This past Sunday marked the beginning of our Styes based horror campaign. A warning to anyone reading this: their are mature themes ahead. Younger Paizo members and those that don't like dark fantasy that includes drug addiction (sometimes even among minors), prostitution and various R to NC-17 rated subjects should not read any further. I'm not trying to shock anyone and I don't consider using these subjects in a gratuitous manner; this is a horror game, set in Richard Pett's Styes run for a group of players from the age of 22 to 25. There won't be anything ridiculously terrible described in ghoulish detail, but I respect everyone on the boards and I want to avoid any complaints, especially from parents.
The game begins in the parlor of Mama Santina, a "mystic" of Flotsam. Each character has come to Mama for information that they have failed to find elsewhere.
Our cast of "heroes":
Edward- A dashing half-elven sorcerer, Edward is seeking the cause of a family curse. Any member of his bloodline, traced all the way back to his Elven ancestor (the elves disappeared from my setting a long time ago, the reasons for said disappearance being a subject of heated debate), upon having children immediately becomes obsessed with the long abandoned family estate and must return there, foregoing sleep and food in their single-minded attempts. Since his sister is pregnant, Edward is determined to get to the bottom of this curse before it's too late.
Karak- One of the Collectors of the Styes, this Kenku Rogue is tight-lipped (or beaked) about his reasons for visiting Mama Santina. His question must be particularly obscure if one of the paranoid, shunned and reviled Collectors is the one doing the asking, rather than the finding.
Tybalt- This Hellbred Paladin's flesh is covered in patches of green scales with a pair of great horns rising from his brow. He speaks little, and when he does, it is always quick and to the point. Tybalt awoke several weeks prior to the first session on a slab in the Mortuary, surrounded by grey robed "morticians" of dubious character. Once he arose, he realized that he had few previous memories of his life beyond his time in Hell and the Scourging that left him changed, body and soul. He seeks nothing less than redemption, but the only way he can know how to change what evil he wrought in his previous life is by knowing who he was in that previous life, which is why he came to Mama Santina.
The first session begins with all of the characters arriving, in order of initiative, to Mama Santina's home in Flotsam. She has asked each party member to meet with her at the same time, in order to discuss their inquiries.
(I plan on posting portraits of each character when I have them ready; it may be a little while, though.)
What a great idea for the initial meeting, James! So much more compelling a reason than the tired tavern meeting to throw in one's fate with characters of such diverse race, profession, and background. Their fates are thus tied together.
And I've been obsessed with the Styes ever since Pett's first adventure appeared in Dungeon. Never had a chance to run anything there, however, so I look forward to your interpretation.
The Missing Twins and The Obsessive Haberdasher
Mama Santina's home sits, like many homes in Flotsam, on a foundation of mildewed sinking wood that was once what many in the Low Quarter consider "habitable". The rickety stairs to her door lead past many a passed-out or dead drunkard or addict, common vermin and trash. Mama's home is built of wood, brick and mortar; anything that was at hand at the time of construction. Within, however, is what passes for a palace in Flotsam: glass in all of the windows, clean (if worn) furnishings, and a working wood stove with a chimney piping smoke outside. Her home is one large room, sectioned off with various rugs and curtains. The fact that Mama Santina can aquire and, most importantly, keep these things is a testament to the respect she is accorded by her neighbours.
Mama Santina is considered blessed by the gods by the wretches and degenerates of Flotsam and she plays her reputation up for all it's worth, acting as fortune teller to the naive and credulous as well as information broker and confidant to those with a little more dust on their boots and sense in their heads. From her little home, Mama Santina sits in a web of information that stretches from her neighbourhood out into the world beyond the once auspicious Styes.
After each character has seated himself before her oaken table, Mama Santina sets out a chipped cup and some bitter tea for each of them. Mama is a woman with a face marred by age and hard living, wrinkled and weathered, bowed by age; with her turban she is only about five feet in height. However, her hands move with blinding speed as she lays out tarot cards in complicated, arcane patterns as she speaks to the gathered PCs.
"Each of you has come to me with a pressing question; a special question. And while I do possess answers for you, after a fashion, I must ask for an unusual payment in return for an unusual answer. I do not seek money, but instead I must ask a boon of the three of you: my twin sons, the Tancredi, have disappeared. Whether they have been abducted, or lost among the crowds teeming below or have simply decided to abandon their poor, worried old mother is unknown to me. I have gone to their favorite places and asked after them, but no one has information for me. They may, however, have information for YOU. It is possible that they simply had no information, but I think it more likely that these people simply did not want to tell this old woman something she would not like hearing about her precious boys. Please, go Morris' Tops (their favorite hat store), the soup kitchen by Blind Man's Alley and the Mouldering Chapel on Flotsam's western shore and ask after my boys. Someone in those places must know where they are."
Edward inquired,"What do the twins look like, that we might identify them once we see them?"
Mama Santina replied,"The right Tancredi is blonde haired and blue eyed: he smiles often and favors romantic hats with broad brims. The left Tancredi is dark in complexion and demeanor: he has curly brown hair and favors a workman's cap. They are inseperable; you will find them together."
After a final exhortation to drink their tea ("Keeps you healthy! How do you think I got to be this age?") the unlikely trio stepped out onto the boardwalked Low Quarter. Morris' Tops was the closest, so the investigators headed across the various ladders, rooftops and rope bridges to reach the haberdasher's home/shop.
Morris' Tops is a tiny, decrepit shop. The glass in the door (what there is of it) looks as if it hasn't been cleaned for a generation. A makeshift bell made up of an old bucket and some assortment of small objects rings when the characters enter. Within is a tiny room with shelves full of mannequin heads and a counter on the furthest end, complete with a sheaf of paper and an inkwell.
The mannequin heads are an assortment of once life-like porcelain models and what are clearly burlap sacks stuffed with straw and sewn shut to resemble heads. All manner of hat are on display: top hats, berets, broad-brimmed and feathered hats, bowlers, bonnets, etc. A voice from behind a curtain behind the counter yells,"I'm coming." Sounds of dishware and hurrying can be heard.
While the characters have a moment alone with the store, Karak picks up the sheaf of paper to examine it, but notes that it is blank. Taking a page from The Big Lebowski, the Kenku rubs a handy piece of charcoal over the surface of the top page to reveal....
A receipt for a custom bowler.
Karak stuffs the piece of paper into his pouch as Morris, owner and proprietor of Morris' tops enters the shop.
"Greetings,"Morris begins before catching sight of the horned Hellbred and the Kenku,"...gentlemen. I'm Morris and welcome to my shop, what can I get for you today? We have some excellent rates on custom hats, always happy to take in existing hats for a refitting! Nothing completes an outfit like a fine hat! Take this top hat, for instance..."
Edward manages to cut in,"Well, yes, we're uh, actually not looking for a hat right now. Have you see the twin boys known as the Tancredi?"
"Oh, yes, they would come by fairly often. Those two know some great hats when they see them and they know that nothing completes an outfit like a fine hat! Take the stitchwork on this bowler for instance. Exquisite! If you don't see what you're looking for on the shelf, I can make custom hats for surprisingly affordable prices!"
"Yeah, we'll definitely take a good look. So do the boys come in fairly often?"
"Every two weeks or so to buy new hats, though I haven't seen them lately. What do you think of this bolt of cloth? A very fine color, if you ask me..."
By this point, Tybalt had had enough. He stepped up to the little haberdasher, gave him a good hard stare and said,"I'll buy a hat later; I need some information on the Tancredi. Now."
Morris quavered. Sweat beaded his brow and he began to stutter. "Well, like I said, the boys came in pretty regularly up until a week, maybe two weeks ago. Some folks say that their Mama was blessed to have 'em, but sometimes I wonder if they may be a curse. The right one's nice and pleasant of course, but that left one is just a rotten monster. Leering and spitting and swearing, always slapping his brother and calling him names. They used to spend plenty of coin here-"
"Where'd they get it?"
"Allowance from their Mama, most likely. I never seen 'em work, though they mentioned they head down to the soup kitchen every now and then. But I heard that they've found new ways to spend their money, hanging around a pretty wild crowd."
"What do you mean by a 'pretty wild crowd'?,"asked Edward.
"It's just a rumor, really. Hearsay. We ain't friends, the boys an' me; it's usually strictly business. Hats is the only way they can really dress as individuals, you know, so they buy a lot of them. I didn't want to mention it to their mom; it's just a rumor as far as I know. But they haven't been here in a week or so, like I said."
As the sweating haberdasher finished his account, the three investigators weighed his words, looking for any kind of falsehood. Though he was nervous, they concluded that he likely knew little else and decided to continue on to the next lead: the soup kitchen.
More on the introductory adventure later.
Thanks, guys. I would be honored if you would mine ideas from my humble campaign. I've stolen this whole first session intro adventure from a short story (that I've admittedly taken a whole lot of artistic license with) and any number of other sources.
The first game went super well; I had designed it as mostly talking and investigation to give the characters a teensy bit of experience before I run Escape from Meenlock Prison (only three players and I'm not yet sure if I want to introduce a DMNPC, likely a divine caster). This turned out to be lucky because I realized I lost my dice and DM screen just before running the adventure! I managed to scrounge up two d20s and a d4 for the game (because my players, of course, neglected to bring their own dice) and it was enough.
Plus, this first adventure with mostly low-level NPCs in awe of their strangeness and totally intimidated by the PCs is a good way to inflate their egos before crushing it with some spine-tingling horror!
Awesome James. I too have been playing with the idea of running a horror based campaign using The Styes and a couple of other Dungeon adventures that I've seen you mention on the boards ... mind if I mine this journal for ideas?
If you do that as a PbP, count me in... ;-)
Inquiries at the soup kitchen.
After leaving the haberdasher's store, the investigators decided to head toward the soup kitchen since the Tancredi had apparently worked there. As they approached the squat brick building, resplendent in graffiti, the PCs couldn't help but notice a large crowd gathered in Blind Man's Alley. The gathering seemed to consist mostly of young boys between the ages of thirteen and sixteen. One camp of boys had faces covered in gray ash, the other seemed to have burlap sacks, stuffed with straw or a similar filling, tied to one shoulder of their threadbare shirts. This dummy head lolled and flopped almost drunkenly on the boys' shoulders as they jostled and jeered at the other group. They formed a semicircle, with two boys (one from each camp) in the center, knives out and circling one another. The sharp-eyed PCs spotted two grey robed figures off to the side with a cart (which Tybalt identified as Mortuary workers) as well as two conspicuous groups of men. The first group of men was dressed in chainmail barely concealed by leather aprons and coats. Each had a white bandage tied around an arm and each was armed with a truncheon or similar weapon. A good distance away from that party of men was a group whose faces were covered in savage face paint in strange patterns. These men were clearly locals, but they had bits of bone and other ornaments pierced through their noses, ears, lips and armor as if they were part of some barbarian tribe or something. None of the characters recognized them, so as the boys grappled and fought in the center, the characters approached the Mortuary workers. Tybalt decided to handle the talking, since he was somewhat familiar with the grey-robed ghouls.
"What's going on here?",he asked.
"Seems to be an arguement, likely over a girl or something equally childish. We're just here for clean-up.",replied the bored looking mortician.
"Why do those boys have sacks sewn to their shoulders?"
"Eh, some weird youth gang thing. Each one has a little affectation or another, much like the older crime gangs."
"What can you tell me about the men here?"
The mortician looked at Tybalt for a moment. "Better not to talk about that. Folks like them prefer their privacy."
"I'm not asking for their life stories, I just want to know who they are and it seems to me like you know something about it." (Diplomacy or Intimidate check: success)
"Hmph. The men with the face paint are part of Shylocke's gang. The blokes with the bandages work for Hamfist. Hamfist is a Commisure (golem-maker/physician) here in Flotsam that's unofficially got his hands in some sly activities. Shylocke's another crimelord from this area."
