1000 gp
2 bags worth of assorted gemstones
12 velvet bags
wand (from treasure chest)
earth elemental gem (currently in Seann’s possession).
small jade coffer
as much as we could take of 1500 sp
as much as we could take of 7500 cp
(note – some of the above cp and sp look archaic and might have some value to a collector?)
sewer-soiled masterwork(?) studded leather armour
Penkus’ left eye (currently in Terin’s head)
magical (?) diamond earring – currently in Tyndal’s possession.
Illegible map on human-skin parchment
Small pin (comedy/tragedy mask)
36 silver pieces
6 tallow candles
2 vials of grease paint (white/black)
magic ring (worn by Harven)
masterwork cold iron dagger (In Terin’s possession)
1 gp
4 sp
small, oiled leather pouch with silver clasp
two 25 foot coils of hemp rope
a half full wineskin
a rusty tableknife
3 soggy torches
tiny silver figurine of a knight on horseback (initials LV on base) – currently in Tyndal’s possession.
The 12 velvet bags each contained 100gp- so 1200 gp total there.
And someone can cast Prestidigitation and clean up the Mwk Studded Leather.
The 12 velvet bags each contained 100gp- so 1200 gp total there.
And someone can cast Prestidigitation and clean up the Mwk Studded Leather.
The 12 velvet bags each contained 100gp- so 1200 gp total there.
And someone can cast Prestidigitation and clean up the Mwk Studded Leather.
Ahhhh. Pay attention Terin.
Emerging from the long underwater tunnel, the party reorients themselves, swimming quickly upwards. The unusual but persistent and cheerful Lerod helps Harven through the tunnel, as the latter’s strength appears to be flagging.
Breaking through the surface, the group finds themselves in the middle of Sassarine’s harbor, not far from the Sunrise district. The swim towards land through the foamy brine cleanses the majority of the filth from them, though they still draw a number of curious looks from passersby. After the long stint crawling through the muck of Sassarine’s underbelly, the warm sunlight is equal parts harsh and welcoming, even with its being somewhat muted due to a dull, smoky haze enshrouding the city, and while significantly fresher than the sewers, you find the air has a cloying quality about it.
Struggling over the sea wall, the party flops into the streets of the Sunrise District not far from “The Shivering Cat” tavern. Gawkers turn from a nearby busker at your approach, who stops mid-performance to throw you a nasty look, then resumes his phantom incarceration within an invisible box.
A youth nearby calls loudly, “Buuurrrooowwwwd Sheets. Git yer’ broad sheets. If the news isn’t on one of these here broad sheets, you don’t need to know it. A copper a piece or 4 copper for all 5 sheets.”
“This just in, read all about it: Warehouse fire devastates merchant district, besotted guards hung for dereliction, missing twin still on the run!”
“Dock master Islaran murdered in sleep! New position to be appointed today.”
“Buuurrrooowwwwd Sheets.”
“F#&~.” Eldin hangs his head, bending over, hands on knees for a moment before looking up. “Does what passes for justice move so fast in this town? Hung, or about to be hung? Give me that!” He practically throws a silver coin at the youth, and grabs a handful of broadsheets, quickly scanning the headlines.
Dammit. That saddens me. A crazy pyro with a foot fetish has caused the death of some guards.....perhaps we can clear their name to give the families some sense of closure....
What should we do now, team?
"Lets chat about this at an establishment with drink. I think we've all had a hard day's work and need it. We need to get off the streets before the gutterswine notice that we're literally leaking coins"
Agreed. I could use a good meade.
Hey, news-hawker, where is the closest tavern or bar that is not infested with dreks? There are a couple coins in it for you for a good, quick answer.
(listens to reply)
Hey Lerod, here we are. The City. What do you......Harven? You seem to be a little peaked, was the swim too much for you or are you feeling some sort of illness coming on. Traipsing through sewer-muck can give one quite a chill, you know. Just a bit further and you can rest, friend, with some good brew, a thick blanket, and some warm supper.
Harven begs off on the tavern, citing the need to lie down, and asks to meet him at the same inn you all previously frequented before the party heads to visit Lavinia.
"We're here!", screams Lerod at the top of his voice.
Wow. We really made it. So this is the place? Let's get some drinks, meet some people!
Be well friend and rest easy. We shall meet later at our favorite haunt.
The date on the broadsheets reveal three full days have passed since your decent into the sewers.
Eldin scans the headlines, reading the broadsheets aloud as Terin and Tyndal guide him around obstacles and into the tavern, Anders and the QLM close on their heels.
“…series of explosions rocked Sassarine earlier this week as an Arabani warehouse burned to the ground, taking several nearby businesses and residences with it. In a rare instance of citywide cooperation, watch members from every district worked 18 hours without rest….bucket brigade….few casualties…”
“Here we are.”
“…warehouse workers arriving on the scene on the blaze recognized a trio of hired house guards and discovering them to be inebriated, formed an impromptu lynch mob. The guards were hanged…watch occupied…no arrests have yet been made…”
Eldin pages through a series of advertisements for local businesses and “help wanted” listings.
“…two other sentries were discovered unconscious near the scene of the alleged arson, one of which is currently awaiting questioning by the Dawn Council, while the other managed to escape and is believed to be hiding somewhere within the Shadowshore District…reward…capture…witnesses sought…”
Passing up a third broadsheet of personals, horoscopes, and ribald poetry, Eldin continues,
“The body of renowned and well respected dock master Keltar Islaran was discovered today at home in his bed following his failure to report to work….always punctual…suspicious…long line of dock masters”
“…details sketchy, but unnamed sources close to the Islaran family report that Lord Islaran was not only murdered, but in an especially malicious way….eviscerated…corpse defiled …”
“….survived by…heirs missing…interest of commerce…city to appoint temporary replacement immediately…
Turning over the final sheet, Eldin discovers it to be weather, scores for a sport called “Frungy,” and some rather pointed political cartoons.
After reading the broadsheet out to his companions, Eldin looks up. “Three days! Fharlanghn’s calloused feet, we weren’t down there for three days! Unless …” he looks back at the QLM. “Lerod … when that blast knocked us all out – except you – how long were we out?” He waits a few moments, then mutters, “No, can’t have been … maybe the planar breach…?”
“Is there any way we can help that sentry – it is hardly his fault that we bluffed our way in, and a madman decided to target us without concern for collateral damage… We’ll need to clean up and have something to eat though – we’ll hardly persuade the Dawn Council of anything in these filthy rags.”
The outlandish man looks up from his plate with furrowed brows and, mouth full of food, declares, “Mupplefrump leptchas” before returning to his gluttonous repast. His table manners are quite frankly nonexistent, and several patrons move to tables farther away as bits of food and drink spray from his lips, unnoticed in his frenzied orgy of victuals.
A nearby noble mutters something about “adventurers ruining the economy” into his wineglass.
The party revels well into the evening, recovering from their ordeal, spending a little incredibly hard-earned cash, and discussing potential plans for exonerating the sentry without exposing themselves to legal repercussion.
Shortly after dusk, a small Halfling woman rushes into the tavern. From her swollen eyes and black-lined face, it is obvious she has been crying. Her blouse is partially unbuttoned, and blood spatter splotches the front of her clothing.
“I’ve been searching the city for you. You have to come quickly. Your friend....he…there’s been an accident…”
She stops for a moment, attempting to collect herself and speak around the tightening lump in her throat.
“Mistress has been in council meetings all day; I came to see if you had returned yet, so I could tell you your friend Davrick had completed the repairs to your boat, apparently he called in some favors and assembled quite a work crew. The innkeeper told me Harven had come in this afternoon, so I thought it would be nice to surprise him…”
The small women’s exposition collapses into wracking sobs, and she buries her face in her hands.
“I can’t….You have to go there. The watch is there investigating now. Please!”
Eldin stands quickly, pushing back his chair hard enough that it falls to the ground. "Where is Harven? The inn?" He races out, fearing that he is probably too late ... the state Kora is in ... and if the watch is investigating ... He offers a silent prayer to Fharlanghn that he may help his companion walk whatever path he now walks.
Tyndal stands...probably a little too quickly as his view is slightly askew. His sudden movement tumbles the small pyramid of shot glasses he has accumulated.
"What happend to the little bastard? Letss go find out!"
Spitting in his lap to clear his mouth.
“Wait…we’re leaving the food?”
Begins to stuff his pockets hastily.
Anders leaps to his feet and turns to run for the door. Or, at least tries to. His act of standing up is quite wobbly, and involves something of a backwards lean. Then, when he turns to go, his foot catches behind the legs of the chair, and his attempt to run to Harven's side serves only to send him sprawling face first across the tavern floor, arms flailing.
Without missing a beat, Anders stands up again and staggers headlong toward the door.
*Terin leaps up with cat-like reflexes, instantly dismissing his mild foggyness.*
Lead the way, Kora, we follow!
*after we get outside Terin tells Kora to hop on his back to make better time then shifts into Beast-form to lead the party to their small companion's side, making sure not to out-distance them.*
Dammit. That saddens me. A crazy pyro with a foot fetish has caused the death of some guards.....perhaps we can clear their name to give the families some sense of closure....
What should we do now, team?
Seann's face turns the color of spoiled milk at the news.
"I need a drink. Now."
The color only just returned to the mage's face, he blances once more at Kora's outburst. Clutching a long glass flute of his preferred drink, pale ale mixed with sugar and absinthe, (his fifth), Seann sprints out the door, showing no sign whatsoever of inebriation.
"I hope to the gods that this isn't my fault. If it is, I won't be able to live with myself..."
The party rushes pell-mell to the noble’s district, food spilling from QLM’s voluminous pockets as they run. Reaching Ancestor’s Rest at a dead run, they pause barely long enough for the doors to swing open before rushing towards the guest quarters, panting for air.
Three watch members stand outside the door, one with a ringed notepad. After you identify yourselves as associates of Harven, the sergeant agrees to allow you into the room following some brief questioning, jotting down the names and descriptions of the party members. Before you cross the threshold, she admonishes, “Better buck up, this isn’t pretty.”
A ghastly stench envelops the otherwise affluent lodgings. Harven lies limply upon the edge of the bed, slacks around his ankles. Blood splatter covers the ceiling and wall opposite where he lay, excepting for a large area in the reverse silhouette of what you assume to be a Halfling woman. The ruin of his stomach and chest form a hollow, ribs spread outward as if his insides had exploded forcefully. Coagulated blood pools beneath the small man, though a copious amount runs in a streak down the bed sheet before settling onto the floor. A reddish-brown trail of inhuman prints runs from the mass collected on the wooden flooring, traveling from the bedside across the floor, up a wall, and then through a recently broken window, out into the night.
The sergeant looks down at her notes, paraphrasing, “Apparently an acquaintance had knocked up to uplift your friend’s spirits a bit. Things were progressing apace when he began screaming, a most…uh…unnatural thing to do given the circumstances. The report becomes a bit sketchy here, mind you, but apparently an insect of implausible size burst out from your friend and proceeded to make a hasty exit from the chamber.”
“If it weren’t for the shape he’s in, I’d have dragged her to the sanatorium."
"We’re almost done here, would you like to claim any of the victim’s personal effects before we wrap him up? Any family we should contact?”
It’s beautiful, isn’t it? Harven became a father! It is sad he was too small though, poor thing, out there without any protection.
It’s beautiful, isn’t it? Harven became a father! It is sad he was too small though, poor thing, out there without any protection.
Seann, now a nasty shade of puce, comes very close to backhanding the queer little man.
"What is your gods-damned problem? He was our friend! ... You were involved, weren't you."
The mage gives Lerod a wild-eyed stare, his fingertips crackling with green lightning.
"What did you DO?"
Tyndal, looks from the ruin that was the little man, to the QLM. Almost as if by thought, his flail in his hand, with the chain swinging towards Lerod's head.
Tyndal, looks from the ruin that was the little man, to the QLM. Almost as if by thought, his flail in his hand, with the chain swinging towards Lerod's head.
Seann, seeing Tyndal out of the corner of his eye, steps into the swing of the flail, taking it full in the chest.
With a grunt of pain, his eyes flashing, he speaks to the fighter.
"Nh... I wanted... to hear him... say it..."
The mage spits a bloody gobbet onto the floor. He points a shaking finger at the little man.
"What... did you do? ... Tell me... Or tell him... Your... choice."
"Tyndal, NO!"
Too late to stop the initial attack, Anders tries to interpose himself between Lerod and the others. Turning to the queer little man, Anders shoves him against the wall (that is, if the man still lives after Tyndal's assault.
"You better tell us what you know, Lerod. It's your only chance. I doubt it is within my power to prevent these two from putting an end to you, and frankly I'm not sure I'm so inclined. Now TALK! Or make peace with whatever gods you call yours."
“Oh Far-walker, protect and guide Harven’s spirit on his final journey. See that he arrives safely, and that his path is not over-long.”
Eldin finishes the quiet prayer over his friend’s body just as a commotion breaks out behind him. