, Jouko, Rubb and Zhandle heard the sound of a terrific crash, followed by a woman's high-pitched scream and a strange, shrill keening. Johari cried out: "No, not the animals!" She turned away from the melee on the main deck and raced for the ship's hold, the magic flame still burning in her hand.
His chain whirling above his head, Jouko grimly measured Soller Vark. "Vark, let's be talkin' about the Lady Vanderboren's purse." Jouku suddenly snapped the chain out, and it wrapped about Vark's rapier. With a flick of his wrist, Jouko snatched the rapier from Vark's hand, and it fell to the deck at the brute's feet. Zhandle, done retching, saw the sword fall nearby. Before Vark could react, she snatched the weapon and darted away.
Vark spat a curse and raised his hands above his head, palms open -- a clear plea for mercy. "Ye have me, now name yer price. Ye can have yer lady's purse."
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Gauruloc awoke to a cry of alarm from above -- "All hand adeck, we've been boarded!" Groggy and weakened, he lifted his head and looked about, all too quickly remembering his dire circumstances. He lay on the hay-strewn floor of a cage barely large enough to accomodate him. A variety of monkeys, parrots and other animals occupied smaller cages. A very large cage nearby was occupied by a monstrous inhabitant -- a horrific spider-like creature roughly the size of a pony. The creature's body was dark brown with yellow stripes, its furred legs long and spindly. The monster's head was horrifically oversized, dominated by immense mandibles that chattered and clacked with obvious hunger. Gauruloc had heard his captors call the beast a "rhagodessa" -- right before they threw him into the cage, keeping him alive to feed the monster when it grew hungry. Gauruloc saw one of his captors nearby, a rough woman called Mera. She looked up the ladder leading to the ship's main deck, considering whether to answer the alarm -- but then, remembering her charge to guard the half-orc, she stood her ground and waited.
Gauruloc rose and grasped the bars of his cage as the sounds of pitched combat filtered down from above. He had no idea what was going on, but he had no plans to end up as food for a caged monster. He silently swore an oath to Corellon Larethian, whom he called Sharp-Ears. Given the chance, he vowed, he would show the elf-god that he was a truly worthy warrior. This time, there would be no capture. Gauruloc would triumph -- or die.
Gauruloc heard a voice he recognized as belonging to Soller Vark call down from above. "Burn them, Mera! Burn them all! The prisoner too!" Mera quickly set to lighting the animal cages with a torch, keeping one wary eye on Gauruloc as she went about the task. The smoke riled the animals, and the monkeys and parrots began shrieking wildly and throwing themselves against their cages. Suddenly, the rhagodessa hurled itself against the walls of its cage, causing the cage to crash to its side and the poorly latched door to fly open! The monster was upon Mera in a heartbeat. The front pair of the monster's ten legs reared up threateningly, their tips flattening into terrible discs studded with dozens of hooked suckers. It grabbed Mera, clutching her in its front legs and rending her body with one bite of its powerful mandibles. The beast shook its massive head, and the lower half of Mera's body took flight, slamming against the bars of Gauruloc's cage. As the monster went about devouring Mera's torso, Gauruloc noticed several keys dangling from Mera's rope belt, just outside his cage!
Gauruloc snatched the keys, and fumbled with them for an instant before finding the lock on the outside of his cage. He turned a key, and the lock was released. He was loose, but the rhagodessa stood between him and freedom. His eyes cast about, looking for his sword and shield. He could not see his own arms, but noticed Mera's thin rapier lying nearby.
At that moment, Johari dropped down into the ship's hold from above, landing crouched with her shield at the ready. The rhagodessa's head whipped around to face her. "Run, you useless cow!" Gauruloc bellowed.
Before Johari could react, the monster sprang at her, seizing her in its pedipalps. It attempted to deliver a crushing bite, but the druidess managed to wedge her shield into its beak. The rhagodessa's mandibles splintered the wicker shield. Johari screamed, but for the moment managed to keep the creature's snapping beak at bay with the mystic flame burning in her palm. Gauruloc knew, however, that she wouldn't last long in the monster's grasp.
Hearing Johari's scream, Jouko caught Rubb's eye. "Keep an eye on Vark, wee one." Jouko then raced away, leaving Rubb to guard the brute. Encouraged by his victories in battle, Rubb waggled his blade at the thug and tried to look menacing. Vark chuckled quietly, waiting for his chance. He would not have to wait long.
Below deck, Gauruloc went on the offensive. "Behold, spider-thing," roared the half-orc. "You are not the most savage creation on this accursed boat!" Gauruloc leapt at the monster, seizing its pedipalps. The rhagodessa struggled mightily, and Gauruloc was unable to maintain a hold on the creature. However, the attack did succeed in causing the monster to drop Johari, and it focused on this new prey. It reared, grappling Gauruloc in its pedipalps. The beast's mandibles snapped shut, squeezing the breath from the half-orc's chest!
Just then Jouko jumped down into the hold from above, landing on the creature's back and holding on as the monster reared up furiously. "Ahoy, mate!" Jouko called breathlessly to Gauruloc as they struggled with the rhagodessa.
On the main deck, Zhandlegarrii stumbled to the open door leading down into the hold, and promptly became violently ill. As she retched out the last of her stomach contents onto the combatants below, she spotted the rhagodessa. "Ack! Bug!" she shrieked. In her panic, she threw Vark's rapier at the beast. The blade clattered harmlessly to the bottom of the ladder. Zhandle jumped up and down, screaming incoherently, "Bugbugbugbugbugbugbiguglybug!"
Soller Vark took the opportunity to break for the side of the ship. Rubb managed to wound him with his sword, but it was not enough to prevent the brute's escape. Vark dove off the Blue Nixie and into the warm waters of the harbor, swimming rapidly toward the dock.
Back in the hold, the beast attempted to finish Gauruloc, but the half-orc grabbed one of its mandibles in each hand and fought against the crushing jaw. He knew he could not hold the monster off much longer. His chest burned, and he was beginning to grow dizzy. Better to die in combat with the monster, he thought, than to become its helpless meal.
Jouko was thrown from the writhing monster's back, but landed cleanly on his feet. In one fluid motion he stepped back from the thrashing bease and launched his spiked chain in an overhead arc. The chain struck home with a meaty crunch, and the monster let out a keening roar of pain.
Rubbumba's voice called down from above. "Johari! Save yourself ... take my hand!" The druidess looked up to see the halfling, lying prone at the top of the ladder and stretching his arm as far down into the hold as he could reach. Johari looked up at Rubb just long enough for him to see the grim determination in her eyes. Without response, she thrust herself back into the fray, striking the creature with her flaming fist and causing another monstrous cry.
Gauruloc seized the opportunity, forcing the beast's mandibles apart with all his might. Then, before the jaw could snap shut, he ripped away from the rhagodessa's pedipalps, the tiny hooks and suckers that the beast used to clutch its prey tearing at his flesh. Gauruloc stepped back, screaming, "My SWORD! WHERE IS MY BLASTED SWORD?!!?"
Zhandle attempted to overcome her initial panic at the sight of the horrible bug-thing. Her breath coming in hitches, she finally spat out the words to an arcane spell. The attempt to daze the monster failed, however, and Zhandle nearly swooned with terror.
The rhagodessa once again grasped Johari in its clutches. This time, she had no shield to hold off its slavering mandibles. Its jaw snapped shut, rending flesh, crunching bone. The druidess fell limp in the monster's grasp.
Jouko stepped backward, swinging his chain overhead in slow circles. With startling quickness, the chain lashed out at the spiders head. Unfortunately, the attack glanced harmlessly off its tough carapace. Meanwhile, Rubb attempted to go to Johari's aid, flipping himself dramatically down into the hold. He failed to completely tuck one of his legs, however, and clipped the ladder on the way down. He landed prone on the floor -- beneath the monster's deadly maw!
"Sharp-Ears," Gauruloc grumbled, "heal my wounds." Divine energy coursed through Gauruloc's veins, mending cracked ribs and filling his lungs with air. Cursing, he grabbed up Mera's rapier. "The dead waif's toothpick will have to do."
Zhandle, fighting off another bout of nausea, choked out a spell, pelting the rhagodessa with a ray of frost. It wasn't enough to distract the beast -- the rhagodessa seized Rubb in its pedipalps and pulled him towards its waiting mandibles. The creature then bit poor Rubb, shaking him like a ragdoll and hurling him away, unconscious.
Gauruloc charged recklessly at the monster, but unaccustomed to such a flimsy, contemptible weapon as Mera's rapier, his attack failed. Zhandle, horrified and enraged by Rubb's grievous wound, pelted the beast with another ray of frost, freezing the lowest segment of one of its spindly legs. The leg then broke off at the joint. Undeterred, the monster attempted to grapple Gauruloc once more, but the half-orc was able to fight off its bristling pedipalps.
Jouko shifted to his right and sent his chain whirling at the spider in a vicious downward arc. The chain wrapped about the rhagodessa's neck. Jouko pulled with all his might, snapping the beast's neck. The monster's oversized head hovered near Gauruloc for an instant before crashing to the deck with a gruesome crunch. The rest of its body collapsed an instant later, as if an afterthought.
Gauruloc quickly surveyed the carnage. It was apparent that the broken and bloodied druid was beyond even Sharp-Ears' aid. The half-orc immediately turned his attention to the wounded halfling. "Sharp-Ears, I demand that you fill this little one with vigor!" Again divine energy coursed through Gauruloc's mighty limbs, and he laid his hand upon Rubbumba. Color returned to the halfling almost instantly, and his condition began to stabilize. After a moment he blinked his eyes and looked about.
"Rubb!" Zhandle cried, throwing her arms around her husband. In her nauseous, trembling, asthmatic state, it had taken her a long moment to climb down the vomit and ichor encrusted ladder. Rubbumba looked over Zhandle's shoulder, down at the corpse of the monster on the floor.
"I -- I did it! I killed it!" He puffed out his chest for an instant, but his bravado vanished when he saw Johari's shattered body next to the rhagodessa. As if by unspoken agreement, Rubb, Zhandle and Jouko spent a long, quiet moment staring at their vanquished companion. Gauruloc finally broke the silence.
"Did any of you see a sword?" he grumbled, tossing down Mera's rapier with disdain. "A real sword?"
SCION OF ORCUS: A SAVAGE INTERLUDE
Already a member of a savage, brutal people, Gaulish descended into depravity that even other orcs shunned. Reared to replace her mother as Medicine Woman for her tribe, she found her submissive roll in the orcish hierarchy far too restrictive to suit her ambitions. Still, loud and restive priests were not tolerated in a culture that barely counted itself as religious. She likely would have lived a life of quiet desperation, resigned to her role in the tribe. Fate, however, had different plans for her.
Change came in the form of a human raiding party that attacked her tribe's cavern complex. They were stopped after being trapped in the antechamber of the tribe's shrine to Gruumsh, where she lived. Only one of the humans, some form of magic-user, was captured alive. The tribe had lost dozens of its warriors to the humans, and it was infuriated. The High Shaman placated the bloodlust the best way he could -- the remaining interloper would be slowly and tortuously sacrificed to Gruumsh during the next Festival of the Eye, two moons hence. The tribe set about recovering from its Pyrrhic victory.
As chief acolyte, Gaulish was to tend to the captive until the sacrifice. She was to make sure he did not die, and she was to remind him daily of his ultimate and gruesome fate. But her conduct did not follow orcish scripture. His abilities, which she had witnessed first hand in the courtyard as he vainly fought off her tribemates, intrigued her and rekindled her long-repressed ambition. Her daily scoldings quickly turned into interrogations.
The captured sorcerer, for his part, quickly realized that this orc priestess could only be a divine gift of fate. He had always used his natural charm to manipulate those around him. Such an alien, savage creature posed a massive challenge -- especially given the urgency of the situation -- but he set about seducing her nonetheless. The interrogations quickly became conversations, and conversation turned into sermonizing about the divinity he followed faithfully and the artifact he sought that would justify the righteousness of his cause. Finally, mere days before he was to be slaughtered, he had converted Gaulish over to his cause. She was no longer his captor -- she was his disciple and lover. They set about freeing him and showing her tribe the true way forward.
He imparted to Gaulish his final secret -- the reason why her tribe had been so drawn to the caverns they now called home. Below the lowest levels of their home there was another, far older and forgotten complex dedicated to his god. Together they murdered the guards blocking their path as they descended deeper into the tunnels below the orcish complex than any orc had ever dared go.
The Festival of the Eye that year was the last one ever celebrated by the orcs of that tribe. Those old enough to remember could only recollect brief, bloody images...
... Of the entire tribe crying in shock and disbelief as the rotting corpses of their dead flooded into the temple complex.
... Of the High Shaman and the Warlord being ripped limb from limb by the silent, shambling horde.
... Of Gaulish striding triumphantly into the antechamber, followed by the now-freed human captive and holding aloft an obsidian goat skull and proclaiming that justice had finally returned to the tribe, that the sins and heretical crimes of the leaders had finally been avenged, and that the true way forward had been revealed to her by the true patron of the tribe, Orcus the goat lord.
... Of Gaulish laughing hysterically as the rotted army slaughtered any of the tribe that dared raise their voice in protest, including her own mother.
Fully a third of the tribe had been purged by the end of that long, blood-soaked day. Any orc that protested was killed, along with his mate, his children and his parents. Whole bloodlines were expunged as any strong-willed objector or potential rival of the new regime was eliminated. All who were left mutely bowed in disbelief and gut-clenching fear. The demented and blasphemous history of the Black Ram tribe began that day.
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Gauruloc was born later that year to the new high priestess and her human consort. Like Gaulish, he was raised to be the high priest that would take her place. He was steeped in the profane and horrific traditions of a demon prince, and he was considered blessed to be the offspring of a prophet to his tribe and his race. But in a strange and ironic way, Gauruloc was too much like his mother. He was unsatisfied too.
Gauruloc didn't desire more power -- he had all the power in the tribe, truthfully. No, Gauruloc felt unfulfilled, but he couldn't quite understand why. The profane rituals he committed to memory felt oddly disturbing, as if they were at odds with his nature as an orc (well, half an orc, though he was far too important and revered to be thought of that way by the tribe). That's not to say that Gauruloc felt any sort of yearning for compassion or decency- he was as savage and pitiless as any orc warrior in his tribe. In fact, the best explanation that he could muster was that the ferocity and brutality inherent in his soul clashed with the calculating, sinister corruption that was Orcus. Like his mother, though, Gauruloc buried his conflicted nature and tried to serve his mother as best he could.
Fate this time chose an almost absurd instrument of change. An elf hunting party had been ambushed by Black Ram marauders, and the lone survivor, a female elf hunter, had been brought back to the temple of Orcus to be sacrificed to the demonlord six days hence. Gauruloc, the first full priest of Orcus to be ordinated since the tribe's conversion, was given the honor of sacrificing her by his mother. He was to oversee her torture and ultimate demise as his final rite of passage into the new priesthood.
Even as the elf was brought into Gauruloc's chambers that first night he could barely contain his rage and indignation. Once the Temple Guard left them alone he unleashed his fury upon the elf in a verbal tirade. If it was up to him, he informed her in barely coherent orcish, he would have left her bloodied corpse upon the battlefield as testament to the power of the orc. Instead, he was about to be forced into a ritual he found profoundly cowardly, pointless and disturbing. His diatribe went on for hours, until his broken, hoarse throat could barely muster another syllable.
The stunned elf replied in turn, her insults and savage indignation building as she found her bravery. Gauruloc was left stunned and disheartened. This was a worthy enemy, one who deserved to be slaughtered, not forced to become a sacrifice to his demented god. The idea of torturing her left him almost nauseous. The elf realized that this orc was at least different from the dark, profane monsters that had butchered her party in a veritable orgy. Here at least was an honest savage. Argument followed tirade. Debate followed argument. Finally, conversation followed debate. Three days later, Gauruloc had been taught about elven culture, custom and faith, and he had nothing he could reply with that did not shame him. His inner conflict exploded into his mind and for the first time he faced the realization that he had been raised to follow an unnatural faith, a belief at odds with anything that could be considered intuitive.
Gauruloc made the first decision he ever felt proud about -- this elf would not be slaughtered as a sacrifice to his twisted patron. Neither would he let his demented mother bring her back as some sort of blasphemous rotting soldier. He tricked and ambushed the temple guards watching his room and freed the elf. They killed another half-dozen orcs during their flight. Gauruloc's heart sang with joy. Here was an orc's true call- slaughter with purpose, savagery as expression of his true self. The pair fled into the woods where they faced their last obstacle -- a half-dozen Black Ram skirmishers confused that their chosen prophet was helping their one truest enemy and chosen gift to Orcus escape. The combat was short, bloody and fierce. At the end, Gauruloc stood over the dead bodies of his kin and the corpse of the elf, who had died with the faintest trace of a smile on her lips. He realized then his new path in life. Orcus was a monster, a blot upon nature that deserved nothing from his people or any other. But Gruumsh had failed, too. If the High Shaman had followed his nature rather than Gruumsh's will, the human blasphemer would never have had the chance to corrupt his tribe. Who could he follow? He bent down, snapped the cord holding the wooden holy symbol of the elf's chosen god, Corellon Larethian, and tied it around his neck. Here was a god that had stayed true to the nature of his followers. Larethian might be a contemptible elf god, but at least he wasn't a hypocrite or a self-serving boor. From now on he would be named Gauruloc Au'Nast, the reborn one.
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The elven sentries were stunned by the appearance of an orc wearing the holy symbol of their highest god and claiming an elvish surname, however strangely translated it was. They were even more bewildered when his healing prayers to Corellon were answered as proof of his intent. They listened mutely as he detailed the location of the demon-worshipping orc tribe that they had been at war with for the past four years. They could only stare dumbfounded as he walked back into the woods and vanished forever from their realm.
One week later a massive elven assault forever silenced the debauchery of the Black Ram orc tribe. The elven general, at first nearly terrified that he was walking into a trap, could only thank Corellon silently as his warriors utilized secret passages described by the sentries who had talked to the wandering orc to catch the orcish tribe in a near-perfect trap. What would have been a desperate battle turned into a one-sided slaughter. He had personally dispatched the high priestess, felling her as she chanted hysterically to whatever dark lord she followed. No one encountered the bearded human the orc traitor had described, though, and the obsidian artifact the orc had asked the elves to shatter was either gone or had never been there. At twilight the elven clerics blessed the blasphemous altar, causing it to disintegrate into a thousand tiny shards, and the magi used their magic to collapse the entire complex, forever sealing it to the world.
THE NIXIE RECLAIMED
As much as the timid halfling in Rubbumba wanted to cry and give up after seeing his friend Johari -- though their acquaintance was brief -- so brutally slain, he understood that this was neither the time nor the place for an emotional breakdown. Besides, Zhandle might see him, and he felt compelled to maintain a brave facade. After making sure that his wife was perfectly safe, Rubb ventured back upstairs and took the time to carefully explore the ship's cabins. He was looking for the purse that they had come for in the first place -- before things took a turn for the worst. A search of the various cabins in the ship uncovered a large trunk in the captain's quarters, within which Rubb found a leather pouch containing 100 platinum pieces -- the Lady Vanderboren's missing payment to the harbormaster, no doubt.
Meanwhile in the hold, Jouko grinned at Gauruloc across the gruesome corpse of the rhagodessa. Jouko knew the half-orc from his recent voyage on the merchant caravel, the Darkmaiden's Dance, out of Port Joli. "Tis a fine greeting to be sure. But next time, 'ahoy' will do, mate."
Gauruloc barely heard him. The half-orc was hunting through the ship's hold, absently cursing the "civilized" races for wasting perfectly good steel on weapons not fit to clean his teeth. Gauruloc didn't have to look far. He spotted his own weapons and shield in the crew quarters. With a satisfied (and relieved) grunt, Gauruloc slung his shield on to his back, and sheathed his proper sword.
"So what were you and the little snacklings doing on board this ship, human?" the half-orc asked Jouko as he strode over to the druid's carcass to see what he might salvage for future use.
Rubb, having returned to the rest of the party jingling Lady Vanderboren's purse in front of himself triumphantly, started to object to being referred to as a "snackling." However, a second look at Gauruloc in all his fully armed, menacing glory prompted the halfling to bite his tongue. Instead, Rubb shook the sack containing Lavinia's platinum in the half-orc's direction. "The scoundrel who dove over the edge of the ship was a dishonest businessman. A thug, and a thief. We came here to take back something that didn't rightfully belong to him."
Gauruloc reared his head high and belted out a hoot of laughter. "'Rightfully?' You worry too much about nothing, morsel. The pig's stomach that held that payment and bound me to be breakfast for that ten-legs was its 'rightful' owner. You threw him to the sharks and now you are its 'rightful' owner. Propriety and 'right' are a luxury of the powerful who can play such games. In my mother's tribe, such blathering would have gotten you eaten after a good, hearty laugh. Enjoy your swag, little one, and sleep well knowing that you earned it by the right of your tiny fists."
Gauruloc turned back to Johari's corpse. The druid traveled light, her possessions amounting to little more than a hide bikini, a (mostly crushed) wicker shield, a scimitar, a sling and 20 bullets, 2 scrolls of cure light wounds, a leather necklace strung with fearsome looking teeth, and a small pouch with 4 silver pieces.
Gauruloc considered the loot. "These word-spells are useful to me. And what of this necklace? Is this ensorceled, Sharp-Ears?" The half-orc cast detect magic, and checked first the necklace, then the rest of Johari's belongings. Other than the scrolls, it appeared the druid's possessions were rather mundane.
Nonetheless, Jouko casually bent over and retrieved the leather necklace from Johari's corpse. "She would have wanted me to have this," he offered as he strung the necklace around his filthy neck. Looking pleased with himself, he eyed the snackl -- er, halfling, Rubbumba. "Right, now about the Lady Lavinia's purse...."
Rubb looked sideways at Jouko and tucked the purse into one of his many pouches, tying it tight. "The lady's money goes back where it belongs... to the lady," he said, with a barely disguised accusatory tone in his voice.
Meanwhile, Zhandle stood in a corner, teetering back and forth with a hand over her mouth, waging a losing battle against her gag reflex. After emptying everything that was in her stomach earlier, her body now registered its distaste for the casual looting of a slain ally with a painful bout of dry heaves. Zhandle began to fixate obsessively on the rocking and swaying of the ship. Moving, always moving and rocking and swaying. Exasperated and exhausted she screamed out hysterically, "DOes thE MOTion EVer stOP!"
Then, as if the violent outburst had unearthed a buried memory, Zhandle blurted, "Ring." Then, more emphatically, "RING!" Much of her hair had fallen from it's usual neat bun, stray chunks of vomit coated her cheek and sleeves, and her left eye was weirdly twitching. Between her appearance and sudden wailing, Zhandle seemed more banshee than halfling. "NEed tO FInd tHE RIng foR VAulT! THen cAN WE get OFF thIS ROckiNG NIghtmARE!"
Having spoken her mind, Zhandle cautiously formed a small grin. The grin expanded across suddenly ballooning cheeks, however, and when it seemed her face could grow no larger, the smile exploded in a fresh surge of discharge. It seemed her stomach had not yet disgorged all of its cheesy contents, after all.
Rubb smiled at Zhan and moved to kiss her on the cheek. Spotting a chunk of something from last night's dinner, however, he decided a pat on the back of the head was more appropriate. "You are right, my loveling. I was so excited about the money, I had forgotten all about the ring. Oh my ... I hope it didn't end up as shark bait, too! I will take a second look around. If it is here, I will find it." Rubb glared at Gauruloc. "And I will return it to it's RIGHTFUL owner."
Back in the captain's quarters, in a secret panel in the headboard of the captain's bunk, Rubbumba found Lavinia's father's signet ring. A scrap of rolled up parchment was threaded through the ring. Written on it was a strange list of monsters -- chimera, cyclops, medusa, umber hulk, basilisk -- with the word 'sunrise' or 'sunset' appearing after the name of each exotic creature. Rubb tucked the ring into his deepest of pockets for safekeeping. Although he would share his find with Zhandle later, he did not reveal the ring to either Jouko or the half-orc -- he did not entirely trust either of them.
The adrenaline of the morning's events beginning to fade, and the realization that achieving their goal cost the life of a companion starting to sink in, Rubbumba turned his attention to his wife. As exciting and horrifying as this adventure had been for him, he had not yet stopped to consider how completely traumatic it must have been for poor Zhandle. Putting an arm around her shoulder, he looked to Jouko in a pleading manner. "Please, pirate. Let us be done with this accursed ship. Let's get this money back to Lady Lavinia, collect our reward, and seek some peaceful respite." He stood staring at Jouko as if for guidance, stealing uneasy glances at the half-orc. Rubb was still not quite sure what to make of this crude, and frightening addition to the party.
Jouko's eyes lit up at the mention of reward money. "Yes indeed wee one, lets be seeing the lady of the manor 'bout our payment." Jouko slid up beside Rubb and placed his arm upon his shoulder.
Gauruloc had not found the answers he sought aboard the Blue Nixie. However, this talk of a Lady, the rightful owner of the boat, was intriguing. If the boat belonged to her, then so must the crest that flew above it. If his dream was any indication, Sharp-Ears wanted him to meet this Lady, though for what purpose he could not yet fathom. While the others went about securing the dinghy Zhandle and Johari had piloted out to the Nixie little more than an hour ago, Gauruloc emerged from the hold of the ship carrying the rapiers that had belonged to Vark and Mera, and Johari's scrolls and pouch.
"I come with you, snacklings. I wish to meet this employer of yours for my own reasons." He noticed the other corpses about, and began to search them. "Those who leave enough for the vultures are usually the vultures' next meal."
Rubb, Zhandle and Jouko had already boarded the dinghy by the time Gauruloc finished his looting and looked down at them from the Blue Nixie. "Watch your delicious little heads, morsels," he snickered as he began to toss suits of leather armor, crossbows and bucklers over the side of the Nixie and into the rowboat. Gauruloc then clambered down a rope to the dinghy, making no effort to conceal a single pirate's purse he confiscated from one of the carcasses that was now bulging with coin, or the sheathed masterwork rapier that had once been Soller Vark's. "This haul should fetch some good coin. Now, how do these water-wagons move?"
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The party made it safely back to Vanderboren Manor, which Gauruloc found to be disturbingly familiar. Not surprisingly, Gauruloc recognized Lady Vanderboren as well.
For her part, Lavinia was extremely grateful that the party managed to reclaim the Blue Nixie and her purse, and even more so that they found Verik Vanderboren's signet ring. However, she seemed sincerely saddened by news of Johari's demise. She thanked Gauruloc for his role in reclaiming the Nixie. The topic of exactly how Gauruloc came to be captured by Soller Vark and his thugs never came up. The half-orc had not decided how to address the matter of his bizarre dream, and thought it best to observe the situation and not rock the boat -- not just yet, anyway.
"As promised, I'll pay each of you 200 gold once I've access to my vault. Gauruloc, it is only fair that you should receive Johari's share. Meanwhile, I have another proposal for you. I'm so pleased with your work thus far that I would like to hire you on as my personal troubleshooters, agents and bodyguards. I can only offer you 100 gp per month to remain in my employ. However, your service to one of Sasserine's noble families could have advantages and rewards beyond your monthly wage.
"I already have a task in mind for you. I need to travel to Castle Teraknian to check my family vault. All of Sasserine's nobility have vaults under the castle, but I've never seen any of them -- including the family vault. Rumors hold that some family vaults are quite extensive and guarded by traps. Based on things I overheard my father say through the years, I suspect that the Vanderboren vault is relatively small and safe, but there may be a construct guardian. I would like you to accompany me to Castle Teraknian to provide protection and aid in investigating the vault contents."
Jouko's eyes gleamed with the mention of payment, though he seemed generally disinterested in remaining in the rest of Lady Vanderboren's speech as he wandered around the room, ogling everything of worth. At Lavinia's mention of the vaults beneath Castle Teraknian, however, he spun on his heel. "But of course we be pleased to help ye, m'lady. I am yer humble servant here to aid ye in this troubling time," he said with a gold-toothed grin.
Zhandle slumped onto Rubb's shoulder and tugged on his shirt sleeve, whispering with sour breath. "I need to freshen up and rest first before going anywhere. I feel so drained and sticky. I just hate it when I'm sticky!"
"It is settled, then," said Lavinia. "Take the remainder of the day to rest and tend to your personal affairs. I will see you all here tomorrow morning."
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Rubbumba and Zhandlegarrii returned to their small apartment behind the Alchemy Guild Hall. After a day spent washing, resting and washing some more, Zhan finally felt halfling again. She straightened her skirt and gently pressed her hair to stay in place, and headed derterminedly out the door. She knew exactly what she was looking for, and ticked off a mental check list out loud as she walked through Sasserine's streets. Eventually she arrived at her destination -- the library. She threw open the large wooden double doors and stumbled through, talking to herself distractedly and drawing a number of annoyed glances. After fumbling out appologies, she spent the rest of the afternoon poring over scholarly manuscripts and dusty tomes until at last she found the object of her search. "Ah HA!" She smiled and rubbed her hands lovingly over the small leather bound book. A Dwarf's Guide to Adventuring by Thoersten Coppersmiter, the book's spine proclaimed.
"No doubt I'll find courage in these pages," she declared. "No more shall I suffer the bitter indignities of seasickness, barf, upchuck, spew, hurl and keck in the heat of adventure!" All eyes in the library turned to her, and, cheeks blazing, she borrowed the book and abashedly made her exit.
While Zhandle explored the library, Rubbumba cleaned the battle grime off of his tiny body and sifted through his findings. In all, the little halfling was pleased with his haul. He had managed to harvest several nice bulbs of sweet whitecaps from a sewer tunnel in a previous adventure, very useful in the creation of healing potions and salves. In addition, he snagged a few pale creepers, which always brought in good cash due to their use as a hardening agent in crafting masterwork armor. Whistling a happy tune, Rubb marched down to the alchemy shop to reap his profits.
Shortly after Rubb returned to the apartment, his coin purse a bit fatter, Zhandle burst through the door, panting and proudly brandishing a book entitled A Dwarf's Guide to Adventuring. "Lookie! I am going to be a seasoned adventurer in no time!" Full of ambition, she quickly thumbed through a few pages, a smile spreading across her face. "Rubb, we need to go shopping! I think I need to buy some ale. Can Lightning carry gallon jugs? Hmm, maybe a flask will do for the present...." She babbled on more to herself than to Rubb as she handed him his wee coat and pushed him out the door.
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That night, Jouko boldy strolled into the Speared Fish tavern and looked around happily. Eyeing a table rimmed with drunken sailors, he bellowed loudly, "By Procan's beard ye be a sorry lot! Belle! Bring us a chair and a mug o'yer worst!" Jouko elbowed his way across the bustling tavern, grabbed a chair and mug from the flustered barmaid, and took a seat with the boistrous sailors.
"What ye bilge rats been in ta?" he asked between gulps of ale. "I ain't seen ye in three moons. 'Twas the Port Joli and that load o'cheese!" he said, pinching his nose. The table erupted into laughter and descended into raucous talk of days gone past. Jouko spent the remainder of the night drinking heavily and chasing bar wenches.
THE VANDERBOREN VAULT
The next morning, Gauruloc, Rubbumba and Zhandlegarrii arrived early at the gates of Vanderboren Manor. Unsurprisingly, Jouko was nowhere to be found. Rubbumba noticed that the half-orc was laden with the bulk of the loot he had stripped from the corpses on the Blue Nixie the previous day. The halfling's eyes flitted between the sack of crossbows Gauruloc held in one hand, the bag of armor and rapiers draped over his shoulder, and the bulging coin purse at his side. Rubbumba was beginning to stew at the thought that the half-orc had profited from all of his bold, stabbity heroics.
Noting the halfling's gaze, Gauruloc grunted. "Morsels," he said, shrugging the huge bag filled with loot from his shoulder. "Allow me to share a tradition the orcs practice as a rite of passage for our younglings. It is called the Grath-Kurg-Nath, the Eating of the Boar's Snout. Once a stripling is old enough, he must accompany a tribal veteran on a boar hunt and bring back the dead boar's head, still raw and dripping blood. Our young think that this is a test of strength and guile, and so they train their spear arm, their senses and their light steps to prepare themselves for this rite.
"But they are mistaken. Any orc can bring down a wild boar -- that part is simple. It is what happens afterwards that is the true test. The elder they accompany will take the boar's head and eat it, making it unfit for the stripling's prize. If the stripling doesn't protest, the elder will eat the rest of the boar and char away the meat, leaving the stripling nothing to eat.
"The next day the pair shall bring down another boar -- it is forbidden that they return without a boar's head -- only this time the elder will be strengthened by his last meal and the stripling will be much more hungry. Again the elder will eat the entire boar unless the stripling protests. The next day he'll do so again, and again the day after that. Each day the stripling will grow more famished and weak, and each day the elder will fill his innards with fresh boar. The cycle continues until the youngster dies or challenges the elder. Those too weak to raise a challenge are culled before they taint the clan with any more of their bloodline."
Gauruloc dropped the sacks of loot on the ground unceremoniously. "I sense that Sharp-Ears will be mildly annoyed if I strip you of a prize that you earned, and so I will share it with you. But remember that many more in this world will be very content to take what you have without a second thought UNLESS YOU RAISE YOUR VOICE." Guaruloc roared the last few words.
"After we finish our employer's labor, let us sell these prizes," he said quietly, walking through the open gate and toward the manor. He cocked his head back towards the halflings. "And next time -- well, Sharp-Ears may only be a little annoyed."
Rubb focused only on the part that was important to him: "Let us sell these prizes," he agreed, rushing through the gate. Rubb puffed out his chest and glanced over his shoulder at Zhandle to make sure she was watching, to witness how brave and manly he was. Turning towards Gauruloc, he declared in his deepest voice, "Ah, it is a good thing that we see eye to eye on this, orc. Or eye to knee, as the case may be. But never mind that. I am not a frightened weakling, as you seem to think. You see, more than one strong halfling had a twinkle in his eye for my dear Zhandlegarrii. She had her choice of suitors, to be sure. But she chose me! Do you know why? Because I was the strongest and the bravest of them all! No, Sir Orc, I am not one to allow my prize pig to be taken from me. I am the one who stuck her, and I am the only one with the right to eat her snout. I'll fight any halfling, man or orc who thinks otherwise!" Turning towards Zhan, he said, "Isn't that right, my little pork chop?"
With her nose buried in A Dwarf's Guide to Adventuring, Zhan was oblivious to most of the conversation between Rubb and the half-orc. She simply nodded and offered the occasional "of course, dear" until her finger stopped at a passage in her book regarding orcs. She looked up from her reading and erupted with snorts and giggles. She whispered none to quietly to Rubb, "Don't *snort* waste your time *giggle* dear -- according to Thoersten Coppersmiter, orcs are stupid!"
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Kora Whistlegap ushered Gauruloc, Rubb and Zhandle into the dining hall, where Lavinia Vanderboren awaited them. Seated at the table with her was a young adult elf with blonde hair, grey eyes and light skin. The elf was outfitted with a fine looking longbow, as well as sword, flail, and mail shirt.
Lavinia stood. "Greetings. This is Verys. Verys, meet Rubbumba, Zhandlegarri, and Gauruloc. It appears Jouko is late -- not an entirely unexpected development. We may as well get started without him. The death of Johari made me realize that working for the Vanderboren family presents certain unique risks. I thought it wise to bring on some additional help, and Verys came highly recommended. As my retainers, you'll be working together."
Verys nodded slightly without expression. "The pleasure is mine."
Rubbumba strutted up to to the elf and extended a tiny hand in greeting. "I am Rubbumba, more recently known as Rubb the Rumbler. This is my darling wife, Zhandlegarrii." Verys clasped Rubb's hand firmly just as a clatter and the sound of loud, off-key singing arose out in the atrium. Recognizing the voice, Rubbumba sighed.
Jouko swaggered into the room, still singing drunkenly:
Oh now I'm old and can scarcely crawl
I've a long grey beard and a head that's bald
Crown my desire, fufill my bliss
A pretty girl and a jug of this.
And when I'm in my grave and dead
And all my sorrows are past and fled
Transform me then into a fish
And let me swim in a jug of this.
Jouko bowed dramatically at the end of his performance, and looked up to find all eyes upon him. "Morn ta ya, m'lady!"
Zhandlegarrii, seemingly oblivious to Jouko's entrance, nudged Rubb and flicked her head in Verys' direction. "Thoersten was right about elves. They really do wear their breeches too tight!"
"Good morning to you as well, Jouko. Now, if we may return to the business at hand...."
"Indeed, Lady," said Rubb, attempting to change the subject before Zhandle could say anything indelicate about the elf's pants or their contents. "You promised us a castle! Zhan and I are most excited, I must say. We've never been to a real castle!"
"Very well, then. I've hired a coach to take us to Castle Teraknian. It should be arriving any moment."
"Shplendid," slurred Jouko, envisioning the gold and jewel bloated coffers of Castle Teraknian's vaults in his mind's eye.
Soon the party was coach-bound for High Market in the Noble District. From there, they took a ferry over to Castle Teraknian. Castle Teraknian was not in any of Sasserine's seven districts, and yet it belonged to all of them. Below the castle were the King's Crypts -- burial chambers for the Teraknian Line. This area had been closed off; the only portion of the castle basement still in use was the Noble's Vault, a place for Sasserine's nobility to store valuables away from their personal estates.
The party spent little time in the castle itself, stopping only to speak to a clerk who verified Lavinia's identity and her signet, and who then escorted them down a spiral staircase into a large circular chamber under the castle. Over a dozen five-foot-wide hallways radiated out from the central vault chamber; each of these halls was ten feet long and ended at a single iron door -- the entrance to a family vault.
While Rubb stared in awe at the surroundings, Zhandle nudged Verys, and asked rather directly, "I must know, how DOES your kind reproduce in such tight attire?" Without missing a beat, Verys solemnly responded, "It's an aqcuired skill, milady." Zhandle began to scrawl a note into the margins of her book. "Acquired skill," she muttered beneath her breath as she wrote.
Alarmed, Rubbumba took his eyes away from the splendors of the Noble's Vault and interrupted. "You must excuse my wife. She has taken to reading an adventuring book written by a dwarf. As a result, she was tipping the ale jug a bit early this morning."
Jouko blinked, seeming to just notice the elf for the first time. "Ahoy mate, ye be joining our merry band then, eh?"
"So it would seem. Pleasure to meet you."
Once again finding the need to divert attention from the elf and his breeches, Rubb loudly asked Lavinia, "So, which one of these hallways is your hallway?"
The clerk indicated the appropriate passage, though he did not accompany them farther; he simply bid them good day and headed off for his office in the castle above.
Lavinia walked down the short passageway tentatively. It ended at a solid-looking iron door. The portal was emblazoned with a simple rune -- an eight-pointed star. Rubb recognized the star symbol from the sign of a building on the western edge of the Merchant's District. Above the door, inscribed in flowing script on a polished silver plaque, was the name "Vanderboren." A single handle protruded from the door, just below a circular depression bearing the mark of the Vanderboren signet.
Lavinia hesitantly inserted her father's signet ring into the small depression above the door handle. The door flashed once with a blue light, then slowly swung open on creaking hinges. Lavinia stood aside and gestured to the party. "After you."
Rubbumba plunged ahead excitedly. Verys strolled through calmly behind him, followed by Jouko, Gauruloc, and Zhandle, who finally removed her nose from her book and stowed it in her pack. The floor of the domed chamber was of polished green marble. Two fifteen-foot wide alcoves had lower ceilings and featured marble pillars carved to resemble coiling snakes. In the center of the room, five similar pillars were embedded into the walls, rising up thirty feet to a dome overhead. Looking up, the dome bore a huge representation of the same eight-pointed star that was engraved on the door to the south. "Wow," gasped Zhandle. She pulled out her flask of ale. According to Thoersten Coppersmiter's teachings, it was always good to take a swig of ale before the dung hit the wagon wheels.
Verys fluently pulled out his bow. Jouko flashed a golden grin at the elf, and whispered, "Easy, mate." Rubbumba scampered off to search the eastern alcove. Without warning, a three foot long construct, looking like a cobra made of dozens of circular iron bands fitted together to form a snakelike body, slithered out from hiding behind a pillar and struck! Rubb managed to come to a complete halt in mid-stride, narrowly dodging the construct's lethal looking fangs. Startled, the halfling drew his blade and desparately slashed at the creature. The little sword clanged harmlessly off the construct's metallic hide.
Gauruloc howled a challenge as he drew his sword and attacked, sending sparks up from the serpent's iron skin. Verys sighed as the orc lumbered into his line of sight, but let fly his arrow when a narrow opening in the melee appeared. At that moment the half-orc sidestepped, and Verys' arrow glanced harmlessly off Gauruloc's shield. Realizing that his arrows would be largely ineffective in the tight melee, Verys grasped his flail and stepped into the throng.
Jouko roared. "Mind ye don't spill that dwarven ale, wee lass, I'll be back for a swig." The sailor pulled his spiked chain from around his neck and scampered around the pillar. Rounding the pillar, he lashed out at the construct. The chain struck home with a chink, and seemed to get the construct's attention -- barely.
Heedless of Jouko's warning, Zhandle gasped and dropped her flask. She hastily cast a spell, creating an invisible but tangible protective field of force around Rubb. Rubb, Gauruloc, Verys and Jouko continued to rain blows down on the serpent, but they did little damage to its nigh impenetrable hide. Zhandle did manage to do some harm to the construct, peering between Gauruloc's legs and firing off a blast of arcane energy. Even that attack did not seem to slow the serpent. The serpent continued to attack, though Gauruloc's shield and Jouko's whirling chain had parried away its strikes thus far.
Realizing that the serpent's fangs would eventually find their target, and frustrated that his chain left nary a scratch on its hide, Jouko snarled, "Have you no control over this iron pet of yours, m'lady?"
Lavinia had been standing frozen near the entrance of the room, helplessly watching the combat. "Perhaps the sailor is right. Maybe the Vanderborens do hold some power over this thing...." She strode resolutely forth, brandishing her father's signet ring before her. "I command you be still, construct!" The iron cobra immediately became docile, lowering its hooded head and slinking away into the shadows.
Rubbumba sighed. "And Jouko saves the day with a smartass pirate comment?"
Zhandlegarrii echoed the sentiment. "Are you serious?!" She looked furious. "My poor Rubb was fighting for his life, and you could have stopped that thing at any ti...."
Zhandle's tirade was cut off as Jouko discreetly nudged her with his knee. He pressed his forefinger to his lips, and nodded his head towards the flask on the floor. "Now, about that drink, lass."
Shaken, but relieved, Lavinia said, "Forgive me. I did not know the beast would respond to my command."
Retrieving his arrow, Verys offered his encouragement. "Better late than never, my lady."
Scowling, Rubbumba completed his search of the room. He soon noticed that the snake patterns on the northernmost pillar recessed into the chamber's walls were different than the snake patterns on the other pillars. Rubb scratched his glabrous pate. "Hmm. Snakes. Medusae? Basilisks, perhaps? What do the snake patterns mean...?" He pulled out the mysterious parchment he found on the Blue Nixie and handed it to Lavinia. "Does this mean anything to you?"
"It's my father's handwriting. But I have no idea what it might mean."
Rubbumba focused his attention on the unusual pillar. This time, he found a cleverly hidden switch. Without pausing to consider potential complications, he triggered the switch. The snake designs on the pillar animated, writhing aside like living creatures, forming a coiling archway that opened into a previously hidden room.
"Impressive, snackling," grumbled Gauruloc.
The new room was octagonal, supported by a single large pillar with dozens of deep grooves along its sides. The seven walls of the room each bore fantastically detailed bas-relief carvings of exotic monsters in threatening poses. Starting at the wall immediately to the west of the entrance to the room and moving clockwise, the carvings depicted a tentacled monster with a glaring red eye and a mouth full of teeth, a looming red dragon, a fish-like creature with three eyes and four tentacles, a two-headed giant wielding a pair of immense clubs, a spherical creature with four eyestalks and a bulging central eye over a drooling maw, a gorilla-like beast with a fanged maw and six eyes, and finally a towering black spider with seven eyes. Each monster's eyes consisted of a glittering red stones. The ceiling above was only ten feet high, with the now-familiar eight-pointed star pattern radiating out from the grooved pillar. The arms of this star were black, save for the one pointing south toward the entrance, which was red.
Verys seemed almost entranced by the dragon carving. Jouko whistled long and low. "Don't that be forbodin'." Then, noting a distinct lack of booty, "Umm, m'lady...where be the treasure?"
"I -- I don't know. I don't understand this...."
"A menagerie of the damned, and not a single one from our little clue," said Gauruloc. Verys frowned with concern, still eyeing the dragon as if it might come to life at any moment.
Irked, Jouko said, "Well, we done our part, ye seen yer vault -- empty as it be."
"Wait," said Lavinia, "there must be something here. This must be some sort of puzzle."
Having learned from past experience, Rubbumba inspected the central pillar closely. He found that the grooved pillar in the room's center could be rotated in either direction. It did not rotate smoothly -- rather, it "clicked" in its socket as it rotated. As the pillar rotated, the eight-pointed star in the ceiling rotated as well, the red arm pointing to a new wall with each click.
"Lady Lavinia, what make you of this?" asked Verys.
"I'm sorry, I'm as bewildered as you. It makes no sense."
"Should we risk a random click?" asked Verys.
Gauruloc frowned thoughtfully. "Perhaps. Align the star east first."
Rubb shrugged his little shoulders. "What have we got to lose?" He turned the pillar one click to the left.
Gauruloc growled. "No, align the star's arm with the proper wall, you insufferable maggotspawn."
Jouko suddenly beamed as if light had dawned on his begrimed face. "Ah, the half-orc is onto something. Sunrise, sunset -- east, west sounds to me!"
"Aye, the rumhound has it," confirmed Gauruloc.
Jouko clapped the half-orc chummily on the shoulder. "What say ye mate, let's spin this here capstan!" Jouko gave the pillar a turn to the right. Nothing happened. Jouko's shoulders slumped.
"Keep turning. Each monster on the parchment has a different number of eyes, as do the beasts on these walls. Align the pillar according to the eyes of the creatures on the parchment," said Gauruloc.
As the others worked at the puzzle, Rubb whispered to Zhandle. "What was that you said about dumb orcs, dear? Who wrote that book of yours, anyway?"
Zhandle hiccupped. "A dw--dwarf. A buh-brilliant, muh-masculine, duh-dwarf." Rubb noticed for the first time that Zhandle had been steadily sipping ale from her flask. It appeared she had been sharing with her pet toad, as well. She had taken it from one of her pouches, and it now drooped feebly on her shoulder.
"Um, Zhan, are you sure that stuff is safe for frogs?" As if in response, the toad let out an improbably long and loud belch. "Or haflings, for that matter?" The couple was interrupted as the others completed the combination, and the entire room began to rumble. The five alcoves rotated in place, revealing a number of coffers and chests.
Most of the 20 chests in the vault were empty, a meager total of 36 silver coins remaining in the first 16 chests searched. As more and more chests turned up virtually empty, Lavinia grew increasingly distraught. Finally, in the last alcove, there was a reprieve -- several of the chests there remained untouched. In all, there was 2,900 gp in coins and gems left in these chests, along with a large number of ledgers and a small iron coffer containing a thick pile of documents. Most of the ledgers listed debts owed to the Vanderborens from guilds and noble families in Sasserine -- it seemed that Lavinia's parents made a practice of doing dangerous favors for numerous organizations in Sasserine, yet rarely bothered to collect rewards. Instead, they allowed their patrons to keep the rewards with the understanding that they could collect at any time.
"It appears your forbears were not very penny-wise, woman," Gauruloc bluntly observed. Jouko picked up a large gem and held it up to the light, eyeing it closely. Lavinia frowned, somewhat distraught. The documents in the iron coffer were written in Lavinia's mother's handwriting, but in a strange language Lavinia did not recognize, although she and Verys recognized the letters as being elven. Included in the documents were several maps of jungles, coastlines, and other regions that seemed to represent some unknown tropical location. The documents also included dozens of sketches of strange, exotic creatures.
"Between the gold here and the debts owed my family, I should now have more than enough to pay the back taxes and begin setting my estate back in order. Nevertheless, the empty chests here concern me greatly. It shall be a rough year, especially if my aunt and uncle in Cauldron can't help out in the months to come. But at least I now have enough to carry on." Lavinia paid Rubbumba, Zhandle, Jouko and Gauruloc 200 gold coins each, as she had promised.
Jouko smiled broadly. "Seems ye may be in need of further help, m'lady. We'll glady serve yer needs." Jouko puncuated his statment by pointing at the rest of the party, the large gem still in his hand.
"Thank you, Jouko, I appreciate that. And I know you'll be so kind as to leave that gem where you found it."
"Oh. Um, er, yes, but of course, m'lady." Jouko reluctantly placed the gem back in its chest.
As they were leaving Castle Teraknian, Lavinia stopped and asked the clerk if anyone had visited the Vanderboren vault recently. "Why, yes. Your brother, Vanthus, visited the vault several times over the past month."
"That can't be -- he's been missing for a month, and I have given him no authority to enter the vault!"
The clerk seemed shocked by this revelation. "I -- I'm sorry, milady, I had no idea that you were unaware. Your brother had a proper signet ring, and I recognized him as a Vanderboren. I shall certainly inform you if he tries to enter the vault again."
Lavinia turned to the party, looking utterly disheartened. "Well. I suppose that explains the shortage in the family vault."
Verys asked, "Do you think your brother to be in some trouble?"
"Yes, Verys, I'm afraid so. I'm afraid Vanthus may be in a world of trouble...."
Gauruloc grumbled. "Typical human theatre. They prefer a knife in the back to an axe in the throat. The axe is simpler."
Lavinia didn't seem to hear the half-orc's comment, lost in thought as she was. "Thank you for your service," she mumbled absently. "It seems I will have further need of you. Please, come visit me as soon as possible regarding an even more important commission."
THERE IS NO HONOR...
Jouko swatted feebly at the short, chubby finger jabbing his shoulder. “Not again, lass,” he pleaded groggily as he rolled over.
“They be calling for ye!” proclaimed the plump wench beside him. Jouko yawned and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. The sound of chanting from the tavern below began to reach his ears.
“Jouko! Jouko! Jouko!”
The bed creaked as Jouko sat up and swung his feet to the dirty floor. The aging barmaid crossed the room and began to dress. Jouko belched loudly and pulled his breeches on. “Ye ain’t lost yer touch, luv,” he offered with a grin.
“Sounds like we both better get down there in a hurry,” she said as she opened the door. Still fumbling with the buttons of her dress, she stepped into the hall. “It was good ta see ya, sweetie. Go easy on the crockery, eh?”
"Of course," Jouko laughed as he reached for the tankard on the bedside table. He drained it in one big gulp and tossed it over his shoulder. The tankard shattered on the dingy floor with a crash. He wiped his mouth on his tattooed forearm as the raucous chanting from the great room below reached a crescendo.
“Jouko! Jouko! Jouko!”
Jouko belched loudly and smiled, pleased with himself. He pulled his knee high boots on and grabbed his duffel from a nearby chair. Stumbling out the door, he leaned heavily upon the railing at the top of the stair and surveyed the tavern's dimly lit great room. The drunken crowd erupted into cheers as Jouko grinned from ear to ear and started down the stairs. “Ye blasted bilge rats! Can’t a man pleasure a wench and rest his bones a bit?”
The mob cheered and swooned as several barmaids scurried around the crowded room, their serving trays laden with tankards of grog. Jouko reached the bottom landing and grabbed a full tankard from a passing serving wench. Spilling grog down his bare chest, he drained half the tankard in several large gulps. Jouko belched loudly. “What be the need for ye freebooters to pull me from the bosom of a bonny lass?” he asked with mock indignation.
“Whirlpool!” came the shouted reply as the drunken crowd began to part, making a small clearing in the center of the room. The innkeeper came charging out of the kitchen. “Noooo!” he cried over the cheers of the crowd. “Not again! You promised!” he pleaded as Jouko staggered into the tight clearing amidst the throng of drunken sailors.
“Ye have nuthin ta worry ‘bout, mate,” Jouko said with a pat on the bald man's head. Several burly sailors grabbed the sobbing innkeeper gruffly and hoisted him overhead. They crossed the room and tossed him through the kitchen door.
Jouko stood in the center of the crowd with his arms outstretched. “Ye ready mates?” The crowd cheered and surged together. Jouko pulled his spiked chain from his duffel. The crowd began to chant again: “Whirlpool! Whirlpool!” Every man within reach extended his arm and sloshed his tankard of grog around. Jouko kicked his duffel to the edge of the ten-foot clearing and started whirling the chain in a slow arc over his head. “Raise ‘em high, ye sea dogs!” bellowed Jouko with glee as he eyed the score of hoisted tankards.
Jouko began turning in a slow circle as he whirled the spiked chain overhead with increasing speed. The chain flew through the air with a rhythmic hum that was barely audible over the cheers and chanting of the drunken throng. With a deft flick of the wrist, Jouko altered the arc of the spiked chain and sent its head smashing through several tankards. The drinking vessels exploded, showering the crowd with grog and bits of crockery. The crowd roared in drunken ecstasy as Jouko wove the spiked chain in dazzling arcs, smashing cups four and five at a time. The gathered throng pulsated with excitement, passing more tankards forward to the circle's edge. Waves of grog and crockery spewed forth from Jouko’s whirling dance.
When there were no more tankards to feed the frenzy of destruction, the crowd pushed forward, waving their arms wildly as the spiked chain whipped past. With a slight tug, Jouko smoothly redirected the chain's momentum into a narrow figure eight. Jouko didn’t see the low-hanging chandelier above him until it was too late. The chain snagged an arm of the chandelier and came rushing back down just as Jouko looked up. The chain's leading head smashed Jouko between the eyes, dropping him to the floor instantly. As the blackness washed over Jouko, the last last sound he heard was the crowd's raucous laughter.
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Upon their arrival at Vanderboren Manor the next morning, the halfling servant Kora Whistlegap ushered Gauruloc, Rubbumba, Verys and Zhandlegarrii into the dining hall. Here, a meal of spiced cheese and pepper omelettes, salt-cured boar-meat, bananas, mango juice and some of the finest product of Sasserine's coffee plantations awaited. Jouko arrived late, reeking of rum and sporting two black eyes and a badly broken nose. He strolled into the hall, sat next to Gauruloc and grabbed a hunk of cheese.
Lavinia Vanderboren joined the party, but did not touch the food on her plate -- her mind seemed to be elsewhere as she stared at the portrait of her brother, Vanthus. Before the meal was finished, Lavinia rose and began speaking wistfully, as if to herself. "Vanthus and I were quite close growing up. We had to be -- our parents were rarely around. We grew to depend on one another, and got into a fair amount of trouble together. After one particularly complex prank involving several elixirs of love being emptied into the nearby water tower, our childhoods together came to an abrupt end. I was sent to the Thenalar Academy to live out the next five years of my life, and Vanthus was shipped out to work on a family plantation.
"When we returned to live in the family manor a year ago, we had both changed. I would like to think that I benefited from my time at Thenalar. Vanthus, on the other hand, spent his time away nurturing his bitterness. He no longer had time for me, slept all day, and spent the nights with associates of doubtful character. Eventually he moved out of the house entirely -- I believe he took up with a lover in Azure District, but I never learned the details.
"When our parents died, Vanthus returned for a week to live at the manor, but he had changed even more. Gone was the easy sense of humor I recalled fondly from our childhood, and in its place was a bitter cynicism and a morbid streak that sent chills up my spine. After several arguments, Vanthus struck me with his fist. I was shocked, and for a moment it seemed Vanthus was as well. But an instant later, he was back to his new self, all scowls and menace. He gathered his belongings and left. I haven't seen him since. I know something profound happened to my brother at some point to change him, but I'm not sure what that was. I believe he's fallen in with a bad crowd, perhaps smugglers or theives or even killers. Although his attitude might speak otherwise, I hope that it's not too late, that if he can be brought back to my side I might talk some sense into him and redeem him before he passes forever out of my reach. Unfortunately, I do not know where he's gone. I would like you to find him, and bring him to me.
"I have few clues to where Vanthus has gone. I recommend asking around about him throughout the city. I doubt he's hiding out in Champion's or Noble District, but even these locations may hold clues. My suspicions that he's been living with a woman in Azure District arose from half-heard rumors, but it remains the strongest -- the only -- lead I have."
Verys nodded solemnly. He could not help but feel for Lavinia. He also knew not to judge her brother too quickly. How close had he himself let bitterness drive him to that exact kind of life? Had it not been for the teachings of his father, he too would have fallen from light. It sounded as though Vanthus had no such influence in his life. The elf vowed that he would do everything in his power to help the Lady Vanderboren.
Plans were briefly discussed. As the company was parting, Verys approached Gauruloc outside of the manor gates. "I do not mean to be rude, but I must confess that I am extremely curious. How did one such as you find the righteous path of Corellon Larethian? I say without pause that you must surely be the only one of your kind to profess appreciation for the noble spirit that is The Creator and Protector of all life. And yet I can't help but notice your disdain for me. I admit that I am not offended, for I still do not know what I think of you myself, but I am a bit -- well, curious still seems the best word."
Gauruloc grunted, regarding the elf with unblinking eyes. After a moment of silence, Verys became slightly annoyed. "It occurs to me that perhaps your 'fealty' is actually mockery. If that is the case, I do not think things will end well between you and I. I've faced the gaping maw of a wyrm black, Orc-blood, so your blade does not unsettle me."
The half-orc curled his lips and graced Verys with a feral snarl. "Spare me your vapid boasts and flourishes, you doe-eared imbecile. I don't care if you faced the Goat-Headed Lord himself. What you tell me means nothing. I could tell you that I once peed forth the entire Nyr Dyv and it would have just as much merit as the prattle you spew forth. Show me that you have more mettle than a starving cat and I might stop thinking of you as a massive cockroach.
"As for Sharp-Ears, there is no mockery in my homage, but neither do I drink from the pool of mindless adoration at which you and other sheep slake your spiritual thirst. I have seen what unthinking devotion consummates, and I'll never submit myself to that damnation. I follow Sharp-Ears because he is less of a fool than the One-Eyed Lout that oppresses my mother's people. That is all you need to know."
With that, Gauruloc turned and left for Castle Teraknian. There he would watch to see if Vanthus Vanderboren returned to his family vault. Verys watched him go with narrowed eyes, still stinging from Gauruloc's upbraiding. "Very well, half-orc. It might serve you well, however, to remember that insolence does not equal enlightenment and that hasty judgement begets a careless mind. At least I let you speak before I judged you a fool."
Verys left to gather information in the Merchant's District, but his exchange with the half-orc remained in his mind. A mirthless grin spread across his face as he recalled the party's recent struggle with the Vanderborens' construct. Perhaps his next misspent arrow might not careen harmlessly off of the brute's armor. The half-orc may have solved the puzzle of the vault, but he was nonetheless an utter fool and a danger to the group. Verys resolved to watch him closely -- from about thirty feet, to be exact.
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Rubbumba left Zhandle in their apartment, where she meant to delve deeper into Thoersten Coppersmite's well-intentioned but misguided tome on adventuring. She ended up spending most of the day sleeping off the heavy morning meal and her lingering hangover, face-down in her book. It never occured to her that Coppersmite's prescription of ale before, during and after every encounter might be unwise. She simply assumed that she had yet to build up the proper tolerance.
The eight-pointed star symbol featured so prominently in the Vanderboren Vault was still emblazoned in Rubb's mind. He knew that he had seen it somewhere, and it didn't take him long to find it. There it was, carved into the front door of an otherwise unassuming building in the Merchant's District. Although Rubb could not gain entry, he spent the better part of the afternoon learning everything he could about the building and its secretive occupants. This was the Seeker Lodge, the regional base of a world-spanning group of adventurers and treasure hunters known as the Seekers. The Seeker Lodge was maintained by a soft-spoken man named Feldus Selvant. Apparently Lavinia's parents had been members. Rubb was unable to learn anything about Vanthus Vanderboren, however -- those who had heard of him assumed he was still living at the family manor.
Gauruloc and Verys did not fare much better, each spending the day in fruitless pursuit of Vanthus. That evening, however, Jouko managed to pick up the scent of Lavinia's elusive brother in Shadowshore. Not only had Vanthus been seen in the area, but he was often in the company of a known smuggler named Penkus. Penkus was a semi-notorious figure in Shadowshore, known for his drunken binges and violent temper. Over the last year, Penkus had been less visible in Shadowshore, leading many to believe he'd moved on to another venue. As recently as a few weeks ago, though, Penkus and Vanthus were spotted at a boat shop called It Still Floats!, where they got in a huge argument with the proprietor, a pessimistic dwarf named Panchi.
Jouko paid a visit to Panchi. After expressing feigned interest in a weather-beaten baitskiff (and sharing a bottle of spiced rum), Jouko managed to win the crusty dwarf over a bit. "Aye, I sold a boat to Penkus and 'is young friend. They were excited as a virgin boy in a brothel. They loaded a lot of lamp oil, lanterns, and rope into the boat before they left. I'm not sure where they went, but they headed west, keepin' to the harbor. The boat I sold 'em wasn't much to look at, but she's got it where it counts -- har, who am I kiddin'? That tub is prob'ly sleeping on the bottom of the bay by now!"
Jouko paid a visit to Vanderboren Manor, and the next morning Kora Whistlegap visited each of the companions. She informed them that Jouko had information regarding Vanthus' whereabouts. He asked that the others meet him that evening at the Ticklish Ogre, a waterfront tavern in the Merchant's District.
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Shefton Rosk lurked in a corner of the Ticklish Ogre, trying hard not to stare at his quarry. Even without the half-orc, the party was easy to recognize -- a laconic elf; a brazen sailor with gold teeth and black eyes; and a couple of nitwitted halflings. As the half-elf listened to their puerile banter, he told himself that this would be a cinch. He would be a Lotus Dragon in no time, with wealth and infamy soon to follow. Nonetheless, the novice rogue's hands shook and his eyes darted about anxiously.
The little halfling woman tugged the bald halfling's sleeve, giggling. "Why on Oerth would anyone tickle an ogre?" Shefton knew their names to be Rubbumba and Zhandlegarri -- ridiculous monikers befitting such frivolous creatures, he thought. The one known as Rubb looked about, his nose wrinkled in distaste. For an instant, Shefton thought the halfling had spotted him. Then he remembered that none of them would have reason to recognize him. He tried to relax. He was supposed to wait until they were all together, but he was growing restless. Where was the half-orc?
The loutish sailor, the one called Jouko, began singing, an artless effort that grated on Shefton's ears.
Ye mariners all, as ye pass by
Come in and drink if you be dry
Come spend, me lads, your money brisk
And pop your nose in a jug of this!
Rubb did not seem to enjoy the performance any more than Shefton -- he took Zhandle by the hand, and led her away between drunken sailors and over shards of broken crockery towards the bar. There, Rubb jumped up and down, trying to get the bartender's attention. She was a rather tall woman, and by her appearance might have had some ogre blood in her. An immense wart loomed ominously on her brow, staring down at its angry twin perched on one of her nostrils. Her beefy, corded forearms looked up to the task of bouncing out any troublemakers. "Hey," said Zhandle, "she kind of looks like Thoersten's drawing of an ogr...."
Shefton heard alarm in Rubb's voice as he interrupted his wife. "Sweat Pea, might I politely suggest that you do NOT finish that sentence! And whatever you do, don't ask whether she's ticklish! And for lands sakes, don't try it for yourself!" When Rubb looked back at the bartender, she was scowling down at him. He quickly ordered four ales, but when Zhandle looked away, he whispered to the bartender, asking that she make one of the ales a water instead, with a wink towards Zhandle's turned head. The bartender glowered. "You pay the same, either way," she grunted, and went about pouring the drinks.
The sailor was still singing horribly when the halflings returned to the table. Shefton wondered how the elf tolerated it. Shefton read the male halfling's lips as he asked Jouko, "So, what is so important that you dragged us all here?"
Jouko's lips were a bit harder to read -- the glint off his gold teeth was distracting. "Ye be about doing the Lady's business, aye? And what did yer trouble net ye?"
"Besides a sore back and an alcoholic wife, you mean?" The halfling's retort elicited a snicker from the elf, hearty laughter from the sailor, and an elbow in the ribs from his little woman. "Sorry, darling. Here ... have some of your drink. Careful, now. This is PURE dwarven spirits. See, it's perfectly clear. That's how you can tell it's pure."
The elf, Verys, offered to pay for the round. Rubbumba thanked him, and the sailor raised his mug of ale in salute: "To mariners all!" Zhandlegarrii took a few sips of her water and grinned. "I think I'm getting the hang of it! I'm A DRINKER NOW! This is so much easier going down, it's almost like water. Stagnant, murky, pond-scummy water, albeit, but at least it doesn't kick like a mule!"
"Thar ye go! Yo ho!" encouraged Jouko.
"I told you, Love. Nothing but the good stuff for you. Let me know when you're ready for another, and I'll fetch it for you," said the little apple-polisher Rubbumba. Shefton sneered at the party's asinine antics. Did Vanthus really believe this lot to be a threat? Too late, Shefton noticed almond-shaped eyes staring back at him. Verys had spotted him. His dirty hands began trembling slightly, and he considered leaving the Ticklish Ogre without a look back. He bit his lip. No, he would not flee. He would complete his assignment and reap his just reward. He would be a Lotus Dragon.
The elf whispered something to his companions. Rubbumba glanced in Shefton's direction and slipped into the crowd. It's now or never, the half-elf realized. He approached the group, and blurted, "I'm Shefton. I hear you're looking for Vanthus Vanderboren. I have some information if you're still interested, but it'll cost you five gold coins." I'm talking to fast, and I just told them my real name, he realized. But then, they won't live long enough to tell, he reminded himself.
Verys nodded at him. "And what business of yours is our business, half-blood?"
"Word gets around on the streets. You've all been asking a lot of questions about Vanthus. I can help."
The elf nodded again and placed five shiny gold coins on the table. Shefton reached for them hesitantly, hand trembling. He was supposed to appear nervous, it was part of the act. But did he look too nervous? Were they on to him? He swallowed hard and pocketed the coin. "Vanthus has been laying low for the last few days, living in an abandoned complex of smuggler's tunnels below Parrot Island. The place is hard to find. If you really want Vanthus, I can lead you to a hidden trap door he's been using to enter and exit the complex below the isle. But it'll cost you five more gold coins." Shefton was so shaken that he didn't notice Rubbumba reach into his pocket and fish out the elf's gold.
The sailor piped up. "How ye know this, lad?"
"Vanthus and a man named Penkus approached me a few weeks ago to help set up a smuggling operation in the old tunnels below Parrot Island. Once he was set up, he cut me out of the deal. He ordered me killed -- dead men tell no tales -- but I managed to escape. Vanthus has been looking for me since. Needless to say, I can't very well go to the watch. But I'd sleep a lot easier if someone else gave him what's coming to him."
Jouko stroked his beard thoughtfully. "The lad speaks true. I heard o' this Penkus. He and Vanthus bought a boat from a pissy dwarf in Shadowshore and headed west -- right for Parrot Island!" Jouko pointed dramatically out the window to the north, where a small island was visible in the harbor between the Merchant's District and Shadowshore. "Thar be where we find Vanthus." Shefton let out his breath for the first time since approaching the group. He hadn't expected one of their own to vouch for him.
The elf's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Regardless, we don't mean to kill Vanthus Vanderboren. We just want to ask him some questions."
"That's fine," Shefton answered, improvising. "I'd feel a whole lot safer if he was dead. But I'd be just as happy if he was off the streets, one way or another. I tell you, he's out to get me."
Just then, the male halfling returned to the group and plunked five gold pieces on the table in front of Shefton -- the same coins he had just plucked from the unknowing half-elf's pocket. "There's your gold, sir. Now, where's this hideout?"
"Good, it's settled then," Shefton sighed. "As I said, I can take you to the secret trapdoor Vanthus uses to get into the old tunnels under the island. After that, you're on your own."
Jouko flashed a golden grin. "Yar. Vanthus played you for a fool, and now ye betray him. There is truly no honor among thieves, 'twould seem."
The female halfling perked up. "Hmm. That gives me an idea!" Her little manling groaned and buried his bald head in his palms. Zhandle continued, undeterred. "I think we could all do with a bit more trust and honesty!" Without further warning, she began casting a spell.
"That's a lovely idea, darling. I'm sure we'll all -- uh-oh." Rubb's eyes glazed over. Jouko's eyes, already glazed, swam drunkenly in his head. Verys and Shefton exchanged bewildered glances. Rubb spoke in a monotone voice. "You know, dear, that dress makes you look kind of fat."
Zhandlegarrii slapped Rubb and gave Shefton a frustrated look. "What, nothing? Thoersten didn't write anything about you elves being immune to hypnotism. But then, he didn't write very much about magic at all -- I don't think he likes it."
Rubbumba droned on earnestly. "No -- wait. It's not the dress that makes you look fat. It's the fact that you're fat that makes you look fat."
Shefton almost chuckled, but his skin grew clammy when he heard a deep, menacing voice behind him -- very close behind him. "What arcane foolishness is this? And what's this talk about an island?" Shefton dared turn his head just enough to spot the big half-orc, the one called Gauruloc, from the corner of his eye.
"Ahoy, mate," droned the sailor. In a sudden bout of honesty, he continued. "Let's be going. The sooner we be done, the sooner I can bed a bonny lass. Or a fat, ugly wench. I don't care much either way, truth be told."
"What ensorcelment have you foisted upon your companions, snackling?" Gauruloc demanded.
Zhandle groaned. "That's the last time I ask for honesty around this bunch."
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Once Zhandlegarri's squandered hypnotism spell wore off, Jouko led the party in "liberating" a smallish dinghy (despite Zhandle's boat-weary protestations). Before long, Parrot Island loomed in the harbor before them. The island was little more than a rocky outcropping surrounded by 30-foot-high cliffs save from the eastern end, where a narrow beach afforded an easier approach. The isle was thickly vegetated, the trees above serving as the roost for hundreds of noisy, brightly colored parrots.
Gauruloc and Jouko spotted a partially overgrown trail leading up from the beach and looked to Shefton. The half-elf nodded and led the way up the path to a clearing in the vegetation. At the southern end of the clearing, Shefton pointed out a stone trap door. He wrestled with the wicked grin that wanted to spread across his face -- once the group went in there, he knew they would never come back out. Admission into the Lotus Dragons was his at last!
"This is the door I told you about. Vanthus is down there, somewhere."
"It just be Vanthus and Penkus, eh?" asked Jouko.
"Um, yes, they had a few men working with them, but I suspect Vanthus betrayed them just like he did me."
The male halfling checked the door for traps before opening it, revealing a five-foot-wide shaft leading into the darkness below. A rope hung from a hook in the wall, providing an easy method of descent. Soon the entire party had disappeared through the trap door. This time Shefton allowed his grin to emerge. It had been even easier than he hoped. What if they had insisted he go down into the tunnels with them? Down where the hungry dead wait? An involuntary shudder convulsed his spine, and an icy dagger of fear stabbed at his heart.
Shefton coughed. Warm, dark fluid erupted from his throat, filling his mouth and coating his lips. He wiped at his mouth with a grimy hand, and pulled it away to see blood. A horrible pain coursed through his body, his pulse quickened, and breathing became difficult. The dagger in his heart was not fear at all, but a corporeal weapon -- a knife in the back! He heard a soft chuckle grow louder as a black shroud fell over his vision. With a raspy cry, Shefton toppled headfirst into the shaft, falling past the group he had just betrayed. He landed at the bottom with a grotesque thud. There is no honor... was his final, incomplete thought.
Vanthus Vanderboren stood at the top of the shaft. His mocking laughter rang down on the party, and he called out in a menacing voice. "Serves you right for messing around with my sister, you thugs. Say hello to Penkus' ghost for me while you're down there!" And say hello to his rotting friends, he thought with a sinister smile. He slammed the trap door into place, and rolled some heavy boulders over the top of it. It occurred to him that he did not have to kill the half-elf. But then, dead men tell no tales.
How about some stats. classes, and alignments for your PCs? Good tale/ adventure. They sound like a fun group!
How about some stats. classes, and alignments for your PCs? Good tale/ adventure. They sound like a fun group!
By request, here are the original metagame write-ups by the PCs for Rubb, Zhandle and Jouko (pronounced Yoko). The characters have since leveled up.
Rubbumba (halfling rogue 1)
Rubbumba is a young adult halfling --25 years old-- living in the Merchant District of Sasserine with his young wife, Zhandlegarrii. At 3'8" and 38 lbs, he is rather tall and stocky for a halfling. He's not all that great looking, but Rubbumba is still concerned about his appearance. He never had any luck taming his wild mop of thick, brown hair, so he just shaves his head bald. He has piercing blue eyes, and rather thick, bushy eyebrows. His wide forehead and strong jaw give him a tough, serious look.
Rubbumba is all about bravado and machismo around others, but his love for Zhandlegarrii is the true heart and soul of his existence. While he might spend his evenings in the tavern boasting about the three hobgoblin muggers he fought off single-handedly on the way home from work ... he wouldn't hesitate to walk a mile out of his way to pick flowers for his absent minded sweetheart. She has him, in essence, whipped ... and he knows it.
Rubbumba is an Herbalist by trade. He is quite knowledgeable about all types of flora and their medicinal and alchemical properties, but his real area of expertise is in fungus and molds. The years he spent crawling and climbing into dark, hard to reach areas has made him quite nimble. Often, such places are home to less-than-savory creatures and individuals, so he also has achieved some measure of skill with a blade and bow.
Rubbumba works for the Alchemist's Guild, in the center of the Merchant District. He is tasked with keeping the guild's training hall supplied with various herbs and mushrooms. It is through the Alchemist's Guild that he met his wife, Zhandlegarrii, an accident prone experimental Alchemist. The couple earns a decent combined income from the guild, and as such they are able to rent a modest apartment in the alley just behind the guild hall, at the end of Stinkgutter Way. **METAGAME: Every 7 days, Rubbumba makes an Herbalism Profession check, and Zhandle makes an Alchemy Craft check, each earning 1/2 of the resulting roll in gold, +5% due to the Merchant's Tongue feat. Rubbumba is always "working", looking for herbs and molds wherever he goes to sell back to the guild - even when adventuring. This is obviously not possible for Zhandle, so she can't earn her Craft income while away from the guild hall. Every 10 days, they owe the guild 11gp for room and board. This grants them a small, 2 room flat, a stall in the stable, and meals in the guild dining hall. This is based on the PHB daily prices for a common room and meals for 2 people.** Their budget is tight, but manageable, and they live comfortably and have even managed to put some money away.
Zhandlegarri (halfling wizard 1)
Zhandlegarrii is very pretty, though quite thin... almost waiflike. She doesn't get out much, and is therefore quite pale and weak. She's not sickly, but she's definitely not robust either. She wears thick spectacles and can't see a bloody thing without them.
Zhandle has an obsessive compulsive personality, which works well with her chosen career. She is also somewhat reclusive, so she has no problem at all spending long hours alone, in the dark, pouring over books and writing formulae by candlelight. She is a halfling who is accustomed to routine, and is prone to panic attacks when things don't go exactly as planned. If Zhandle starts to get over excited, Rubbumba can often be heard soothing her and telling her to take out her "breathe bag" and to take slow, deep breaths.
Since she is so shy and nervous, Rubbumba is the most wonderful and exciting thing that has ever happened to Zhandlegarrii. She doesn't see him as others do... rather plain and husky. To her, Rubbumba is the king of the world, and she does all she can to be the perfect wife to him.
Jouko (human fighter 1)
Feats: Exotic Weapon Proficiency (Spiked Chain), Combat Expertise, Improved Trip
Jouko is a 21 year old human male, CN alignment. His current profession is that of a sailor. Though his disposition and outlook give him a propensity for piracy. He is young but many years of hard living on the sea mask his youth. He is a scraggly tooth sailor with years of experience. He has lived on the sea since he was a lad of 10 years. He is a capable sailor and strong swimmer. He favors the spiked chain as a weapon and often uses it to swing from the rigging when fighting or boarding another ship. Living at sea precludes the use of heavy armor, he wears a ragtag set of leather armor that he has pieced together over time. It's little more than some torso and forearm protection. Though he often does honest sailoring he has plenty of experience as a pirate and has a good reputation within that circle. However he doesn't openly proclaim his pirating habits as he changes ships frequently. He enjoys wenching and wine more than life itself and indulges in both whenever in port. Among the docks of Sasserine he is a known figure, largely known as a good sailor and handy with a weapon.
My weapon of choice is a spiked chain. It's an interesting weapon and has some unique characteristics. It's a reach weapon, 10ft, but also may be used to attack adjacent targets. I can also use this weapon for disarm and trip attempts. Trip is pretty much the same, detailed below. Disarm with a spiked chain is disgusting. When I take Improved Disarm at 2nd level I'll give you the run down. In a nutshell it's pretty much impossible for me to fail a disarm check, my modifiers will be so high that only critical failure or success can preclude me from winning.
How about the next chapter?
PERIL! UNDER PARROT ISLAND ... PART I
The body of Shefton Rosk plummeted down the shaft, landing on the stone floor with a wet, gruesome thwack. Mocking laughter rang down on the party, and a menacing voice called out from above. "Serves you right for messing around with my sister, you thugs. Say hello to Penkus' ghost for me while you're down there!" The trap door slammed shut, and the grating sound of heavy objects being placed on the door echoed through the chamber.
"Well," sighed Rubbumba, "we're not getting back out that way. May as well have a look about." The halfling shouldered his little pack and began exploring down the only passageway out of the tight chamber. The others fell in line behind Rubb. Verys exposed the charm on his necklace, which was imbued with an everburning torch enchantment, and took up the rear guard.
The dank, brick-lined tunnel ended in a door of soggy wood, which appeared to be waterlogged and swollen shut. "This appears to be your kind of lock," Rubb deferred to Gauruloc. The half-orc put his shoulder to the door and forced it open onto a hall running east and west, ending in double doors at both ends. Both sets of double-doors hung ajar. As the doors to the west were nearest, Rubb proceeded in that direction. Looking into the room, he observed four great wooden pillars rising up to support the ceiling, which sagged dangerously in places and was thick with hanging strands of fungus. Several doors lined the walls -- one to the west (from which came a muffled sloshing sound), two to the north (the western of which was badly damaged and hung askew on its one remaining hinge), and two to the east. To the south, the ceiling had collapsed, leaving the southern part of the room choked in debris. A rippling pool of water reached halfway into the room from this wall of stone and rubble. It seemed that a wooden pier once extended into this pool, but all that remained were several rotting wooden pilings protruding from the water. A man's body floated face down among them.
Zhandlegarrii pinched her nose. "Phew! What's that smell?"
"More of Vanthus' handiwork, no doubt," growled Jouko. "Probably another one of his 'friends.'"
Verys muttered something about having a bad feeling as Rubb moved cautiously toward the floating body. Just as he was about to reach the corpse, five monstrous dark brown kelp crabs surged out of the pool! Each crab measured nearly two feet in diameter, with pincers the size of daggers. The first of the crabs caught Rubb by surprise, hitting him with both pincers. Another crab struck a glancing blow on Jouko's calf, and another struck a vicious pincer attack on hapless Zhandlegarrii.
Gauruloc roared and sent his longsword flashing, landing a critical blow that cleaved one of the crabs in twain. Verys loosed an arrow that hit at the base of another crab's eyestalks, badly wounding the creature. Rubb hurled himself at the crab that struck his darling Zhandle, bringing his short sword down hard upon the offending crustacean and hacking off several legs. Gauruloc turned his mighty blade on another of the crabs, putting a deep crack in its shell.
Zhandlegarrii stepped back from the fray and cast a ray of frost, further weakening the crab that had attacked her. "Ahhhh Rubb, get these icky things away from me!" Jouko sent his chain whirling at the nearest crab, its head solidly crunching the crab's shell. Spotting another crab skittering towards Zhandle's flank, Jouko turned and lashed out again with his chain, crushing the monster.
Gauruloc again displayed his crab crunching prowess, slaying another of the beasts. By now the half-orc was covered in crab gore, and Jouko noted that he smelled a bit like the pirate's favorite waterfront dive in Port Joli. He wished for some melted butter and a pint of ale as he struck another mighty blow with his chain, taking off all of the legs on one side of a crab. The crab attempted to right itself, and Jouko struck again, this time lethally cracking the monster's shell.
Having made short work of the crabs, the crew set about searching the pool. The crab-eaten, soggy body had nothing of value on it. Gauruloc thrust his head under water to see if he could make anything out using his darkvision. Something gleaming caught the half-orc's eye, and he plucked a handsomely crafted silvered dagger from the bottom of the pool.
Rubb eyed the half-orc's prize jealously, wishing he had searched a bit more thoroughly. He shrugged it off and moved to the door to the west. The sooner they found a way out of these forsaken caves, the better. The sloshing sound from beyond the door came from the churning waters of a sea cave. Fueled by powerful submerged currents, the water lapped and splashed against the walls of the twisting natural cavern that led to the west. A sandy slope descended from the door down to the edge of the subterranean tide. Dozens of purple and red sea urchins glistened in shallow divots along the ground and lower walls here, their spines glittering with water.
Jouko grinned. "Here be our way out! We just swim a bit, and we're back at the Ticklish Ogre in time for sup. I fancy a big platter o' crab...." Rubb, however, frowned at the underwater passage. The halfling moved down the slope and peered into the water, trying to gauge the depth and distance to safety. The shallow water appeared to be only a foot deep, but it got deeper rapidly.
Zhandlegarrii groaned. "I don't swim so well...."
Rubbumba sighed. "The pirate's right, dear. I think this may be our way out. But... I don't like it either. Perhaps we should search the rest of this place first? Maybe find something to help us? Or, at least make this little mishap worthwhile. If I'm going to die in an underwater cave, I'd prefer it be with gold in my pouches."
Gauruloc snickered. "Yes, you'll sink faster that way, snackling."
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Visions of lost smugglers' gold in their heads, the party set about exploring the caves beneath Parrot Island. Their initial efforts revealed some old storage rooms, their treasure consisting of little more than a barrel of drinkable (but nasty tasting) water, a few torches, flint and steel and some old, worn-out rope. "Nothing out of the ordinary," Rubb noted with a sigh.
The party soon came to a room that may have been used as a meeting hall by the smugglers of old, but now looked as if it had been abandoned for some time. Without warning, three hungry, soggy, shambling corpses burst into the room! The fanged maws of these horrific zombie pirates opened wider than they should, revealing row upon row of jagged teeth.
Rubbumba cried out, alarmed. "Well THOSE are certainly out of the ordinary!"
"The rotting dead," Gauruloc grunted. "An affront to all that is natural." The half-orc demanded that Sharp-Ears grant him divine vigor to overcome these new foes. Jouko sent his spiked chain flying towards one of the zombies, but missed his mark. The first of the zombies attempted to grapple Gauruloc in its rotting limbs, but the cleric easily held the monster's flailing arms at bay.
Zhandlegarrii shrieked in horror, then shrieked some more. Somehow, between shrieks the halfling wizard managed to cast a spell, summoning a celestial giant fire beetle to do battle with the zombies -- after all, she wasn't about to touch them herself. The beetle attempted to bite the nearest zombie, but narrowly missed.
"Zhandle, my dear, stay behind this post and you should be safe. I will protect you!" Rubbumba moved quickly across the room, drawing his short sword as he went.
The next zombie decided that the glowing beetle looked appetizing. It attempted to bite the bug, but was unable to get the insect to hold still long enough. The last ravenous zombie pirate lunged at Jouko, who barely moved his neck out of the way in time to avoid the attack. Verys swiftly loosed two arrows at a zombie, but in his caution not to hit friendly combatants, he missed his target.
Gauruloc howled in fury, bringing his sword down upon a walking corpse's head. He cleaved a cross-section of skull and dripping face away, but the mindless monster stood nonetheless. Undaunted, the zombie bit deeply into the half-orc's shoulder.
Zhandlegarrii breathed heavily into her bag, then moved to get a line of sight and cast acid splash. Zhandle hurled an orb of acid which exploded upon hitting the zombie. Her summoned fire beetle viciously bit a zombie, ripping some rotting flesh from the thing's thigh an instant before disappearing back to whence it had been summoned.
Inspired by Zhandle's acid attack, Verys snatched a flask of alchemist's fire from his pack and hurled it at the zombies. The elf scored a direct hit on one of the zombies, and the splash when the flask exploded injured another.
Rubbumba ducked and tumbled past the undead attackers, moving himself into position to strike. The halfling slashed his short sword across the gut of the nearest monster. A bit of its decaying intestine peeked out of the wound, but the ravenous zombie pirate seemed undeterred. Its jaw opened impossibly wide, and it chomped its rows of lethal teeth down on the halfling. Rubb fell to the floor, disabled by the shock, pain and horror of the attack. Seizing the opportunity for an easy meal, the next zombie kneeled and bit at Rubb's midsection, it's rows of rotting teeth effortlessly rending flesh. The halfling's vision went black as he lost consciousness. Zhandle screamed out in horror, weeping at the sight.
Jouko lashed out at one of Rubb's attackers, sending it prone with a jerk of his chain and then pounding it immediately with the opposite end of the spiked chain. Gauruloc waded into the mass of dead flesh, trying to draw attention from the dying halfling. With grim resolve and a mighty swing of his blade, the cleric lopped off the head of the zombie he had previously scalped. At last the monster fell motionless. The half-orc called back over his shoulder to Zhandle. "Stand fast, morsel. Your companion is not due to die today. So bids Sharp-Ears."
Emboldened, Zhandlegarrii pulled out her club and frantically started beating at the prone zombie Jouko had tripped. "Leave my Rubb alone!" Her first attempt missed the zombie altogether (and quite nearly brained Rubb). Her second blow never even landed, as she slipped in ichor and landed flat on her backside.
The zombie Verys had doused with alchemist's fire smoldered and writhed, but still shambled menacingly enough. Verys sank an arrow into it, hoping to finish the job. However, his arrow pierced through its soggy flesh with no resistance, and the mindless monster didn't even seem to notice.
"Your arrows are as effective as your wit, elf. Draw steel!" cried Gauruloc. Drawn by his cry, the standing zombie chomped at Gauruloc. The half-orc slammed his forearm up into the creature's lower jaw, snapping its mouth shut before it could bite him.
The prone zombie attempted to rise, drawing attacks from Gauruloc and Jouko. They hit it simultaneously, ravaging it with sword and chain. The monster was no more. Jouko jerked his chain from the zombie's skull and lashed out at the remaining zombie's legs, but the attack was errant.
Fearing that the halfling would die any moment without intervention, Gauruloc rushed to Rubb's aid, provoking a vicious attack from the last zombie. It latched onto Gauruloc's forearm as he moved past, rending flesh from bone. Gauruloc howled in pain, but grit his teeth and granted the vigor of Sharp-Ears to the fallen snackling. Though the halfling lay unmoving, Gauruloc sensed that his condition had stabilized.
Zhandlegarrii, seeing what Gauruloc had done, hugged the half-orc's shin mightily, then moved protectively over Rubb should the last zombie target him. Verys, who had dropped his bow in favor of his longsword, slashed at the zombie to no avail. The zombie swatted away Verys' sword arm, leaving his torso exposed. Its monstrous jaw closed on the elf's neck, inflicting a serious wound. Jouko struck with his chain once again, this time tripping the zombie and deftly sending the other end of his chain to finish it off with a crushing blow.
At last, the hungry dead lay still and silent.
Glad to see new posts here; this is one of the good ones!
Thanks for the positive feedback! Sorry progress is so slow....
PERIL! UNDER PARROT ISLAND ... PART II
Dreadful moans and the sounds of gnashing teeth echoed throughout the tunnels, making it difficult to estimate how many zombies remained, or even from what direction they were approaching. Zhandle tugged on Rubb's sleeve. "Do you think Verys will be all right alone?" The elf's wound had been worse than any of them realized. Despite Gauruloc's best efforts, Verys' neck would not fully heal. He was feverish, and turning a very unhealthy shade of gray. Worse, his will seemed to have been sapped completely. The elf showed no interest in going any further. It was as if the fight with the zombies had broken his will.
"We shut him in pretty tight. He's probably safer than we are, roaming around these tunnels with those things," sighed Rubb as a particularly gruesome moan rose above the others. Rubb patted Zhandle's hand reassuringly, then scurried up to join Jouko. Whispering so that Zhandle would not hear, he shared his concern with the pirate. "I'm not sure Tightbritches is going to make it. Should we finish our exploration, or just work on finding a way out of here?"
"I ain't sees no booty. That swim ain't going to hurt yer lass none. I think it's high time we make fer the surface."
Meanwhile, Gauruloc called out to his god, Corellon, while holding three stones in his open palm. "Fill these stones with the power to fell the profane dead, Sharp Ears!" The half-orc kept one of the magic stones, and gave the others to Rubb and Zhandle. "Take these, snacklings. If we encounter any more dead ones, fling them with all your might."
Rubb took the stone Gauruloc offered and turned back to Jouko. He nodded grimly, then moved down the hallway as swiftly and silently as he could. "Let us make our escape. The sooner we get this over with, the better for Verys." And for Zhandlegarrii, the halfling thought.
Rubb came to the entrance of the chamber where the party had encountered monstrous crabs. A horrible moaning emanated from within. Jouko pushed past the halfling, rushing inside to face this new foe. Zhandle quickly cast mage armor on Rubb, hoping to protect him from the ravenous teeth and ripping nails of the pirate zombies.
Upon entering the chamber, Jouko immediately spotted two zombies. He lashed out with his chain, flaying rotting flesh away from a creature's torso. Although the chain injured the zombie, it was not nearly as effective as it would have been against a living foe.
Gauruloc flung his magic stone at a zombie, but his aim was errant and the stone clattered harmlessly into the pool. Rubbumba, emboldened by his wife's protective spell, rushed into the room belting out a fierce battle-cry and hurled Gauruloc's glowing pebble at the nearest zombie. The halfling's aim was no better than the half-orc's, and the stone bounced harmlessly off a pillar behind the mindless monster.
The first of the ravenous pirate zombies attempted to bite Jouko. The pirate narrowly evaded the monster's gaping jaws, filled with row after row of ravenous teeth. The next zombie charged at Gauruloc and attempted to bite him, but the half-orc managed to get his shield up in time to slam the zombie's jaw shut.
In muffled hysterics and dramatic whines, Zhandle wiped the fog away from her glasses (caused by her near-hyperventilation) and managed to cast summon monster. The halfling wizard called for a celestial dog, which blinked into existence near one of the zombies. The dog attempted to bite its master's foe, but was unable to get in under the zombie's flailing limbs.
Jouko whipped his spiked chain at a zombie's legs, tripping the monster. He immediately sent his chain flying again, making solid contact. But he could see that his piercing chain just sloughed through the zombie's soaked, rotting flesh. Jouko's chain just doesn't seem to be inflicting the amount of damage it should.
Rubbumba ducked and tumbled around one of the zombies, using a pillar for leverage and momentum as he swung around with his sword for a rapid attack. The thief's little sword pierced the monster's soggy, rotting flesh, with seemingly no effect.
The prone zombie attempted to stagger to its feet, drawing successful attacks from Jouko, Gauruloc, and Rubb. Gauruloc's weapon seemed to be the most effective, but the zombie refused to fall. "Slashing weapons," the cleric grunted to his companions. "Zombies are vulnerable only to slashing weapons...." Another zombie bit into Gauruloc's shoulder as he imparted their deadly secret.
Frustrated, Jouko yelled out to the half-orc. "I'll keep 'em on the deck, ye cut em up." Heeding Gauruloc's advice, Zhan threw her little hand-axe at a zombie. Miraculously (considering she hurled the weapon with one hand over her eyes, peering through her fingers), the blade buried itself in a zombie's forehead. The monster fell to its knees, then slumped face-first onto the stones, driving the axe deeper and splitting its skull. The zombie twitched for a moment, then ceased moving entirely. Zhandlegarrii cried out triumphantly. "I did it? I did it!!!"
Jouko whirled around and lashed at a zombie's legs with his chain, sending the clumsy monster prone. Gauruloc wasted no time, bringing his sword down and hacking one of the zombie's arms off at the elbow. Rubbumba, still stunned by Zhan's success, launched himself at the remaining zombie. He ran up behind Guaruloc, vaulted off of his back, and came down upon his foe with a hard, slashing blow. Howling, the zombie attempted to rise and grapple the halfling. Gauruloc's mighty blade flashed again, beheading the monster and ending the threat.
Zhandlegarrii wrinkled her nose and pointed to her little axe. "Can someone fetch that for me? It's kinda stuck ... and really gross." Rubbumba yanked the axe out of the zombie's skull and handed it, dripping oozing blade side out, to his sweet wife.
Jouko pulled his flask from his vest pocket, took a long swig and offered it to Zhandle. "All right, mates -- who's up fer a swim?"
Gauruloc frowned. "I'm afraid that my armor and my unfamiliarity with water would not be a good combination."
Zhandlegarrii chimed in. "I still only dog paddle."
"Fine bunch o' land lubbers ye be," growled the pirate.
Rubbumba sighed. "Unless you want to go see what's behind door number..." --the halfling counted on his stubby fingers -- "eleven, I don't see as you have a choice, orc."
"That would be my preference, yes, snackling. I'd rather face the dead and have a fighting chance than entrust our fate to the murky depths."
Rubbumba set his jaw and spoke forcefully through gritted teeth. "Our elven friend's life hangs in the balance. Unpleasant as it may be for tender halfling women and orcs, I think a swim at this point would be our most prudent option."
Gauruloc finally shrugged his shoulders and fell in behind the halfling. The group grimly made their way to the churning waters of the sea cave. Fueled by what must be powerful submerged currents, the water lapped and splashed against the walls of the twisting natural cavern. A sandy slope descended from the door down to the edge of the subterranean tide. Dozens of purple and red sea urchins glistened in shallow divots along the ground and lower walls here, their spines glittering with water.
Gauruloc began removing his armor. "I will not be pulled down to drown like some clubbed fish."
Jouko waded out into the water first, with Rubb close behind. Gauruloc and Zhandle followed reluctantly. Jouko looked back and splashed Zhandle playfully. "See lass, it's not that baaaaa...." The surging current pulled Jouko prone. Zhandle began to laugh, until she too was knocked flat. Pirate and wizard alike landed painfully in a patch of sea urchins. Jouko became nauseous almost immediately, retching a green cloud into the churning water. Aside from the painful prick of the urchin barbs in her backside, Zhandle felt no other negative effect.
"Mind the urchins, lads, they packs a punch," Jouko mumbled weakly. "Pardon me while I feed the fish again...." In addition to his nausea, the pirate felt as if his strength had been sapped. Using the flat of his dagger, Rubbumba carefully flicked a couple urchins into his backpack for later study.
Gauruloc grunted. "I'm afraid I don't know how to help you recover from -- pointed sea fungus, human."
"Bah! I be fine. Let's swim." Jouko managed to keep his footing, reaching deeper water where he could swim with no risk of slipping. Gauruloc and Rubb cautiously paddled out after the pirate.
Zhandle bravely tried to follow, but once again was knocked flat by surging waters. She screamed as poisonous urchin barbs pierced her backside. "Argh! My rump feels like a pin cushion!" Suddenly she felt nausea swell up inside her. Her little cheeks ballooned outwards and then sent a grotesque fountain of spray high into the air. Gauruloc groaned and swam back to assist the halflings.
Jouko muttered something about useless lubbers and swam ahead. Even with his glowstick, the water-filled smuggler caves were dark and eerie. After a while he called back. "Wee ones! Where ye be?"
"We're barely wet yet," yelled a frustrated Rubbumba. "My Sweat Pea fell on another urchin and is summarily filling the cavern with cheesy vomit."
Zhandlegarrii sobbed softly. "Rubb, are we going to die down here?"
"Yes, dear. I think that's very likely, at this rate."
Jouko shook his head. "Stay where ye be, ye'll do less harm that way. I'll find the way out fer all of us. We can discuss payment later." Jouko swam on, eventually coming to a door. Jouko pulled the door open slowly, not knowing whether to expect monstrous crabs, pirate zombies, or perhaps a giant urchin. The smell in the chamber was horrific, a cloying stink of rotten meat rising from a bloated, seeping body slumped in the middle of the floor. The corpse's dark, almost black flesh bulged against its armor, ready to burst at the slightest touch. An intricate tattoo of a dragon clutching a flower was barely visible on his shoulder against the diseased flesh, and clutched in one hand was a crumpled scroll.
Jouko scratched his scraggly chin, and cautiously kicked one of the corpse's feet. Nothing happened. He stooped and gingerly took the scroll from the corpse's dead hand. It was a hastily scribbled note identify the body as the corpse of the smuggler Penkus and condemning Vanthus Vanderboren. Jouko searched the body, mindful not to touch the flesh. He reckoned that Penkus' suit of masterwork leather armor was still serviceable, though it would need to be cleaned mightily before it could be used. He also found a gold ring upon one bloated finger, and a masterwork dagger hidden in one of Penkus' boots. Jouko pocketed the dagger and ring and carefully stripped off the armor, stowing it in his duffle with wrinkled nose. "That stench," he mused ruefully, "isn't gonna come out."
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Meanwhile, Rubb called out to Jouko, his little voice eerily echoing off stone and water. There was no reply. "That's it. The hatch is our only way to get out of here, whether the scoundrel makes it or not. It can't hurt to go give it a try."
Gauruloc nodded slowly. "You'd have a hard time opening that door, snackling, even if we hadn't heard the bastard Vanthus sealing it from above. But I may as well try my shoulder at it. We can check on the elf while we're at it. Not that he's been of any use."
"Rubb, all of this swimming -- or not swimming, I suppose -- is making me hungry. Do we have any food left? Please tell me we're not going to starve down here."
"Darling, there's a whole cavern of crushed crab behind us. I imagine they can be prepared to be rather tasty. We'll stop there and have a bite before we rejoin Verys and have a try at that hatch."
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Having finished the grim task of looting Penkus, and finding no way out of the caverns, Jouko waded back into the drink for the swim back to his companions. On the swim back, however, he felt a current tugging at him. He dove under to investigate, swimming to the bottom and following the current. There he found the entrance to a tunnel, roughly five feet in radius. Jouko surfaced, drew a deep breath and dove back down and into the tunnel.
Jouko followed the twisting, claustrophobic tunnel for a long way. Just when he thought his lungs would burst, the tunnel emerged from the seabed into open ocean water. A strong kick propelled him up to the surface and he drank in night air! He was in the harbor between Parrot Island and the gate that separated Shadowshore from Cudgel District.
Jouko swam to shore on Parrot Island, dragging himself up onto a sandy beach. He followed the beach until he found the trail leading back to the clearing with the hatch -- the site of Vanthus Vanderboren's ambush. There was no sign of Vanthus in the clearing, other than some boulders rolled over the top of the hatch. Jouko dropped his pack and went about clearing the hatch. The boulders rolled away easily enough, but it probably would have been impossible to budge the hatch from below.
Jouko opened the hatch and stuck his head down into the shaft. "Yar, ye land lubbers!" He was greeted by an odd sound below, muffled, and vaguely -- squinchy? That was followed by a crunch and a dreadful moan. "That be you, elf? Ye don't sound well." Jouko dropped his sunrod down the shaft. In the glow, he saw a face emerge below -- a rotting, horrifying face, its fanged maw open to reveal row upon row of jagged teeth. It was a ravenous zombie pirate, and it looked to be feasting upon the elf -- or what was left of him, anyway.
Jouko lifted one of the boulders back to the lip of the shaft and balanced it as he looked down at the horrific scene again. He waited until he could see the zombie's entire body below, and then released the boulder. The rock crashed down loudly. Jouko could see the zombie's limbs protruding from beneath the boulder, and heard a muffled "Yaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr."
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Gauruloc paused between bites of crab leg. "Did you snacklings hear something just then? A crash?"
Zhandle wiped crab juices from her mouth with the back of her hand. "Nnnyoph, I dninnit ear nuffin."
Rubbumba shook a crab leg at Gauruloc. "You know, if that pirate's not dead, I'm going to give him what for when he returns. Us, having to do all this hard work, living off the land, while he's off gallivanting about and having fun. I imagine he swam back to town and is probably out carousing as we speak."
Gauruloc shook his head in disgust. "Enough, snacklings! You are plump enough already. These crabs are as big as you, don't try to eat them all! Let's go check on the elf. I'll try the blasted trap door, though no good it will do."
Zhandlegarrii pouted. "This may be our last meal -- EVER!"
Rubbumba grinned. "Yeah, relax. We might as well make the best out of a bad situation. The elf's no doubt sleeping off his injury, and the pirate's probably off drinking and wenching."
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Jouko lifted a soggy boot high and stomped the zombie's head until it ceased moving. Nearby, the elf's partially eaten intestines were strewn on the floor. Verys' face had been chewed away until it was barely recognizable. Jouko sighed and went about searching through the elf's belongings.
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Gauruloc had finally had enough. "By Sharp-Ears," he roared, "you snacklings are the most useless creations I've ever encountered. Eat and whine, is that all your puny gods meant you to do?"
Rubbumba threw up his hands. "Oh fine. Let's go check on the elf. I'll bring him a crab leg. No more than one, though. I'd hate to see him split his tight britches."
The half-orc and halflings left their crustacean feast behind and tromped back towards the entrance. To their dismay, they found that the door they had left secured was battered down.
"Oh dear," said Zhandlegarrii. "You don't think...."
Inside the door lay an unmoving zombie, a veritable pin cushion. There must have been twenty arrows sticking out of it. Rubbumba kicked at the zombie admiringly. "Skinnypants must have been really hungry to do this!"
Gauruloc grimly surveyed the scene. From what he could tell, it looked as if two zombies had burst in. Verys managed to fell one with his swift bow. The other, however, likely shielded behind its companion, managed to reach the elf. There was a heavy splash of blood on the wall, too fresh and vital to have come from a zombie. The elf retreated. Here now was an empty flask -- the elf must have quaffed one of his healing potions. There were signs of a valiant battle, steel against death itself. The half-orc turned the corner and saw Jouko perched over Very's grisly remains, and the second zombie crushed beneath a boulder.
Rubb and Zhandle rounded the corner right behind Gauruloc. Zhandle immediately began to gag, her crabby meal trying to return the way it had come.
"Ahoy, mateys," called Jouko. Rubbumba rushed forward and reverently laid Verys' crab leg upon his chest. Or at least, in the vicinity of the elf's ravaged chest cavity. Gauruloc delivered a brief consecration over the elf's remains. He would have taken him above ground to bury him properly in the fashion of Corellon, but there were so many bits and pieces, and it was difficult to distinguish where elf ended and zombie began in the bloody mess.
Minutes later, the remaining companions emerged at last from beneath Parrot Island, their packs stuffed with Verys' things, and breathed deeply of the fresh night air. Zhandlegarrii threw herself down in the grass and hugged the land. The relief she felt was beyond description -- especially as she heard a plaintive, hungry groan emanate from somewhere below. Her need to get far away from here overrode Zhandle's instinctive mistrust of boats, and the little crew had soon boarded the dinghy Jouko "borrowed" for their expedition to Parrot Island.
Out in the open water, Jouko stopped rowing for a moment and plucked a scroll from his breast pocket. Rubbumba stared at the approaching shoreline, thinking dark thoughts. Jouko tossed the scroll to the halfling. "What ye make o' this, wee lad?"
Rubbumba read the scroll silently, passing it to Zhandle when he finished. Remembering Thoersten Coppersmiter's description of half-orcs as being confused and "real stupid," Zhandle assumed that Gauruloc was illiterate. As a show of friendship, she read the scroll aloud for his benefit. She even put on her best pirate-smuggler voice.
"These bones once be Penkus, so if ye read this, I be dead, laid low by the sick put on me by that foul dead thing. Yet even as me flesh wracks, know t'was not the dead that brought my doom, but one I 'til recently called friend! Vanthus Vanderboren! Your name fills me with bile! Spineless, treacherous cur! You left us here to die! You left ME here to die, after all what I done t'get ye into th' Lotus! Yer designs on the Lady of the Lotus be clear now, and with meself out th' way ... ye doubtless move even now into power, slithering amid my vacancy like a hermit crab in a shell, or a cadaver worm to still warm flesh. CURSE UPON YE! To th' one what reads this. If ye have any honor or vengeance in yer soul, know that Vanthus must die. He dwells in the lap o' th' Lotus, below th' Taxidermist's Hall. Seek him there, but 'fore he dies he must ken it were Penkus what undid him and guides yer killing blow. And if, by some cruel spite of fate, it be ye what read this, Vanthus, know with certainty I wait for ye in Hell, where I intend t' rival the pit itself in yer torment!"
Zhandle chuckled nervously. "Anyone else detect some anger management issues?"
Rubbumba spoke grimly. "I think, after a quick stopover to clean up, get some proper rest, and recover, we need to head to the Taxidermist's Hall and pay Vanthus what's coming to him. After what we just went through, I can't wait to gut him like the pig he is." Rubb sat silently for the rest of the short trip, momentarily shocked by the harshness of his own words. He recalled a forbidden tome that he had hidden away, and wondered if he could use its secrets to inflict terrible retribution upon their foe.
Bad Dates you must have the best players around! These characters are ideal! Now who to replace the fallen elf?
Bad Dates you must have the best players around! These characters are ideal! Now who to replace the fallen elf?
I am lucky to have some great players, Jib. Unfortunately, four of us (me, Rubb, Zhandle and Jouko) live on the East Coast, two (Gauruloc and Verys) live in Texas in a different time zone. Lately, it's become impossible to get the whole group together on Fantasy Grounds II at one time, so Gauruloc and Verys' players agreed to drop out of the ST game. They're going to be part of a new group I'll be running through the RotRL AP. Meanwhile, Rubb, Zhandle and Jouko will continue on in the STAP. Jouko's real-life brother is joining in as a very piratey and setting appropriate cleric of Olidammara. I'm a few sessions behind on the campaign journal, I'll try to get some more material up this week.
DEAD OR ALIVE...
I'm the man before the mast
And on this simple subject
Will you please enlighten me
Common sailors we are called
Come tell me the reason why
And on this simple subject I'll reply
Don't you call us common sailors anymore
Good things to you we bring
Don't you call us common men
We're as good as anybody that's on shore....
"Oh goodie," sighed Zhandle. "Another sea shanty. Doesn't he know any songs about safe, dry, solid land?"
Rubb surveyed Jouko and frowned. The singing sailor's feet were up on the table, one of his big toes waggled through a hole in his boot, and he gulped fine wine from an ornate goblet as if he were swilling cheap ale from a mug. "I reckon not, dearheart. I reckon not."
Rubb, Zhandle, and Jouko had attended to their various errands, and waited anxiously at Vanderboren Manor for the return of Gauruloc so they could get down to the business of exacting revenge on Vanthus Vanderboren. However, it was not Gauruloc who followed a harried looking Kora Whistlegap into the dining hall that evening.
This new guest was a short and slender man, with long brown hair and beard to match. He was unkept, with dirt and other oddities stuck in his beard and beneath his fingernails. He moved rather lightly, although somewhat haphazardly. There was a roguish sparkle in his eye and a slight smile that spoke of mischief. His hands were in constant motion as he spoke. "Well, where be the Lady of the manor?"
"Sir, as I told you, the Lady has just returned from conducting important business. You can wait here with her retainers while I inquire as to her availability." Kora cast a furtive glance in Rubb's direction as she bustled away, her meaning as clear as if she had spoken the words aloud: "Please keep an eye on this one while I fetch the Lady."
"Hurry back, little one. I'm hear to speak of your Lady, but perhaps I've some business to discuss with you as well. I happen to know a brothel that would kill for a halfling lady of your buxom stature."
Rubbumba choked on his ale. Gasping and sputtering, he moaned, "Great! Just what we need around here. Another foul mouthed pirate."
Ta'Tarin Jin turned at the sound of Rubb's voice, but his lecherous gaze settled on Zhandle. "Ah, another wee one. An embarrassment of riches I've stumbled upon. May the gods strike me, ain't you a sweet thing! Forget that wrinkled old bag, a young prize like yourself will fetch more coin!"
Rubbumba placed his hand on his dagger and growled at the newcomer. Zhandle, attempting to simultaneously stand and straighten her robes, somehow managed to snag the hem of her garments under her chair. Fortunately, the ripping sound was masked by Rubb's loud challenge.
"That's my wife you are addressing, scoundrel!"
"Easy there, little one. I only be admiring what Olidammara saw fit to show me this fine day. I imagine the brothel would take you both, sort of a ... specialty act. What do you say?"
Jouko laughed happily as the scene unfolded. Rubb looked as if his head might explode, and Zhandle fussed over the tear in her robes, only managing to make the problem worse. She was contemplating making a clean rip that would leave her with a sort of mini-robe when Lavinia Vanderboren entered the room.
"Rubbumba, Zhandlegarrii, Jouko," she began. "It is good to have you back in my hall. Perhaps once Gauruloc and Verys arrive...."
"Beggin' yer pardon, Lady, but that's kind of why I'm here," interrupted the newcomer. "My Lady, may I present ... myself. Ta'Tarin Jin, master of all that there is to master, at your service."
"Great," Rubb mumbled beneath his breath. "Nothing screams adventure like a randomly placed apostrophe in one's name."
"Well, that is quite an impressive title," Lavinia replied.
"Thanks fer noticin', Lady," Ta'Tarin said with a bow. "Now, where was I, oh yes -- I have news of an orc that worked for you."
Lavinia frowned at the man's use of the past tense. "Continue."
"Ah, the orc, where be he anyway, late as usual," called Jouko merrily.
Ta'Tarin Jin ignored Jouko. "Well, not news really, more of a story. Well, not so much of a story, perhaps, more of ... hmmm, what is the word I'm looking for? Update? No, status ... no. Ah, well, nevermind. To make a long story short, he be dead."
Rubbumba sat bolt upright. "Dead?!"
"Oh, that poor, dumb orc," Zhandle sighed.
Lavinia was pallid. "Dead? Gauruloc? Are you quite certain?"
"Well, by dead I mean his life not be with us anymore. You know, the check his pockets for loose change type o' dead. So yes, then, I'm quite certain, unless he be the kind of orc who might fancy another man diggin' through his trousers." Ta'Tarin seemed to quickly consider and then discard the last possibility.
Jouko poured a little bit of his wine on the floor, then stood and raised his goblet. "Poor chap, I liked the gruff bastard. A drink to honor the dead!"
Lavinia appeared to be in no mood for a toast. "How did he meet his end?"
"Well, with all due respect, he was a bit on the stupid side," offered Zhandle sadly. "That probably did him in. Maybe he took a long walk off a short pier, or jumped from the tower of Castle Teraknian fancying he could fly? Or forgot to breathe, perhaps?"
Ta'Tarin Jin offered a slightly more plausible explanation. "It was the Lotus Dragons, Lady. Ta'Tarin Jin knows them all too well. His last dying breath was to warn you, and bid me bring you this note. Oh, and that I should take his fine silver dagger, yes, he did say that, too."
Jouko drained a goblet, plopped back down in his chair and poured another, humming some melancholy dirge of the sea. Lavinia read Gauruloc's note aloud: "You are being watched by the Lotus Dragons. Your questions will bring you misery -- it's best to sit back and let things happen as they will. Further interference will only bring you tears."
Zhandlegarrii sobbed. "Oh that's so sad, he was going to bring us a letter that he couldn't even read. That poor dumb orc was a true friend."
Ta'Tarin Jin smoothly stepped around the table to Zhandle's side, slipping a comforting arm about her. "It's all right, dear, you can cry on me." With deft hands, Ta'Tarin fished several gold and silver pieces from Zhandle's coin purse. Zhandle blew her nose on Ta'Tarin's sleeve. Outraged at Jin's casual familiarity with his wife, Rubbumba leapt out of his chair, jumped up and grabbed the man's arm. Both of his hands wrapped about Ta'Tarin's forearm, and the little halfling swung back and forth uselessly some three inches off the ground.
Oblivious to the antics unfolding in her hall, Lavinia lamented Gauruloc's fate. "This is horrible. First Johari, and now Gauruloc -- I had no idea where this all would lead."
"Don't forget Tight-Britches," Zhandle said, but her remark was cut off by the boisterous Jouko.
"See m'lady," began Jouko opportunistically, "'tis dangerous business this. I be riskin' my neck for ye. All I ask is a fair wage for riskin' me life. I has four kids ta feed, ya know."
Lavinia ignored the drunken sailor. "What more can you tell us about these Lotus Dragons and the fate of Gauruloc of Corellon?"
Ta'Tarin Jin began his tale, using his arms dramatically. On one particularly exaggerated flourish, Rubb lost his grip on the man's arm and fell to the floor. "The Lotus Dragons be bad folk, my lady. Ta'Tarin Jin will be happy to tell you about them, but 'tis a long story. Perhaps you'd like to sit?" The man slipped an arm about the small of Lavinia's back and escorted her to a chair. Ta'Tarin managed to discreetly pocket an expensive looking bracelet, one of three Lavinia wore on her arm.
Jouko called out to Kora. "He says it's a long tale. We'll be needin' more wine!"
"Oh, a story!" squealed Zhandle, momentarily forgetting her struggle with her robes and her sadness over Guaruloc's death.
Ta'Tarin Jin grabbed a chair and jumped atop it. "The tale begins in Shadowshore, where many of my friends be working hard. Honest work for sure, my lady. I mean we may borrow an item or two, but it's always what we need."
While Ta'Tarin spun his tale, Rubb helpfully steadied the chair for him. With a little hop, the halfling managed to reach into Ta'Tarin's pockets, determined to find out what this shady character was hiding. For his effort, Rubb retrieved a small handful of coins -- unbeknownst to him, the very same ones that Ta'Tarin had just filched from Zhandle's purse.
Disappointed that he did not find something incriminating, Rubb muttered impatiently. "So, Shadowshore. Hard work, and all that. Where are you going with this, pirate?"
"Ah yes. Well, some of we honest folk have been running into trouble with these Lotus Dragons, as they have moved in on our turf. By trouble I mean having their innards removed in not so nice ways. The Lotus Dragons fancy themselves guild of all guilds, see. Take what they did to old Keltar Islaran, for example. Eviscerated the dottering bastard. I haven't heard o' that since my friend Same caught his favorite gal with a dwarf and he -- well, nevermind that."
"Nasty business, that!" called Jouko merrily. By now, Zhandlegarrii was snoring loudly, traces of drool dripping from her chin. Kora Whistlegap returned with a tray laden with cheese, exotic fruits and a special treat -- chocolate from the Amedio Jungle. She also brought several large carafes of wine and coffee grown on the plantations surrounding Sasserine. Rubbumba grabbed a piece of chocolate and waved it under Zhandle's nose.
Ta'Tarin Jin went on. "Well, rumors has it, these Lotus Dragons smuggle beasts, or animals, or something. Wait -- is a beast an animal, are they one in the same? Why anyone would want to smuggle an animal is beyond me. Me, I'd smuggle chaste halfling ladies I would."
Zhandlegarrii came to with a start and slapped the chocolate from Rubb's hand. It went soaring, splatting across the painting of Vanthus Vanderboren. Jouko laughed until wine poured out of his nose.
Lavinia pondered Jin's tale. "Animal smugglers, eh? I wonder if that scoundrel Soller Vark was involved with this villainous lot?" As Rubb considered the possible connection between the Lotus Dragons and Vark, Zhandle made short work of the Amedian chocolates.
"There was a nasty beastie aboard the Blue Nixie, all right," Jouko chimed.
"I don't know no Vark, but it is rumored the Dragons are in bed with a noble family," Jin said with a wink.
Lavinia appeared shocked. "I do not believe it!"
"You'd be surprised who gets into bed with who, my lady," Ta'Tarin said with a perverse gleam in his eye. "Why one night at the Last Ditch Lovers there was an orc and dwarf -- I mean, I wouldn't believe it if I hadn't paid -- I mean seen it myself."
Rubb guffawed, showing the first inkling of humor to creep into him all evening. Then, seeing an opportunity to seize the limelight from Ta'Tarin, he blurted out. "We have proof that the Lotus Dragons operate from the Taxidermist's Hall in Sunrise District!"
"Well," interrupted Ta'Tarin Jin, "it just so happens that the big orc was killed in Dead Dog Plaza, right by the Taxidermist's Hall. I remember it like 'twere yesterday. In fact, it were earlier this eve! Oldest trick in the book. A boy tries to take the orc's purse, but gets caught and runs, thus having the mark, your orc, give chase. Well, the urchin leads your fella right inta Dead Dog Alley. And there he's met by a volley of Lotus Dragon bolts...."
Rubbumba boldly cut Ta'Tarin off. "Have we all lost our nerve? Upon our escape from that zombie infested island, I thought we had committed ourselves to come here and tell the Lady that we are faced with the unfortunate task of hunting her brother down!"
Jouko scratched his chin. "Well, didn't seem the opportune time to tell her, what with her just gettin' back from business. And hearing o' yer own brother's murderous treachery, well, that's the sort of thing that might spoil one's supper."
Lavinia turned on Rubb and Jouko. "What are you talking about? I know Vanthus has fallen in with a bad crowd, but you speak as if you mean him dead."
Rubb summoned all his resolve. "Yes, I'm afraid I do mean him dead, Lady. He has done more than fall in with a bad crowd. He is evil, that brother of yours. An opportunist and a murderer of the worst sort, I'm afraid. Jouko, show her the note from Penkus. Tell her what we endured at the hands of her brother! Tell her about Verys, and the -- you know, the elf guts!"
Jouko pulled Penkus' parchment from his vest pocket and tosses it onto the table. Realizing no one was paying attention to his story, Ta'Tarin Jin plopped down in his chair and snatched a nearby goblet of wine.
Lavinia's expression turned from shock to despair as she read Penkus' damning indictment of her brother. "This is horrible. If this is all true -- yet, I cannot admit to myself that Vanthus is beyond redemption. Follow every lead. Work with this man, Mister Jin, he seems to know much of these Lotus Dragons. Crush them, and bring my brother back alive. If he makes this impossible, though -- I only ask that his death be merciful and quick."
Rubbumba nodded. "It is all true. The blood of Verys is on Vanthus' hands, Lady Lavinia. And, if not for -- uh, well, for the uh -- 'heroics' of the pirate here, the rest of us would be dead or dying now as well."
Ta'Tarin Jin smiled slyly at Lavinia. "I accept yer offer, lady. I recall hearing something about a retainer...." Then, with a sideways glance at Zhandle, he whispered, "Whatever she's payin', we could make ten times that at the brothel, my dear." Zhandle displayed uncanny accuracy in spite of her usual clumsiness. In her trembling hands, a salad fork became a deadly instrument, flying unerringly across the table and striking Ta'Tarin Jin, tines first, right in the tender man-parts. Ta'Tarin doubled over in pain, and Jouko roared with laughter.
"Deserved, wee lady, deserved, but perhaps you would be so kind," Ta'Tarin hissed through clenched teeth, "as to kiss it and make it better?"
Lavinia surprised everyone with the severity of her voice. "Enough! There will be no more fighting, solicitation, brawling, boozing, or scandalous talk in my hall this night!"
"Well then," hiccupped Jouko, "I must bid you good evening."
"Yes, the hour grows late, Lady," said Rubbumba grimly. "We know our task. We'll find your brother. Dead or alive, we'll bring him back to you."
Excellent, most enjoyable characterizations. I do look forward to the male hobbit's descent into raving psychosis followed shortly by battle axe proficiency. ^_^
I too enjoy this journal! I have noticed a good number of PC deaths in the story line... good information for when I run the STAP.
Great characters Bad Dates! Always a fun read!
Whatever happened to this one?
Blast you for bumping this thread and getting my hopes up. (grimace)
Just guessing, but...
Lately, it's become impossible to get the whole group together on Fantasy Grounds II at one time, so Gauruloc and Verys' players agreed to drop out of the ST game.
If their scheduling problems got any worse, they might have been forced to drop the campaign altogether.