"Why are they watching the kids?"
"Likely looking for good recruits. Kid shows off in front of these guys, makes a good impression, he moves up the social ladder. Don't you know anything?"
Before Tybalt could reply, the ashen faced boy managed to stab his opponent, who crumpled to the mud in a tangled mass. The grey-faced boys hollered and hoorayed the victor, while the sackheads booed and jeered. The Mortuary workers went into the center to grab the boy and bring him to the wagon. Before they could leave with him, Tybalt reached over and checked the lad's pulse: still alive, if only barely.
"Hey! He's still alive!"
"So? He'll be dead soon."
Edward and Tybalt stared down the morticians, who moved aside reluctantly. Tybalt bent over the lad with some bandages and went to work on his wound. After a few moments, the Hellbred concluded that the boy would live, though he was still unconscious. Karak clucked with some slight disapproval for the paladin's interference, though this was largely ignored.
As the mortuary workers left with their empty cart, two larger boys from the sackhead gang approached to take their comrade. Edward hazarded a quick question,"Why do you have those sacks sewn on your shirts?"
One of the older boys replied,"We do it to be like our leader. You got a problem?"
A realization dawned on the PCs. "No problem at all; do you think we could meet with your leader?"
"Well, I dunno..."
"We saved your pal's life. He should want to talk with us.",said Tybalt.
"I'll ask if it's okay. I'll meet you back here if it is, or maybe I won't."
With that, the boys departed.
Now that the alley was empty, the characters took a good look at the soup kitchen. It was a small brick building with no windows, almost completely covered in graffiti: from drawings of soup bowls, to lewd depictions of sex acts, to some random strings of spirals. Karak managed to spot one portion that seemed to be scrubbed clean, with the barest impression that it was at one time a rude comment about someone named Hamfist.
The rickety wooden doors creaked as they swiveled open to reveal a bare room with several rows of wooden tables crowded with stinking, desperate people spooning meager portions of broth into their quivering mouths, occasionaly stopping to take a bite of stale bread or a sip of watery tea. A long line lead from the door to a small table where a middle-aged woman and a half-orc man almost seven feet in height were ladling out soup, tea and bread. Edward and Karak headed out among the tables to see if they could spot the Tancredi while Tybalt grabbed a spot in line in order to speak with the proprietors. The half-elf and the kenku were having little luck in their search when Tybalt finally made it to the front of the line.
The woman took a look at him: horns, scaly flesh, red eyes, scale mail and longsword. She blanched slightly, but nonetheless spooned him out a bowl of broth. Tybalt said,"Pardon me, but do the Tancredi work here? Their mother sent me and my associates to look for them."
"The twins are in here once in a while; sometimes they come in every other day, other times it's once a week. My name is Siobhan and I run the kitchen with my associate Murgo (she gestured to the huge half-orc with the puckered scar across his face next to her). The boys can be a handful sometimes. The right one is always a pleasure to work with: always has a smile for anyone looking for food, willing to help out, so polite. The left one seems to always be in a sulk if he isn't abusing his twin. I don't know why he even bothers to come in, beyond the obvious reasons--"
A fight broke out at one of the tables while Siobhan was talking, punches were thrown and the situation looked like it could escalate very quickly based on how agitated some of the other diners were becoming. Siobhan sighed and gave Murgo a weary glance. Murgo nodded and took off to break up the fight.
"It's been about two weeks since they've been around, though I told their Mama that I didn't find that all that unusual. They didn't really talk to me that much, but it seems like they chatted with Murgo a bit outside of work. It even seems like the left one gets along pretty well with the big lug, though I can't imagine why or how. Maybe you can ask him about the boys while he's cleaning up."
Tybalt nodded, thanked Siobhan and handed her two gold coins as a donation. She blushed and nodded her gratitude, quickly slipping the coins away to avoid unwanted attention.
Murgo was mopping up spilled soup and gathering the used bowls when Tybalt approach. As he walked forward, the Hellbred noticed that Murgo was having a whispered conversation with someone, though he couldn't quite tell who.
"I'm told you know something about the Tancredi, maybe you can point me to their current whereabouts."
"Who's askin', eh? And why?"
"My name is Tybalt and these are my associates Edward and Karak. Their mother is worried about them, since they haven't been home in a while. She sent us out to find them."
The half-orc gave Tybalt a doubtful look.
"Yeh say yer werkin fer Mama, huh? I ain't buyen et. Ain't nev'r seen you lot aroun' here, 'specially not werkin fer Mama Santina. Twins wouldn' want me yakkin' anyway. Stranger, 'round here it best ta keep yer own binness and leave folks ta theirs."
Tybalt gave Murgo another hard stare with those hellish red eyes. His horned brow furrowed in consternation as he looked up at the scarred half-orc.
"You'd better tell me." was all he said, but his tone was pregnant with tension and his shoulders were squared, his fists clenched. He let the barest hiss into his inflection, the slightest bit of impatience.
Though the diners continued to eat, all their attention was on the two men now. Even if they couldn't hear, even with their eyes studiously averted, the huddled mass of soup kitchen patrons knew a volatile situation when they saw one. For one moment, the entire building was on edge as the two men locked eyes. Then, Murgo started talking.
"Deh twins talk ta me when we werk, jest shootin deh bull. Deh left twin, he innersted en deh crimelords 'round here. Easy jink, gurls, dog eat dog. Dat may be deh story wit' dem punks outside. He allso spill 'bout seein dis hoor down Petticoat Lane, name a Sbrega. Dunno where zactly; ain't ne'er been down der."
"Where do they get the money? And just how old are these kids?"
Murgo shrugged. "Dunno. Mebbe steals, mebbe jink from Mama. Dey mebbe...ten 'n six t'gether, ten 'n sev'n t'gether."
From here, the party deliberated for a short time. Petticoat Lane, it turned out, was the shore in Flotsam opposite the Merchant's District's north shore. Heavily trafficked red light district: it would take some time to find one "escort" among all the other prostitutes there. The party decided to wait a bit for their youth gang contact, but after about a half an hour and being solicited by a pusher, they decided to head for the chapel first and then "hit up" Petticoat Lane.
Next section tomorrow.
Very cool stuff so far James. Very Styes. Very New Crobuzon too for that matter!
So is your Styes a town unto itself, or a district of a larger city?
It's kind of part of a larger city: here's an excerpt from the player's hand-out on setting.
The City Across the Bridge
The Merchant’s Quarter and High Quarter each boast bridges south to the other city, Indar. Once, the Styes were the large port district of Indar. Now, however, the two may as well be separate places entirely. To enter Indar, one must possess a special token, which changes every month. A group of sentries on the Indar side of the bridge must examine the token before one is allowed access to the Styes’ sister city. Once across the bridges, a visitor will notice that Indar is almost compulsively clean; the streets are free of debris (and usually pedestrians) and the buildings are spotless. The only thing that mars Indar is the ever-encroaching smog of the Styes to the north. Gardens bloom throughout the spring and smartly dressed Indar Watch members patrol the streets regularly. There is an upscale theatre and a great many tailors, silversmiths and various other shops. Over the entirety of Indar rises the Silver Spire; the home of the Indar Parliament. Almost every noble family and affluent merchant on this side of the bridge has a friend or family member on the Parliament. A cathedral dedicated to St. Cuthbert and staffed by a high priest also sits near the center of Indar, with affluence and pageantry to rival the Silver Spire. In this way, the Styes and Indar are two completely separate entities. In theory.
In truth, Indar is more reliant on the Styes than vice versa. For one thing, the only port the two cities have is the Styes’ Merchants’ Quarter. The spurs of rock on the Indar side of the bay prevents any ships from approaching on that side. Secondly, much of the population of Indar are middle aged or older; people that may have once lived in the Styes before it became what it is today and had the money to move out. The community is so expensive (since goods must be taxed at the Styes and then once more coming over the bridge to Indar) that younger couples and those just out of the countryside have no real hope of ever settling there. Even laborers and servants must be imported from the countryside. Indar is beautiful to look upon, but it is paralyzed and sliding further and further into decline.
Outside of the Two Cities
To the east and south of the Styes and Indar are numerous small, rural communities nestled in the misty hills and vales around the East Wood. These places provide much of the agriculture that the Styes and Indar need to support themselves, though country folk loathe both places. Here in the outskirts, at least, a man can find a few honest folk and the land rewards those that are good to her. A spiritual life is more common here than in the Styes, with many small local churches dedicated to Pelor, Ehlonna, St. Cuthbert and Yondalla, among others.
The East Wood is a sprawling forest teeming with life. Some whisper that the fey still dwell within and the great many stone menhirs speak of the druidic Old Religion’s former grasp on the region. Goblinoids and orcs are known to roam in its depths and there are a number of old elven manor houses, either bereft of their occupants after the elves abandoned this world in ancient times or taken up by their half-elven descendents.
I wanted to set up a few adventures before the campaign even began: The Twilight Tomb (which will be modified a bit), The Automatic Hound, And Madness Followed, The Styes and The Weavers in particular. I want to use Shut In (since my players enjoy the change of pace a talky adventure provides to hack adventures) and Salvage Operation, but I can only really choose one since I want to run Escape From Meenlock Prison as well. Both have elements I want to use and tie to my PCs' backstories.
I stole a lot of ideas from China Mieville: the soup kitchen (and the invisible strings attached to it) is almost straight out of Iron Council. K.J. Bishop's The Etched City provided the inspiration for the fight in the alley. The haberdasher even had a little side adventure nestled into his shop that the PCs passed up completely because they just weren't curious enough.
And Heath, honestly, I'm a little worried. I wouldn't want your children calling me up, talking about how daddy keeps asking all these awkward questions about the big bad world that they simply don't think you can handle the answers for. But you're a big boy now and you can make your own decisions.
If you're keeping track, this is the third part of the first session's intro adventure for the first level characters.
Bats In the Belfry
The trio departed the soup kitchen to examine the run-down church before heading to Sbrega's place on Petticoat Lane. The chapel had obviously seen better days. Shards of stained glass still clung to the edges of those once proud windows, their content and the deity they originally glorified now lost to time. The top of the bell tower had long since collapsed, apparently directly onto the roof below. Graffiti marred the solemn brick walls and the stench of the spitting gray sea was everywhere.
Propped beside the makeshift door was a piece of driftwood that had been crudely scrawled with the image of a fist holding a lightning bolt. The investigators exchanged glances as they knocked upon the wooden door. No response came, though Karak and Edward's keen ears detected hurried, furtive movement. Sensing a trap, Tybalt lead the way in.
Dapples of nervous light slanted through the broken ceiling of the old chapel. Rows of pews lay fractured and broken amidst the debris-strewn floor and shadows clung to every alcove. The place stank even worse than the sea outside and a quick glance about noted that there seemed to be nests of rags positioned throughout the building. Quite a few people were living there, and this became more than certain as the PCs noticed more than ten rag-clad and filthy people hiding in the chapel, each cluching a thorny switch. At the pulpet opposite the door a rail thin man with long grey hair spoke with a booming, adled voice while gesticulating with a spyglass.
"Behold, my faithful bretheren!! The DEVIL has sent his foul minions to vex Heironeous' liberated flock!!!! GAZE upon their disgusting, unholy forms and weep for their DAMNATION!! I address you now, Devils! We will not suffer your taintiferated presence to BEFOUL this most SANCTITUDIMOUS sanctuary! Gird your hearts with RIGHTEOUSNESS, my bretheren and let us EXPEL these agents of the Enemy!!"
With loud appeals to Heironeous, the assembled congregation set upon the trio with their thorny switches! Though the switches did not damage the investigators in any fatal way, the nettles could draw blood and send one into unconsciousness with enough continued abuse. Throughout the melee, the "priest" climbed into the rafters above to rain rocks, debris and invective upon the adventurers. Reluctantly, Tybalt punched the parishoners that made to attack him, sending his first assailant to the ground with just one strike. This gave the other assembled congregants pause enough to provide Karak with an opening; the Raven-kith lunged at one of the destitute assailants and slashed with his sharp claws. The man yelped and sprawled to the debris-strewn floor and scrambled away. Words of arcane power issued from Edward's throat and three of Tybalt's assailants fell sleeping to the floor.
"Devils!", shouted the crazed Mordecai in the rafters above,"Tell your wicked master that Mordecai and his RIGHTEOUS followers will not suffer him to continue his wicked work! We shall burn his STRONGHOLD to the GROUND!! DO YOU HEAR ME, ABOMINATIONS!!"
Though Mordecai continued his abuse from above, his followers had lost all interest in battle. Those not asleep or unconscious were beginning to flee screaming through the empty windows, praying for protection from the Invincible One.
Soon, it was only Mordecai in the rafters, throwin down rocks, bits of wood and anything else at hand. Edward and Tybalt appealed to him to come down, to speak. They asked about the twins. But Mordecai simply continued his ravings and shower of debris.
Finally, Karak had had enough. After shooting a crossbow bolt as a warning to the lunatic, the kenku picked up a rock and hurled it at the man in the balcony. The rock hit home with great accuracy, causing the man to plummet from the rafters to the floor below; dislocating an arm in the process.
Tybalt attempted to restrain him, to prevent him from hurting himself further or fleeing, but Mordecai fought and bit and continued his ravings.
"He protects me, my Lord protects me. Trantor's minions, you know not with whom you proliferate this day!! His SPLENDITUDE, Heironeous will not allow His chosen to be harmed by the likes of you!!"
Karak grabbed the madman's ratty spyglass and attempted to wrest it from the lunatic's hands.
"Karak!", Edward admonished,"Leave the glass, we're trying to get information from him!"
"It's a bargaining chip!", replied Karak, struggling and rolling with Mordecai on the chapel floor,"We get this, we can get him to spill! Or do YOU have a better idea?!"
Finally, Mordecai won out in the desperate struggle. The two rolled away from each other through the debris and before anyone could move, the madman was out the window with his spyglass, praising Heironeous the whole time.
Having lost the leader of the congregation, the trio then turned to one of the sleeping parishoners. A quick jostle awoke the filthy, rag-clad man. His eyes widened in fear and his filthy brow was awash in sweat as he stared into Tybalt's hellish red eyes as the inscrutable Karak and the silent Edward looked on.
"We're hear looking for twin boys, named the Tancredi,"said Tybalt,"One is blonde and wears broad-brimmed hats and the other is dark-haired with a workman's cap. Have you seen them?"
"Y-yes. The-the little devils come 'round once every now and then. Throwing rocks into the chapel with one arm and cursing us with one mouth while apologizing constantly with the other. P-please, please don't kill me."
With a look of weary pity, Tybalt released the man. Karak's cold avian eyes remained unreadable.
Petticoat Lane
Petticoat Lane is the strip of brothels, tenements, drinking halls and opium dens on the Flotsam side of a canal running between the Low Quarter and the Merchant's Quarter. In the lurid red light cast by tinted lanterns kept glowing throughout the day and night the boardwalk teems with sailors on shore leave, merchants haggling with prostitutes, pimps and pushers eyeing the crowds for potential customers, young boys and girls running back and forth with packages and masked Indarans holding perfumed kerchiefs to their noses, bodyguards in tow. A scent of burning meat and hash bellows from street vendors' stalls as toughs in peacock feather coats stand in circles, cracking their knuckles languidly and sucking on pipes smelling of poppies. Promises and proposals float above the din of the crowd. The only color to rival the dresses of the painted dollyboys in their garish hues are the petticoats hanging in many windows like curtains, announcing a varicolored and nuanced code that you cannot quite decipher, like the barely coherent ramblings of a drunk hollering at the moon.
On this stretch of boardwalk where flesh and more is bought and sold, Edward began asking questions, seeking Sbrega the whore. Three hours of asking about; fending off pimps, prostitutes, dealers and overzealous hired muscle, the investigators found themselves before a modest wooden door on the boardwalk level. Red petticoats hung from the window; one pair with a pattern of flowers, the other with cherries. With resigned trepidation, Edward knocked on the door.
After a moment's wait, the door opened inwardly and out stepped what must have been Sbrega. She was a robust woman with wide hips, a heavy chest and belly. Her hair was bound sloppily atop her head by red ribbon and caked-on rouge and kohl could not disguise the cynical weariness in her eyes. She wore a purple corset, a loose blouse and a slip of a skirt. None of her laces were done up completely. She took a long drag of her ciggarette as she looked over the assembled adventurers.
"Gods, you take one freak and they all come callin'!,"she practically spat. Sbrega pointed first at Tybalt and said,"Alright, gruesome, for you it's going to be double the normal price and I want the jink up front. Birdfeed, you're going to be triple 'cause I prolly need special equipment for you." Finally, she turned her jaundiced eye on Edward and a brief sparkle could be seen there. "I can probably give you a discount, handsome. I don't have group rates; if that's what you're lookin' for, find a petticoat with grapes, any color. Now, money out: who's first?"
After sidelong glances back and forth, Edward spoke.
"Perhaps some other time. Right now, we have a few questions. We were told that the Tancredi were clients of yours; do you know where they are now?"
"I'd love to tell you, darlin', but I'm afraid my pimp's given me his final warning about flapping my jaw for free. I'm gonna need a bit 'o jink, just to keep him happy, you unnerstand?"
Edward handed her a few coins. "The Tacredi. Do you know where they are?"
The coins disappeared almost as quickly as they were offered. The investigators tried not to imagine to where.
"Yeah, I know where the twins are. They came around last night, for the usual."
"How are they getting the money to pay you, exactly?"
"At first, it was prolly money they got from their Mama, though I doubt she knew it was headed into MY hands. They ran out pretty quick an' I told 'em if they didn't come up with some they would have to talk to my boss, which I'm sure they wouldn't have liked. The left one was pretty upset about that, and I think the right one may have been too. He tried to pretend he wasn'..."
"OKAY! So, what happened next?",interjected Edward.
"I told 'em, since the right 'un wouldn't allow any stealing, I could introduce 'em to my pimp's buddy; Horatio Quigley, the freak show owner. I figured Quigley'd have a job for 'em, and I was right. Snatched 'em right up, with a nice little finder's fee for me. Now they got plenty o' jink. Quigley's taken a shine to the boys, thinks they'll put him on the map again."
"Where can we find Quigley and the twins?"
Sbrega took one last drag on her ciggarette and crushed it out beneath her heel. "Since they ain't on the road, Quigley's taken up in this old mansion opposite Slapsticker's Gloom. You're gonna take a left out my door, follow the Lane to the end, then take another left. Slapsticker's Gloom is up that way."
The adventurers thanked the "escort" and headed in the direction of Slapsticker's Gloom and, they hoped, the lost Tancredi.
So these twins, ** spoiler omitted ** Or do I just need to wait like everyone else?
I just grabbed Quigley and the show. As much as I like Devil Box, I've got too many good adventures to run and enough Pett material to last a while.
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So these twins, ** spoiler omitted ** Or do I just need to wait like everyone else?** spoiler omitted **
I just grabbed Quigley and the show. As much as I like Devil Box, I've got too many good adventures to run and enough Pett material to last a while.
It's a good adventure, but the show was certainly my favourite part - and the part that's easiest to strip the comedic element from and just make downright creepy!
This will be the last entry on the first session. I wrote this up earlier today, but the post got swallowed, of course, on the only occasion where I didn't copy the whole thing first. Lesson learned. We play tomorrow night and I'm thinking Escape From Meenlock Prison.
The Tancredi
The crushing crowds of prostitutes and johns of various persuasions subsided into a different crowd of Professors (street puppeteers) and their patrons. The fit-up suits of the street performers were sometimes three deep on the boardwalk by Slapsticker's Gloom and it was an agonizingly slow (and paranoid; pickpockets everywhere) walk to Quigley's curiously striped Mansion of Freaks, opposite the vast market of Slapsticker's Gloom.
The trio of investigators deliberated across the street. Quigley's house was guarded by a duo of thugs, not to mention those youth gang kids with the burlap sacks sewn on their shoulders. Karak slipped into the shadows and slipped around every side of the house. The raven-kith came to a few conclusions. 1. It wasn't so tightly secured that he couldn't slip in, however, 2. fat chance of getting the paladin in with his bulky armor and "morals". 3.When he did get in, how would he get the kids out, all by himself? Karak decided that stealth wouldn't be a viable course of action, and said as much to his comrades of convenience. Their creativity stumped, the trio just decided to approach the front door and play it by ear.
Quigley's thugs stared at the Kenku and Hellbred as the trio approached. Once they reached the door, one of them said,"Wow. You two are pretty scary. You here to audition?"
Edward responded,"Uh, yeah, yeah they are. I'm their manager."
The greasy thug nodded,"Do theys got any, you know, talents?"
"Of course, of course.",said the quick-thinking half-elf,"Quigley's eyes only, though. You know, want to maintain the surprise."
The thug nodded again. "Awright, follow me, then."
Into the dilapidated mansion they went, passing all manner of displays. Genuine Shrunken Head From the Grimlocks of Shadow Vale. Beholder Eyeballs. The Incredible Five-legged Cow. The Tragic Jar of Asphyxiated Pixies.
Their guide lead them to a waiting room at the front of the house. The place was piled with curtains, cushions stained with nameless and forgotten substances dumped about on the floor and slanted couch. A large water pipe sat on a table in the center. Quigley's man placed a hot coal and some pungent herbs into it as he left, telling the "performers" that Mr. Quigley would be in shortly.
After the man was out of earshot, Edward turned to his companions.
"Okay,"he said,"What talents have you guys got. We've got to get something together quick!"
Tybalt shrugged. Karak hid behind a curtain.
"Fantastic! Way to step up, there, guys."
A short time later, Horatio Quigley entered the room. He was dressed in garish costume attire, resplendent in show jewelry. A man of large carriage, his florid skin shone with a constant sheen of sweat, yet he moved with a surprising grace, twirling his handlebar mustache the whole time. (Quigley allowed me to use my terrible "Love child of Vincent Price and P.T. Barnum" impression.)
"Greetings and salubriations, my most fecunditous guests! I am HORATIO QUIGLEY, proprieter of voyeuristic delight and awe!",he said, gesturing grandly with his arms. "Ah! My man said that you had brought me some most rare and interesting new additions to my line-up of the "uniquely formed" and you do not disappoint, dear man!"
"Yes, well, as you can see I have some top-of-the-line freaks for you, Mr. Quigley. This is Tybalt, a recent return from the Nine Hells and the handsome bird behind the curtain is Karak. And I am their humble manager/handler, Edward."
"Why is he hiding behind the curtain?"
"Oh! He's, uh, nocturnal. Not used to being out in the day!"
Quigley seemed to buy it. As he took a seat, he said,"I see! I see! Now what kinds of things can they do? What kind of additions can they offer the show?"
"Well, uh, uh..."
Tybalt got up at this point, his eyes glaring red. He raised aloft his longsword and stared hollering and raving in Infernal, culminating in a sword blow that ruined the table, sending the water pipe and its hot contents onto the floor.
As he sat down, a pall of silence descended on the room.
Finally, Quigley said,"Well, uh, he's got potential, I suppose. What does the other one do?"
Karak attempted to mimic Tybalt's recent outburst and then Edward's introduction. It was decent, but by no means impressive. Quigley stroked his mustache for a moment.
"Well, I see some potential here. We're going to need to work on the show aspect and maybe some new costumes, but I am interested. Now, how much are you looking to make for the two of them?"
"Now, now.",said Edward,"I've got to ask you something first; is it true that you've taken on the Tancredi to your show?"
A bit surprised, Quigley responded,"Well, yes, they're a fine addition to the line-up, especially after losing Reptile Boy last year. What are you getting at?"
"Well, word is that they're primadonnas. You know, spotlight hogs with bigger egos than they're worth? I want my...clients...to have the positions of honor they deserve and they certainly don't need to deal with a couple of jealous twins."
"I can assure you that the Tancredi are nothing of the sort! Vicious slander perpetuated by jealous acting troupes and hack jugglers!"
"Hmm. Very well. However, before we agree to anything, I would like my associates to meet them first. Just to check everything out."
"That can certainly be arranged. I'll take you on a short tour, introduce them and we'll get cracking on a contract!"
And off they went. The frog girl croaked her soothing melodies, the party was disgusted by the bizarre Salmon Harpy. The Incredible Boneless Man languished in his cage within the cage as the itinerant investigators and their slippery host walked past. Finally, they came to a bedroom, literally reeking like poppies. Seated at the couch were the Tancredi.
The Tancredi resembled any normal sixteen or seventeen year old boy in most ways except one: two heads rose from their shoulders, rather than one. The right head lolled and drooled in a drugged stupor, his broad-brimmed hat long since discarded to reveal his perfect golden locks. His twin wore a simple cap over a head of dark hair, a contempuous sneer on his face as he attempted to force his pipe into his twin's mouth. "Come on, you f%+%ing lightweight! Do I have to show you how it's done? You sure ain't tattlin' any more, are you, you goody-goody sack of crap!"
"Gentlemen, may I introduce my young proteges: THE TANCREDI!",announced Horatio Quigley.
The left Tancredi eyed the investigators dubiously. "Geez, I thought I was a f#@$ing freak!"
"Now, Edward old man, what say we let the talent get acquainted while we step into my office to discuss the contract, hmm?"
"Oh, of course, of course. Everything seems to be in order here! Have fun, boys!",said Edward, as Quigley dragged him out of the room.
Karak and Tybalt seated themselves on opposite sides of the Tancredi.
"So,"began Karak,"...you're the Tancredi, huh?"
"So,"replied the left head,"...you're the Stupid Question Bird, huh?"
"Aren't you a little bit young to be hanging out here? I bet your mother is worried sick.",remarked Tybalt.
"Pft! F#&~ you, gruesome. I can f!$@in take care of myself; I can even take care of this a+!$&!#.", replied the cantankerous twin, casually slapping his drooling brother. "Quigley's gonna make me famous. Travel all over, make lots of money-"
"Hey.",interjected Karak, only to be ignored.
"-and do LOTS of b##!~es. You'll see, ugly, I'm set up to-"
"Hey!"
"-to take this little podunk show and really make it-"
"Hey!"
"HEY, WHAT?! Can't you see I'm f%+#in' TALKING over here?!"
"Can I have some of that?,"asked Karak.
The left head gave him a lopsided grin. "Knock yourself out.",he said, passing over the pipe.
As Karak took a long hit on the opium pipe, Tybalt cringed inwardly.
"So-so-so-so whatabout them KIDS outside, huh? They worworkin' for Quigley too?",asked the now strung-out Kenku.
"F@## no!,"countered the cantankerous twin,"They work for ME. I'm their g!~*#&n LEADER, man. I run that s+%$. They get me money, drugs, anything I want. I'm in charge, Quigley just gets a little off the top!"
(Meanwhile, a furious and drawn-out b.s. off was going down in Quigley's office. Each man throwing fake legal mumbo-jumbo at the other, trying to take the most advantage of their adversary. Each admired the other's kung fu haggling style.)
"How long do you think that's going to last?",asked Tybalt,"You know, Quigley doesn't seem like the type to share. Or let you just do what you want. Maybe he likes your style now, but what happens when you're out on the road? You gotta think ahead. Look where this show got the Incredible Boneless Man. How long until you're in a cage?"
This seemed to take the left head back. "No, no. He wouldn't do that. He said we're friends, takin' me under his wing-"
"What haphappens to your GAAAANG when your ggone? Huh? Wonwon't they just fine annuther boss?"
The left head thought about it for a while.
"Faface it. Face it. You don't wanna be iin this little show. YOuyou want to run your OWN s**&. And this guy's jusjust takin' advantage of you."
"Why don't you go with us back to your mom's place and start doing things on your own?", offered Tybalt.
(By now, Quigley had got the upper-hand. Signing a contract seemed inevitable, and Edward wanted to buy his companions as much time as he could. The contract drawn up and no other way to stall, Edward, of course, continued to lie by signing a different name.
"Pilot Inspektor?! That isn't even your name!",shouted Quigley
"Edward's my, uh, middle name. I prefer to go by that. I'd rather not discuss it, actually.")
Tancredi stared at his hands a moment, only occasionally pushing his brother's head away from his own. Karak made wild, random mimic sounds in his drugged haze.
"Alright, I guess I'll do that."
A moment later, Edward came racing back in.
"Is he coming with?", he asked, obviously nervous. "What's wrong with him?!"
"Lightweight.",responded the left head, regarding the drugged Kenku.
"Lislisten, I'm FINE.", said the strung-out birdman.
"Whatever. I suggest we leave NOW. Before Quigley gets back from getting that contract notarized."
So the four (five?) of them hurriedly left the compound. A glare from Tybalt's hellish red eyes silenced any kind of opposition. Upon returning to Mama Santina's, the Tancredi got the snot beaten out of them by their horrified mother. After calming down, the old fortune teller took each adventurer aside to reveal to them the information they requested. But that's for another entry...
Younger Paizo members ... should not read any further.
*begins to read further*
MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!Wow. This is a really cool campaign actually. Any gritty R-rated-ness aside, it sounds like a really interesting story. I especially like the cast of PCs. I can't wait to read more.
Thanks for giving a hoot, guys. I had kind of underestimated just how much time it takes to write entries for these campaign journals, so I've been putting it off. We played Sunday night and it was a pretty good session, though. I'll have an update soon for you. In the meantime, here is the information each character received from Mama Santina for helping to find her sons. Each is tied to personal stuff for that character and was sent to each player via email so that no one would know anyone else's information. Between adventures I may pop in individual information, since some characters may have things going on outside of when they are together to solve mysteries and things. I also have a new location or two to put info up on.
Edward's secret information-
Karak's secret information-
Tell Black Cole Keegan at the Crab Woman in the Merchant's District that "secrets never die". He shall introduce you to your fellow conspirators. (The Crab Woman is a tavern where a lot of mercenaries and tomb robbers (read: adventurers) hang out. I'm hoping this becomes a hang out for the PCs at some point. Details on it during the next Karak update.)
Tybalt's secret information-
Game session update soon. This weekend we'll be playing again and then the next two weekends we won't due to my own dogsitting duties, vacation time and general need to work on my portfolio some more.
I was just wondering:
How pregnant is Edward's sister? If she's like just found out she is pregnant, I'm assuming his little backstory plotline will crop up a lot later in the game. However, if she is 6-9 months pregnant, that little arc would pop up sooner.
I was just wondering:
How pregnant is Edward's sister? If she's like just found out she is pregnant, I'm assuming his little backstory plotline will crop up a lot later in the game. However, if she is 6-9 months pregnant, that little arc would pop up sooner.
Oh, it's coming up.
Oh, it's coming up.I was just wondering:
How pregnant is Edward's sister? If she's like just found out she is pregnant, I'm assuming his little backstory plotline will crop up a lot later in the game. However, if she is 6-9 months pregnant, that little arc would pop up sooner.
Okay. The way I look at the clues, it seems to me like each thing will resolve itself one background at a time, though I may be wrong. If that was the case, it seemed to me like they would occur in the following order.
Edward. Karak. Tybalt.
Tybalt's backstory just seems to be the one that would lead you to the Hells or to some other big end-of-campaign site.
This past weekend we played through most of the excellent Escape From Meenlock Prison. Since I didn't write this one, the boxed dialogue in the adventure will be summed up rather than quoted word-for-word, choosing instead to quote inter-party remarks and happenings.
Escape From Meenlock Prison: session 1, part 1
Since finding the Tancredi, the investigators had a little down time. Edward spent some "quality time" down on Petticoat Lane (save vs. venereal diseases: success) while Tybalt and Karak were up to their own loner business. After a few days, a message arrived that they were being sought by the Head Warden at the prison, for a particularly delicate task. The group chartered a toothless fisherman to bring them to the prison on his little skiff.
It was a day like most days in the Styes: gray and smoggy, the sun's rays serving only to give the airborne waste of the city a sickly yellow tinge. The Indar Prison loomed several miles off the coast, its high featureless walls and flat top seeming to rise directly from the spitting grey ocean. Over a short stone bridge from the prison was a tiny island containg a guard house and a few modest huts where the warden and his gaolers took up residence. On a wooden dock, the old fisherman let the investigators disembark and after a few silver changed hands, agreed to wait for their return.
The guards quickly directed the party to the flat stone booking room adjacent to the bridge to the prison. Iron bars covered all of the windows, the door itself was solid steel and a latticework cage dominated most of the entrance room; a wooden desk and chair within, likely for whomever was in charge of maintaining the records of occupancy. Through another iron door with a strong latch was the Warden's office, where he awaited the party.
The Warden was a man of at least seventy, his eyes jaded and his face worn from long years of service. He was the first person to not even so much as blink twice at the sight of Tybalt. He shook each adventurer's hand, thanked them for coming and began pouring a rich red wine into four mismatched glasses. While taking a long sip of Dissident's Wine, the Warden informed the PCs of their task: bring a notice to the warden of the Chateau Prison remanding the custody of two prisoners to the investigators. The prisoners were to be hooded and manacled for their return: these men no longer existed in the eyes of the populace, what they did was unimportant and they must be kept in the custody of the PCs at all times until they reach the prison once more. For fulfilling this task in a satisfactory fashion, the party would receive payment of one thousand gold coins; half up front, half when the job is finished. After a bit of clarification in regards to secrecy and the availability of manacles and hoods, the party agreed to the task.
After a stern, manly shaking of hands, the characters were ushered out of the Warden's office and back onto the skiff. The return to Flotsam was mostly spent discussing the logistics of the trip: a fortnight travel time, two prisoners. What kind of transportation would they use? How long can one ride a prisoner piggy back until they tire? Without a cleric or druid, healing potions would be needed. It was decided that horses would have to be procured, followed by liquid healing of some sort.
After disembarking back in their dirty slum, Edward began asking around. With only an hour of chatting up anyone within reach, the charismatic half-elf managed to find the most absolutely reputable horse trader presently in the city (Gather Information check result: 31). Hopping another skiff to the Merchant's District, the party wound their way through the hawkers and stalls to find a small corral set up next to the Indar/Styes bridge out of the Merchant's District. Beneath a dusty awning sat a man of olive skin tone, dressed practically with a turban atop his head. Farraj was known as one of the few honest horse traders in the district and since he kept a low profile to prevent theft, he was also one of the most difficult to find. After some quick gasps at just how expensive a light riding horse would be, followed by thorough inspections of hooves, teeth and coats (and a quick glance at the "skel pen" full of cheap on-the-way-to-the-glue-factory horses), the investigators chose their mounts: a light riding horse each for Karak and Edward and a light warhorse for Tybalt. After a little haggling between Edward and Farraj, the horse trader threw in the feed that they would require for the trip in order to sweeten the deal. Saddled and ready, the PCs now turned their attention toward finding some potions. With no organized temples (that they knew of) on this side of the bridge, the Alchemist's Quarter seemed to be the best shot.
After one more amazing Gather Information check on Edward's part (being a handsome half-elf with a high charisma, max ranks in gather information and the investigator feat makes you just about EVERYONE's friend), a reputable alchemist was found: a fellow named Master Refrum, one of the few remaining philanthropists in the area. Refrum's shop was a squat brick building in the Alchemist's Quarter, a little chimney puffing smoke into the already thick miasma above the Quarter. A quick knock on the door brought the appearance of, presumably, the alchemist himself. Refrum was a small, middle-aged man with thinning brown hair and a pair of spectacles balanced on his nose. He wore nondescript work clothes and a leather apron, grease and oil staining both. In a short, excited burst of speech he inquired after the party's business. Upon being asked about the availability of magick potions, Refrum nodded quickly and ushered the PCs in.
Master Refrum's home was scattered with all manner of completed or half-completed clockwork devices. Tools and books lay scattered on every surface, even piled on the bed. Racks of chymical reagents, glass alembics, tongs and other apparatuses sat beside innumerable bookshelves. The place smelled of oil.
Smiling kindly, the alchemist cleared a table and produced a padlocked chest. After opening it up to display a neatly organized box of labeled potions, he excused himself to allow the characters to browse a bit.
"C-can I offer you, ah, gentlemen a cup of tea or a glass of water?",he offered.
"No, thanks.", was the universal response.
Each investigator quickly grabbed one of the three cure light wounds potions in the box, then set about examining the rest of the potions. Refrum buzzed about the room, keeping an eye on the shoppers as he busied himself. Unfortunately, he was the only one that didn't spot Karak quietly pocketing one of the more expensive potions.
Edward didn't say anything, going about his business. Tybalt, however, was a bit more conscientious.
"DON'T DO THAT!",said Tybalt, loud enough for Refrum to overhear.
"Do what?",responded his avian companion,"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Is something the matter?",asked the alchemist.
"I just noticed my companion pocket one of your potions."
"What?! How dare you accuse me of such a thing! I can assure you I have done nothing of the sort!",said Karak, trying his darnedest to sound indignant.
Edward quietly edged toward the door, in case things got ugly.
"Well, uh, I'm sorry, but, uh, I'm...going to have to ask you to empty your pockets. I'm sure this is all just an honest mix-up but, you know, you can never be too, ah, careful.",said Master Refrum.
"Very well.", responded Karak. The kenku began emptying all of his various pouches and satchels onto the table, using his deft hands to always keep the pilfered potion shuffled from one spot to another. The alchemist was fooled; the paladin wasn't.
"I-I don't see it anywhere. Are-are you sure you saw what you, ah, said you saw, s-sir?",asked the now very nervous alchemist.
"I am.",said the Hellbred,"He's hiding it from you."
Master Refrum stood for a moment in nervous reflection before clearing his throat. "Well, I apologize, but I'm, ah, going to have to pat you down. Sorry, but I've got to sort this out."
The kenku darted a murderous glance to his forthright companion as Master Refrum patted him down, finally finding the potion tucked under Karak's armor.
The alchemist's brows furrowed in disapproval. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave.",he said.
Karak picked up his things and left, the alchemist not even allowing him to purchase the healing potion he had selected. Edward made his purchase and Tybalt bought both remaining tinctures, leaving with a nod and a handshake.
It was a long, tense ride toward the Chateau.
End of part 1 of this session: set-up and shopping. Coming soon, part 2 of this session: the real action.
Well .... at least Refrum is sure to remember them should they happen to bump into him again in the future...
"Mr. Refrum! We were adventuring and Karak fell off some rocks...and was bitten by some wolves...and just sorta bled on the way over here since we didn't really have much to make bandages with. Anyways, we need a potion!"
"Well, well...how unfortunate..."
(That's weird, I had something better of a punchline put together in my head, but when I typed up the thing about what happened to Karak, it sort of vanished.)
Any chance that Quigley will reappear?
I mean, they did take the star away from his show, and Edward didn't deliver on the other two that were "contracted" for.
I'm just imagining an ambush in a dark alley - where the party is attacked by a pack of circus freaks.
All in good time. Quigley isn't likely to forget our itinerant heroes any time soon. You ever been punched by a man with no skin? Totally gross. And you know that lady that pushes hooks and nails through her flesh is going to do some pretty sadistic s*$# in a fight.
RPG Superstar 2011 Top 32
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All in good time. Quigley isn't likely to forget our itinerant heroes any time soon. You ever been punched by a man with no skin? Totally gross. And you know that lady that pushes hooks and nails through her flesh is going to do some pretty sadistic s*%* in a fight.
Friggin' awesome! (Said in a heavy New Jersey accent, a la Carl from ATHF)
A dagger juggler, a fire breather, a stilt walker, a contortionist, all pissed off and looking to fight.
.. . awww yeah.
Escape From Meenlock Prison: Session 1, Part 2
The road was long through the East Wood to the Chateau, but our "heroes" persevered. It was a fine change from the Styes: fresh air, wildlife, no one trying to shiv you in the market. Karak's redface cleared up shortly through the trip and meals of freshly hunted game were a welcome repast to their dry and sometimes...suspect...trail rations. The adventurers had just gotten really used to traveling on horseback by the time they approached the Chateau Prison.
After passing within the grounds of the prison, a stately stone building riddled with clinging ivy to the point that it resembled a single block of marble more than a building, a grey uniformed guard greeted them and demanded to know their business. Upon presentation of the sealed letter from the Warden Tarrow Shick, he ushered the trio inside. Navigating the stripped hallways of the once stately Chateau, they were soon in the presence of the Chateau's warden; a handsome man with dark hair seated behind an oak desk. The room was obscured by a great deal of cigar smoke, likely the result of the jolly, obese man seated beside the warden's desk with a cigar in his mouth and a glass of wine in hand.
The warden took the sealed envelope, opened it up and read its contents. Nodding to himself, he unlocked a safe behind him and produced two keys. The brusque warden then informed the characters that their charges were in the seventh and sixteenth cells on the right. Unfortunately, since the prison was woefully understaffed, the adventurers would have to gather the prisoners themselves. Oh, and they're allowed to run free throughout the lower floors so be careful, mmkay? Provisions for the return would be supplied, along with manacles and hoods for the PCs' charges.
Mr. Fine then showed the group to the elevator in order to send them down. After conferring through shouts with his coworker, Mr. Dee, Mr. Fine opened the gate to the lift. The tiny metal cage and its length of chains and pulleys did not inspire confidence, but Edward and Tybalt entered nonetheless. Karak was suspicious, however. It took a moment for the guard to convince the kenku that, for security reasons, it was best if they all stuck together since it takes a long time to reset the mechanism. Eventually, everyone was crammed into the elevator and began their descent.
After swinging pendulously for several long moments, the tiny pinpoint of light above dwindling all the while, the investigators finally arrived in a dimly lit room. Statues of satyrs flanked a dark passageway directly across from the elevator and a set of double doors loomed on the right.
Mr. Dee, whom the adventurers were assured would meet them at the bottom, was nowhere to be seen. Edward called out for him, but no one responded. This was enough to get everyone a bit nervous. Karak pulled out his sickle and loaded his crossbow, Edward kept his longspear in hand and Tybalt drew his longsword. Just in case.
The doors to the right were jammed by something very heavy on the opposite side, so the only remaining option was the satyr flanked hallway ahead. The dark hallway contained huge racks of dusty, muddy wine bottles. Our investigators paused to investigate the stock, Karak grabbing a bottle for future use. In the room at the very end of the hall was an old desk with two chairs. A padlocked double door stood was on the west wall, a door made of iron bars on the east wall. A large tapestry hung on the south wall, above a cabinet. A dark puddle dominated the center of the room.
After ascertaining that the puddle was, in fact, blood, the party assumed that Mr. Dee was...indisposed at the moment. The investigators then began rifling through the room, finding a small key in the desk, two pairs of manacles, personal effects, two blue potions, an artificial leg and a large key. The PCs divided up the items, Karak being sure to grab a potion and Edward calling dibs on the artificial leg (though he had two working ones of his own). The party attempted both keys on the padlock as Karak dimly heard someone repeating,"They're coming...they're coming..." to the east.
The door of iron bars creaked open to reveal a long hallway with three steel doors on both sides, continuing further into the darkness. A trail of blood on the floor lead from the prisoner processing room to a man laying on the floor, his stomach torn open, guts hanging about and trailing into the nearest cell. He had just enough to look up at the investigators and smile before being dragged into the open cell by a long coil of his small intestine.
"They'recomingThey'recomingTHEY'RECOMing."
"Okay, this is getting creepy!", exclaimed Edward.
Tybalt bounded down the hallway, slamming shut the door where the disemboweled man had just been pulled. Through the small observation window, he could see a weeping man on the cot, pulling lengths of intestine into his lap. With his keen eyes, he also noted a deranged-looking man with a makeshift club standing in the corner.
"What's in there?",asked Edward,"Let me take a look."
Stepping aside a bit, Tybalt said,"Be careful, there's two of them in there."
The half-elf put his face near the observation window as he got this bizarre little pins and needles feeling in the back of his head (rend mind attempt: failed, successful will save). He recoiled a bit at the sight but still attempted to glean some information from the cell's residents.
"Um, sir? Excuse me-"
Suddenly, a furious, homicidal face had filled his observation window, screaming nonsense and profanity and attempting to push the door open with desperate strength!
"HOLY S+$&!! OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD!!",screamed the now very frightened Edward. Desperately, he tried to keep the cell door closed against the onslaught of the prisoner within.
"I told you there were two in there!",shouted Tybalt as he tried to figure out the best way to intercede. Karak quietly readed his crossbow from down the hall.
With a crash, the door flew open, catching Edward off guard. The convict raised his improvised club and swung at the half-elf, but Edward managed to just barely parry the blow with his spear. Karak took a shot at the man from down the hall, but it went wild. Tybalt rushed in behind Edward, but his companion and the door blocked access to the cell. The weeping inmate on the cot was now starting to get agitated.
Realizing his longspear was useless in close combat, Edward pulled out his dagger and took a quick slash at his assailant, leaving a gash across the man's chest. He then took a step back to allow Tybalt a vantage. Another crossbow bolt from Karak flew into the inmate's leg as the filthy convict attempted to press the advantage. A sword blow from Tybalt sent the man down for the count, as the Hellbred quickly kicked the body back into the cell and closed the door before the weeping man could initiate hostilities of his own.
Tybalt braced his back against the door as the still (still!) crying convict pounded on it. Edward was shaking with adrenalin and fright, while Karak reloaded his crossbow and kept his sickle at the ready.
"Listen,"said the Hellbred,"next time, why don't you let me handle the talking?"
A plan was quickly hatched; the desk in the other room was long enough to block the hallway if placed lengthwise within the cramped passage. Braced against both doors, the agitated occupant of this cell wouldn't be able to get out and the adventurers could climb in and out over said desk. While Tybalt braced the door, Karak and Edward dragged the desk into the hallway and propped in between the two cell doors. The plan worked!
After some short deliberation, the group decided to holler up to Mr. Fine regarding what had transpired. Though they yelled and were almost certain someone was up there, no response was forthcoming. Couple this with Mr. Dee's apparent death and things were not looking toasty for our investigators. They decided to check out the padlocked wing in the hopes of finding some alternate means of escape.
After working at the lock with his picks for several moments while Tybalt and Edward waited nearby, reading the romance novels they had brought along for the trip and sharing recipes for the best method of cooking rats, Karak finally popped open the lock. (And of course, Karak knew that the best method was to simply pan fry them with a little butter, assuming one is too squeamish to eat them alive.)
Within the padlocked wing was a dark room dominated by four tremendous fermentation tanks, with a wooden catwalk running above them. Also of interest was a metal cage similar to the one they used to reach the lower level and a set of iron doors in the north wall. The characters examined the cage and found that the large key they had found would open it. They left the elevator alone for the time being and headed north.
In the next room were kegs stacked five high in several groups. Shadows were large and menacing and the room offered many good spots to hide. The trio was on edge. Amidst the massive display of...barrels was a ramp leading up to a set of doors on the east wall and a passage leading to another room to the north. The trio examined the door to the east and found that they were blocked by something on the other side. On each attempt, they could hear the clinking of glass against glass. Finally, Tybalt gave a great heave and succeeded in forcing the door into a more open position. On the opposite side, a massive crash of hundreds of bottles breaking on the floor greeted the investigators and likely anyone in a ten mile radius. The door was open just enough to see that it was now 1. stuck on the toppled edge of a massive wine rack and that 2. Tybalt had just dumped over likely several years of Dissident's Wine.
"Oh. That's what it was.",he said as his companions rolled their eyes and smacked their foreheads.
On to the north, our inquisitive (and graceful) adventurers found a room stinking with rotted food. Cow carcasses, fruit and grain were a feast for flies and maggots. Despairing of finding anything useful, they turned around and went back south, where they made one more search of the room.
Karak felt a strange tingling sensation in the back of his head as they entered, and Edward felt a similar headache himself. Tybalt, however, had a very different experience.
Suddenly, standing next to Edward was a bald man with a third eye in the middle of his forehead.
"We have the same initials.", he remarked before leaping into the half-elf with supernatural speed! Tybalt's mind reeled and sweat beaded his scaley forehead.
"What? Why are you looking at me like that?",asked Edward, in response to Tybalt's bewildered stare.
"You, you didn't just see that? Are you feeling okay?",responded the paladin.
"What do you mean? What did YOU see?",asked the half-elf.
"I just saw this weird bald guy leap into you! But it looks like nothing's changed.",responded Tybalt.
A disturbing, whispered mantra had crept into the investigator's minds.
"What you are, we once were. What we are, you shall become.", the detached voice(s) repeated, over and over.
"Do you hear that?",asked Edward.
"Yes, but I think it's something in our heads. Not so much heard, but thought.",responded his quick-witted Kenku companion.
Tybalt was getting suspicious, so he started using refined sense to discern malicious auras in his general vacinity. He could feel one emanating from somewhere to the south, nearby and one from Karak's direction. Concentrating further, he pinned the auras to Karak and a source near the doors south.
With his fine avian eyes, Karak had already found the source of the paladin's confusion: a tiny, hunched creature lurked in the shadows. Its flesh was chitinous, its back hunched with bristling spines. Its mouth was dominated by insectoid mandibles and its eyes were ovoid, white and staring. Little crab-like claws punctuated its limbs. Another pins and needles headache hit Karak as the creature began to lope away.
Grabbing the only thing at hand, the wine bottle he had grabbed in the now destroyed stock room, Karak took aim and threw his improvised missile weapon at the escaping aberration. The bottle spun end over end before striking the creature in the back of its skull, the bottle only shattering when it hit the ground. (Critical hit with the thrown bottle; Karak's player seems to only get really lucky with attack rolls when it comes to thrown liquids. In a previous game, his character had struck an enemy critically in the face with a thrown flask of acid.)
The creature stumbled, shaken from the unexpected assault. (Draw from the critical hit deck: stunned from bludgeoning damage for the next two rounds.) Putting together what had just happened, Tybalt and Edward ran toward the tiny freak. Karak, sickle out, closed on the creature first and scored an underhanded attack on the aberration's vitals. Tybalt's strike sent the thing's head spinning to the floor. All the while, the mantra continued in their skulls.
"What you are, we once were. What we are, you shall become."
"What in the Nine Hells is that thing?! And what was it doing in our heads?",asked Tybalt.
Karak shrugged as he wracked his brain.
"I think it's a bugbear.",said Edward.
Thus concludes the second part of the first session of Escape From Meenlock Prison. I'll have the third installment up before we play on Sunday, bringing us to where we left off for this coming week's session.
Hopefully I will also have my first completed character sketch of Karak done soon, with Tybalt and Edward soon to follow. But don't hold your breath! It may take me a little while to really nail it.
Awesome! I've wanted to run this adventure since I first read it, and your game has done it great justice!
“I think it’s a bugbear” – where did that come from?? I like it though, I like how your players think. Sounds like a good session! So you’re not playing again for a couple weeks right?
The bugbear comment was just Edward trying to pretend he knew something; I don't think Karak and Tybalt were particularly convinced. I have one more update to write to fill in the previous session and then tonight we wrapped up Meenlock Prison, so that will be more entries, along with a special little side encounter on the way.
We're going to take two weeks off, so it'll be mid-August before we play again. Some down time adventures will take place via email for each player individually (which I'll probably cut and paste onto here) before we meet again.
I've been wanting to run Meenlock for awhile now too. Things are looking good here James.
Any idea what kind of one on one adventures you're going to run?
One of the goals for this campaign was, for me, to put more of a spotlight on the player characters. I've run the adventure paths before and tend to rely on published adventures much of the time, simply because writing out combats and the game mechanics of encounters take so long and one of the caveats of that is a limit on time in order to go on side adventures a bit more targeted toward the PCs' backgrounds.
So I asked my players to think up personal goals for each of their characters. Karak's player has his own idea of what he wanted to do, so I'm working to accomodate that. Tybalt and Edward's players had background ideas that I came up with, which I'll reveal through the adventures. Edward especially, since he can end up being a bit overshadowed by his bizarre comrades.
In the campaign journals, I kind of dress up some of their dialogue in places, since Tybalt is kind of quiet as a character and Karak tends to speak more through actions. Edward's player tends to be a bit more flamboyant than his comrades, which kind of helps overcome the "vanilla" aspect of his character. When your partners in crime have horns, claws, scales and beaks, you have to fight for the spotlight a bit.
Escape From Meenlock Prison: Session 1, Part 3
It had become painfully obvious that something stank in thissa here prison, and it wasn't just the guy with the guts in his lap. Tallying up everything they had figured out thus far, the PCs deduced that 1. Mr. Dee was probably dead or missing 2. Something suspicious was going on upstairs, since no one answered their calls and 3. Rotten little creatures were sending weird messages into their heads. With all of this information, our intrepid adventurers decided that, for security reasons, no one was being released from any cell until they figured out exactly what was going on. That being said, they continued back to the cell block to figure out what was happening.
The whispered mantra still stuck in their heads, the trio climbed back over the desk keeping the cell doors closed. The next door on the left contained only a corpse, so they continued to the next block of six cells. At the end of the hall, the two facing cells had their doors open, effectively blocking the view further into the hall. This caused our heroes (and anti-heroes) only a moment of pause. Moving with their backs to the wall, Tybalt in the lead, the investigators cautiously approached the doors, being careful to look in each cell on the way. Noting what seemed to be another corpse in the middle left hand cell, they turned their attention to the open doors. Tybalt took a moment to look into the cell opposite him. Within was a man lying in a fetal position on the cell floor, both legs nothing more than bloody rag-covered stumps. A sickly odor was emanating from within.
Tybalt slammed the door next to him shut and looked within, finding...nothing. To further secure their backs, the investigators closed the door on the unfortunate amputee's cell as well. It was immediately obvious that the party was now entering a more inhabited wing; moans, screams, oaths and the sound of full grown men weeping could be heard further in. Upon entering the next cell block, the two men on the left side had their hands out of their cell windows, begging for aid.
"Please, please! Let me out! I can help you, I'm a surgeon, please, let me out before they come back!!",pleaded an older man with a bloody nose, his thin white arms sticking out of the observation window.
"I need you to calm down, sir.",said Edward. "Tell me who 'they' are."
"Th-the dark ones. They appear out of nowhere, bringing nightmares, preying on our minds. They've driven many mad! Please, please let me out of here!!"
"Calm down. We're here to help. Just stay in your cell and we'll take care of this, okay?",responded the half-elf.
The surgeon gave a piteous wail and returned to the dank recesses of his cell. From the cell next to his, an arm and a seared stump where a left hand had once resided were dangling out and within, another man could be heard pleading for release. The PCs turned to the seventh cell, the one they were told to retrieve a prisoner from. Within was a man with thinning brown hair, a white streak running through it. He sat with his face in his hands on the cot.
"Excuse me? Sir? We've been sent to get you out. We'll be back soon for you, all right?",said Edward. The man looked up for a moment, his face hopeless and suspicious, before turning back to whatever fascinated him in his hands. The man with the stump was screaming something about how the man they were talking to was evil and that they shouldn't release him and things like that.
"Happy bunch.",remarked Karak.
Moving past the cells, with hurried reassurances to the occupants within, the adventurers approached the turn. An old desk and a broken chair sat at the junction of the two hallways, before it took a left turn. After Karak checked the desk for anything useful, the party moved on, noting its location for future makeshift barrier use.
Around the corner, were three cells on their right and two on the left. The left-most cell was walled off entirely in metal bars and contained a man with stringy white hair and one leg. Edward surreptitiously hid the pilfered prosthetic leg behind his back. Of course, the man within wanted to chat.
"Hey! Hey! Let me and my friend out of our cells and we can help you get out of here!",said the one-legged man.
"What do you mean? Who's your friend?",asked a suspicious Tybalt. Karak fingered his weapons, clearly annoyed.
"Aris. He's just...a buddy of mine. What do you say? We know this place pretty well, we can both be of great use!"
The party looked at each other for a moment before Edward replied,"No, sorry."
Now ignoring the frantic pleas of THREE inmates, the PCs turned to regard the opposite cell where a man was holding a ring of keys out of the observation window. A bloody streak marked his door.
"Listen, you take these keys and free me and I swear I'll--"
"'Help us get out of here'?",finished Karak. "Listen, chummley, those keys aren't going to do you any good if you can't unlock your own cell with them, so why should we even bother freeing you? You can drop the keys, or we can move on without them. And you."
The man inside thought for a moment before growling in frustration and throwing the ring of keys.
From the left hand cell, piteous sobbing could be heard. Tybalt stopped short upon looking into the right hand cell: within was a bald man with a spikey sun tattooed on his forehead. Like a third eye. Upon noticing the three adventurers, the man spoke in a calm, clear voice.
"Gentlemen, I must demand that if you have it within your power, you must free everyone from their cells or reinstitute the safety and provisioning protocols this prison once had. The treatment of these incarcerated men has been most inhumane. They are without protection from the creatures that prey upon us and without proper food and water. If there is any decency within you, I ask that you take these measures."
Tybalt stared for a moment. "We're working on that. A quick question, though: did you, um, jump into this guy (pointing to Edward) a few minutes ago?"
"Sir, I do not know what you mean. But I can assure you that I have not left this cell. I believe what you may have experienced was a mental assault brought on by the creatures plaguing us. Each prisoner here, myself included, has been subjected to a similar attack, each time leaving its victim mentally fatigued."
Tybalt scratched his head and Karak and Edward looked on. Shrugging, he assured the sinister looking bald guy that they would do what they could. Edward turned to the sobbing man in the opposite cell. Of course, here comes the pitch.
"Pppplease lelet me out of heere!", pleaded a thin, gawky young man. "II ddon't belong in here, really! ThThere's been a mistake! I'm Warden Park's son-in-law, Oban. Oban Relks. He locked me in here last week before all this started because my wife, his daughter, accused me of ininfidelity. I didn't do it and I don't belong here! Please!"
Edward rolled his eyes,"Let me guess, if we let you out, you'll help us. Why should we believe you?"
"Wwell...bebecause I'm telling the TRUTH! Warden Parks locked me up in here last week. A little after that, wwe started seeing these little insect crab weevil men, running about, tormenting us. The guards tried to take care of it, but the creatures were too much and a bunch of prisoners got loose! They killed the guards and left us here to rot! I-I don't even know where the WaWarden is. Please!"
Each adventurer weighed the blubbering man's words carefully. He was telling the truth. And it seemed as if they may have been had.
"Okay,"said Edward,"can you tell us who the guy opposite you is?"
"ThThat's Blessed of Pelor. I don't know why he's iin here, but hehe's been trying to help, though he isn't doing so well himself."
The group conferred.
"I like the Oban kid, seems like he's too scared to lie.", said Edward.
"And it would explain Mr. Dee being missing if those monsters are down here and there are inmates running around.",remarked Tybalt.
"Assuming Mr. Dee was actually a guard. The prisoners we were told to grab may not even be the right prisoners. This whole thing is fishy.", said Karak.
After reassuring Oban that they would be back, the party continued down the hallway, that horrid chant still in their skulls.
The next cell block was filled with another chant entirely, however.
"Big boys don't cry. Big boys don't cry. Big boys don't...", chanted four prisoners standing at their doors as they watched a mass of rats chew on a dead man. As the group got closer, the rats scurried off, revealing a bloody corpse of a man in a grey uniform.
"Well, there's Mr. Dee.", remarked Edward. The adventurers decided to go single file through the hallway, over the corpse, to avoid the bars. They didn't want any rabid The Cure fans to grab them and tell them about how Disintegration is the best album ever. The furthest cell on the left was open, so the trio stepped in cautiously to investigate.
Four corpses lay on the floor, stipped to the skins and covered in rat bites; though their caved in skulls, bruised bodies and the bloody chair limbs laying on the floor gave a good indication of how they died.
"And here are the real guards.", noted Tybalt. The investigators had officially been hoodwinked.
Now our heroes and anti-heroes were more than ready to break some skulls of their own. They continued to the last cell block, where the chants in their heads intensified. The middle door on the right wall and the last door on the right wall were both open. The party decided to head into the middle door, weapons at the ready.
Inside the cell, a low moan punctuated by clicks and grunts could be heard behind the cot against the far wall. The investigators all looked at one another for a moment trying to decide what to do. Tybalt finally approached and threw the cot out of the way.
A malformed head and two hands stuck out of a hole in the wall, the fingers beginning to fuse into a claw. The creature looked up: its brow ridge was thick and raised. Its eyes sunken and grey, with no nose and a short muzzle of mismatched teeth. The arms twitched awkwardly, almost in appeal to the characters. Reeling with disgust and shock, the adventurers stared at the creature, which resembled a mix between a human being and the creature they had killed before. Tybalt raised his sword, considering whether or not to strike. Karak was in favor of destroying it. Edward recognized that it was mouthing along with the chant in their heads.
Tybalt had just discerned that the creature itself wasn't evil, though two things behind it were and Karak next to him was ("I'll have to take care of that later.",he told himself) and that it was weakly trying to get out of the hole before the creature was dragged completely in.
Again, a moment of silence and awkward half-deliberation before Tybalt finally dove in after the creature. It was a tiny hole, barely large enough for him to crawl. If it weren't for his darkvision, he wouldn't have even known what lay in front of him. Seeing the wretched creature, he crawled forward and grabbed its half-chitinous shoulders and began to drag. There was resistance from the other side, but the six foot four inch Hellbred Paladin had little difficulty pulling the creature out of the hole. Karak took up a ready position next to the hole, waiting for the other creatures to come out while Tybalt did the same. Edward stood directly in front of the hole, by the doorway, his spear out and his crossbow cocked.
The two deformed wretches; chitinous, grey-eyed, noseless and pincer-handed, emerged. Karak took a quick swipe with his sickle and took one off guard. Tybalt, unfortunately, made a wild swing and failed to connect.
Suddenly, a palpable wave of dread washed over the party, emanating from the unnatural creatures before them. Edward gritted his teeth, but Karak and Tybalt were reduced to shivering and staring at the beasts before them.
"Aw, s$~@.",said the half-elf sorcerer. Two pin-prick headaches hit his brain, which he now recognized as the sign for a resisted mental assault. Keeping his distance, Edward made familiar arcane gestures, channeling magickal energy through his body. Blowing a handful of sand produced from a belt pouch, one of the creatures fell to the ground, unconscious.
The next several seconds were a frenzied stand-off between the creature and the sorcerer. The beast got past the range of Edward's longspear several times and was rebuffed by a swipe of the half-elf's dagger. Attempts to rend the mind of our hero were unsuccessful each time. While the half-elf summoned a blue disk of energy to protect himself from harm, the creature landed ineffective blows with its pincer hands. Each time, those profane claws sent a chill up our hero's spine, but he never gave in. Spear blows and rays of frost were almost ineffectual against the creature, but the sorcerer held it at a stalemate.
Until Sean and Phil came back from their six round ciggarette break.
I mean, until Tybalt and Karak shook off the unnatural pall of fear.
Moving quickly and with renewed fervor, Tybalt seized the opportunity to destroy the prone creature and delivered a devastating coup de grace, sending the malformed head twisting through the cell.
Though its physiology was foreign to Karak, the raven-kith managed to capitalize on a weakness in its flank for a devastating assault on the monster's vitals. Under the shared onslaught of the three adventurers, the final Meenlock didn't stand a chance. Once it lay dead, the trio attempted to catch their breath and regain their dignity. For the first time since they arrived, they could hear that the cells were quiet. More importantly, their own brains were quiet, the only thoughts contained therein being their own.
Inspecting the half-meenlock they had found, Tybalt (in an amazing display of medicinal knowledge) diagnosed that the man would recover back to normal if given time and care. Not willing to risk further assault from within the hole, the adventurers sent Tybalt (the guy with the most hit points and darkvision) into the hole to see what else was there.
After following the cramped corridor for several yards, the Hellbred came out to a five foot tall cavern. Within, the floor was scattered with debris and another tunnel wound to the northeast. Sifting through the remains, Tybalt found several pieces of gold, a white ash wand, a bent silver holy symbol of Olidammara and a spiked gauntlet. Stowing the items in a sack for later distribution, Tybalt headed into the northeastern tunnel. After roughly ten yards, a vertical shaft shot up from the tunnel: the top was capped with a small boulder, but it seemd scalable. The Hellbred returned to his comrades to inform them of his finds and to form a plan of action.
Some charlatans needed to be unmasked.
Edward's player flaked on us on Sunday, so Tybalt's player ran him along with the Hellbred. This will be the wrap-up entry for Escape From Meenlock Prison, with maybe a little extra special encounter afterwards, by popular demand.
Escape From Meenlock Prison: Session 2, Part 1- This Time, It's Personal
In the depths of the Chateau Prison, an audible calm had come over the cells. With the foul abominations laying dead at their feet, our heroes decided to get square with the mooks what set 'em up.
To make sure they had the element of surprise, the trio decided to ascend via the chimney Tybalt had found in the Meenlock's (or Bugbear's, according to Edward) lair. Since Karak had the rope and the inclination, he headed up first. He found that the shaft wasn't all that rough of a climb; plenty of hand holds, dry rock, delicious delicious beetles running around. The top was plugged by a big heavy rock, so the kenku braced his legs and shoved as hard as his hollow avian bones would allow. Up it went, giving a glimps of daylight and a nice breeze of fresh air.
When he poked his head up, he could see that they would exit behind the chateau in a clear field with little cover. More importantly to his companions, there was nowhere to tie off the rope. So they would be roughing it as he had. Karak could make out a back door on the Chateau that would grant access, assuming they could get in there.
After hollering down that they would have to climb without the rope; the grumbling Tybalt (in his heavy scale mail) climbed up and tied the rope around his own waist to allow Edward to climb up. The half-elf managed to both climb up the rope and not pull the heavy paladin on top of himself. Once topside, the trio headed as quietly as possible for the back door. The paranoid Karak searched the entrance thoroughly for traps before setting to work with his picks. The door popped open easily.
"Okay", said Edward,"How are we doing this?"
"I'll scout ahead, you guys keep a secure distance behind me.", replied Karak.
The nimble kenku crept down the crumbling hallways, keeping his eyes and ears open as his less graceful companions trundled after him. He picked up the sound of voices in the front entrance room just as he stumbled on three of the guards, including the "Warden", with the fat merchant from earlier with four big chests.
The kenku saw the "guards". The "guards" saw the kenku.
A moment of stunned silence followed as each party silently wondered at the other's presence.
The perfect awkward silence was broken by the fake guards picking up their nearby shortspears and making to murderize their most recent "guest". As Tybalt and Edward moved to bring up the rear and reach the melee, Karak sped out of the doorway with his sickle drawn, running with no regard as to whether or not he poked an eye out. Indeed, he WANTED to poke an eye out! And poke an eye he did! The curved steel poked straight into the oncoming "guard" eliciting a hearty,"GAWK!" from the wounded man. And this is where a high dexterity, the improved initiative feat and a passion for inflicting stabbings on your fellow man will get you in trouble.
Karak was now surrounded and it was high time for the "guards" to vent their own passion for inflicting stabbings. Though he fended off his first assailant well enough, his second attacker was able to get a spear past his guard, right into our beloved antihero's thigh. Karak squawked in pain as hot blood ran out of the wound. Tybalt moved in quickly to take some pressure off of his ally of convenience, but his blows were deflected.
Edward took up his own position blocking the doorway, where he fired off another spell to put his enemies into slumberland. He caught the fat merchant (who had so far just squealed in fear and stayed out of the whole thing) and Mr. Fine in the area of effect. Lardo hit the ground snoring, Mr. Fine was still bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Edward readied his crossbow as Karak and Tybalt fought off their assailants.
Crossbow bolts, sword and sickle blows and spear jabs went wild for most of the time, until Karak managed to plant his sickle into one the "guard's" eyes, sending him to the ground in a bloody heap. The "warden" and Mr. Fine took a quick glance at one another and then ran for the merchant's chests. Karak and Tybalt took their potshots as they ran, but did little more than graze the two former convicts. The two "guards" were scooping up a chest each when Tybalt caught up to Mr. Fine. Invoking the blessings of the infernal powers, Tybalt took a powerful swing at the man, sending him sprawling against the far wall to leave a bloody smear on the once fine masonry. No one left but the "warden".
The false warden picked up the merchant and held his spearpoint under his heaving double chin.
"Here's how it works!", sneered the con man,"I walk, with this guy and a chest and you can't follow me. If you don't, he's a dead man."
"Kill him.", said Karak.
The false warden paused for a moment.
"Seriously. Kill him. We're just gonna run you down anyways."
"Listen, the guy's just going to slow you down.", said Tybalt. "I mean, we're going to catch you no matter what you do. Why make it easier for us?"
The false warden dropped the merchant and booked for the door. He had a good lead on our heroes, even with the chest. Karak, Edward and Tybalt ran after him, Edward stopping to take aim with his crossbow; the shot drawing blood but failing to stop the fleeing ex-con. Tybalt got the jump on the fleeing con man and tried to wrestle him to the ground; unfortunately, a swung chest to the face kept the Hellbred from getting a good grip. Karak took a shot himself, but missed the mark. The trio continued their pursuit, as the con man made a beeline for the party's tethered horses.
Seeing where he was headed, Karak shouted,"OH YOU SON OF A B#@&!!!" as he hurriedly reloaded his crossbow.
The false warden was mounting up on one the riding horses when Tybalt caught up to him. A smack from the flat of the paladin's sword and a bolt to the leg from a very miffed Karak rendered the man unconscious and bleeding. Tybalt pulled out his bandages and dressed the conman's wounds before putting him in manacles and dragging him back to the chateau.
"Teach you to try and steal our expensive f@$!in' horses you son of a b+$%*.",said the irate Kenku as he allowed himself a free spite kick.
Next entry: There's a new warden at this prison, and he ain't afraid to cry.
Wow, I really like this campaign so far. I think you have done "Meenlock Prison" some justice and it actually fits very well in your campaign setting. I love the seedy realism and elements of modernism mingled with the standard D&D stuff--it's like Dickens meets China Mieville meets Faerun.
Okay, I'm going to try and hammer out the last session of Meenlock Prison. Karak's player has expressed a bit of dismay that I may have gotten events mixed up at times as to who did what and so on, especially in combat. So, understand that this is a mixture of my recollections coupled with a desire to make the story an interesting read, above all. In the future, I will ask each player to make notes of their significant achievements in any given session to better reflect what's going on.
Edward's player flaked on us this past session, so he was run by Tybalt's player in combat and myself outside of it (as the kind of 'suggestion from the DM guy' or 'I kind of wish D&D had an Idea stat, like in CoC, so I'll let the DMNPC come up with a suggestion after a check'guy).
Escape From Meenlock Prison: Session 2, Part 2- The Worst Birthday Ever.
Hauling their only prisoner from the recent melee with the "guards", the investigators headed back into the Chateau in order to figure out their next move. In the (now gore-strewn) foyer, the PCs dropped the false warden and moved to the unconscious merchant. A few slaps roused the sleeping man, who sat disoriented for a moment until he saw all the "guards'" corpses.
"Oh, oh Gods. Please don't kill me, I'll give you anything you want!"
Tybalt bent to level his blazing red eyes with the merchants'.
"What exactly did you have to do with this, eh?"
"W-what? I was jjust trying to buy some wine from the wwarden when you came in and KILLED them! Are are you escaped prisoners or starting a jailbreak?! I won't get in the way, I swear. J-just let me live and you'll never hear from me again!"
The investigators exchanged glances. It sounded like he was telling the truth.
"Listen,"began Tybalt,"These men were impersonating the warden and the guards. They were escaped convicts. In fact, while you were unconscious, the man pretending to be the warden attempted to use you as a hostage. The real warden was locked in the cellars with a bunch of monsters."
"Yyou're joking!",squealed the merchant, before realizing that there was no humor in the Hellbred's expression. "Oh, oh dear. Well, it seems I was on the verge of making a terrible error."
"I think we deserve a reward for keeping you from harm, don't you think?",said Karak, his cold avian eyes darting to the chests that the "guards" had lunged for before being cut down. "I mean, you wouldn't want your involvement in this known, now would you?"
Tybalt shot the kenku a black look. The merchant blanched a bit further.
"Well, ah, I suppose...",began the merchant.
"We won't take dirty money. Keep your coins and be more careful in the future.",said the paladin.
Karak shook his head and made a small clucking nose in the back of his throat.
"Thank you, sir.",said the relieved merchant,"I'll just get these back in my wagon and be out of your hair, so to speak!"
When the merchant was gone, Edward turned to Tybalt.
"You know, a little money wouldn't hurt. Especially after all the trouble we've gone to. And those horses weren't free, you know."
Tybalt crossed his arms. "I won't be party to blackmail. Even if you and the bird can somehow justify it to yourselves, I won't be part of it."
Edward shrugged. "Eh, it's not like he would be hurtin' without it. But I get your point."
Karak simply turned his back and began rifling through the dead men's belongings, divvying up coin. "Of all the people in the world, I get stuck with the Infernal Boy Scout.", he may have been thinking.
"So if the warden wasn't really the warden,"said the raven-kith, shoving a handful of gold into one of his pouches,"we can't really trust that he told us the right prisoners to release."
"Right.",replied Edward, as he began to pace (studiously avoiding entrails and bloodstains) "I suppose we should check out the office, see what that letter really said."
"We were told not to read the letter.", said Tybalt, before adding,"But I suppose these are...special circumstances."
The trio made sure that the false warden was securely manacled and unconscious before heading down the hallway to the warden's office. Pausing, they returned to the false warden and retrieved the key from around his neck that they had seen him use to open the safe.
In the well-furnished office, Tybalt headed for the safe behind the desk while Karak rifled through the desk drawer itself. In the safe, Tybalt found a rack of numbered keys, a large leather-bound ledger and a coffer of gold coins. He left the keys and coins undisturbed, but picked up the ledger.
In the desk, Karak found the letter they had been handed by their contact in the Styes. Reading it, he found that they were supposed to bring a man named Lyle Benedict and Blessed of Pelor (whom they had met below) back to the Styes' prison. Tybalt had some interesting findings in the ledger; this was no ordinary prison. Listed were not only the names, cell numbers and reasons for incarceration of all prisoners but also a list of paying parties, with a gold piece amount! This was where governments and the social elite sent people they wanted "disappeared".
The kenku and the Hellbred exchanged information, finding out where their prisoners had been kept and why they were held. Blessed of Pelor was incarcerated for "heresy" of some sort. This Lyle Benedict was in there for charges of murder, but the trio remembered that the cell he was kept in...had been empty.
"Do you think we killed him by accident?",wondered Karak.
"How would we know?",said Tybalt.
Edward thought for a moment. "Wait, I remember there were four guards when we came in. But we've only fought three up here. Plus the deceased Mr. Dee downstairs. Maybe Benedict is our missing fourth guard?"
"But where would he be? I haven't seen him up here.", replied the Hellbred.
"Maybe back in the cellars someplace?", ventured Karak.
Another pressing issue presented itself: who was going to keep up the prison while the warden was incapacitated? The three of them wouldn't be able to do it and the nearest town was a few days away. They couldn't let everyone out, but they couldn't let them starve down there.
The party quickly hatched a plan: get Oban out of the cell, put him in charge of his father-in-law and the prison and send help on the way back to the Styes.
They grabbed the keys they would require from the safe and headed for the elevator. Since someone would have to stay behind to work the crank, Edward elected to stay up top. They crammed the still bound false warden into the lift with them, in order to return him to a cell.
Upon their arrival back in the entranceway to the prison cellars, the investigators were surprised to see a man in a guard uniform laying face down on the dirty floor; a nasty bump on the back of his head. Tybalt checked his pulse: still alive. With another set of manacles, he secured the unconscious man, just in case.
"Looks like someone else may have gotten loose.",remarked the paladin as he unsheathed his blade. Karak did the same. They stowed the recently discovered man in a dark corner and picked up their other prisoner. The kenku and the hellbred kept an eye to the shadows as they progressed to the cell block. Everyone was where they had left them in the first hallway. The duo stowed the false warden in a cell, removed the manacles and locked him in again and then continued on their way.
"Hey, Oban. We got a proposition for you.", said Karak.
"Okay,"replied the wary young man,"does it involve me getting out of this cell?"
"Yeah, it does.",said Tybalt,"We have to leave soon and your father-in-law is in bad shape. You need to take care of him and the prison until we can get some help for you up here."
Oban was taken aback for a second. "Well, I suppose I could for a little while..."
Tybalt popped the door open for the gawky young man. However, Karak wasn't finished with him.
"Listen. You take care of this like you agreed, or else you're going to regret it. And believe me, putting you back into your cell won't even be the half of it.",said the kenku, inches from Oban's face. Oban started to sweat.
"Oh, y-you won't have to worry about me, I-I'll take c-care of it."
The two adventurers walked the warden's son-in-law to the cell containing the half transformed man.
"MERCIFUL GODS!",shrieked Oban, upon seeing Warden Parks,"What happened to him?!"
"This is what happens when you cheat on a man's daughter.",replied Tybalt.
Oban's lip began to tremble. "Bbut I didn't! Oh, gods..."
"I'm just kidding, man.",said Tybalt, with a slap on the back,"Those monsters tried to make him into one of them. He should be okay with a few weeks or a few months of bed rest."
"Okay. Where are we taking him?",said Oban.
"I guess upstairs to a bed.", replied Karak. "And you're carrying him, 'cause I'm not touching that thing."
"This is the worst birthday ever.",sniffled Oban as he wrapped his step-father in a soiled bedsheet from the cot.
On the way back to the elevator, the group stopped at Blessed of Pelor's cell. Tybalt opened the door, manacles at the ready.
"Time to go.",he said.
"Sir, I'm not leaving this cell until you reinstitute the safety and provisioning measures in place before all of this trouble or until you free all of these prisoners.",replied the serene heretic.
"Well, you'll be glad to hear that once we leave Oban over there is going to take care of things until the Warden is up and running again. We'll send out for supplies and some guards to help out on the way. How about that?",replied the Hellbred.
Blessed of Pelor thought it over, nodded and presented his wrists to be manacled.
The group continued on down the corridor. When they took a right, Oban spoke up.
"Um, you know, it may be kind of tough for me to take care of everyone on my own.",he remarked.
"Am I gonna have to put you back in your cell?!",replied the testy Karak.
"NO! No!",exclaimed Oban,"I'm just saying, you know, Mr. Whitedress the surgeon over here always struck me as an okay sort. What about letting him out to help me until more assistance arrives?"
Tybalt and Karak looked at each other for a moment, weighing their options. Tybalt didn't detect any evil intentions from the old man in the cell. But that didn't mean he could be trusted.
"Hey,"began Tybalt,"listen, if we let you out you have to help the kid here. If you try and escape, we'll find you one way or another, is that understood?"
Nis Whitedress nodded,"Of course, of course. I would be pleased to help in the wake of this nightmare."
So their ragtag parade of former prisoners and freakish adventurers grew by one to a grand total of six, with Karak in the front, followed by Tybalt.
What they saw in the next cell gave the group a bit of pause. The cell was empty of its seemingly unconscious resident. The adventurers readied their weapons as they approached the door to the processing area.
Karak saw the filthy, stringy-haired convict a moment before he brought the makeshift club to bear against the kenku. Deflecting the attack wiht a parry from his sickle, Karak struck back, causing a bit of damage. Tybalt muttered in frustration as the reprobate kept them in a bottleneck in the hallway, preventing the Hellbred from bringing his sword arm into play.
After several seconds of slashing, thrusting and parrying (Oban squealing all the while), the escaped con finally landed a lucky strike on Karak's noodle, sending him to the floor. Moving quickly, Tybalt stepped over his fallen associate to attack their assailant. Another few moments of combat passed until Tybalt finally landed a subduing stoke with the flat of his blade. Kneeling to Karak, the Hellbred poured a healing potion down the wounded kenku's throat, restoring him to consciousness.
They bundled up the convict and carried him back to his cell. Moving back to the lift, Tybalt and Karak yelled up to Edward that they would be sending up their charges. They started with Warden Parks (eliciting a hearty "EWW!" from Edward) and Oban, then the subdued "guard", then Nis Whitedress and Karak finally followed by Tybalt and Blessed of Pelor.
Once up top, the Warden was bundled off to bed in the hopes of recovery. The identity of the unconscious guard was determined as none other than the Lyle Benedict the party was seeking. Oban presented the PCs with the coffer from the safe, asking them to send a wagon of provisions and, if possible, some new guards from nearby settlements to help out. The upstairs supplies would hold out for a few days, maybe a week if they were careful with rationing. Assuring the nervous new master of the Chateau de Prison that they would do just as he asked, the adventurers hooded their prisoners, gathered supplies for the road back to the Styes and set off with the sunset. Edward and Karak shared a horse while the Lyle and Blessed of Pelor were placed on their own, lead by Tybalt.
Next update: A spontaneous street faire and a reward for a job well done.
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"This is what happens when you cheat on a man's daughter."
"And you're carrying him, 'cause I'm not touching that thing."
"This is the worst birthday ever."
Gold!
So, how long do you give it before Tybalt and Karak come to blows (or at least a “Screw you guys, I’m going home” moment) over their ethical differences?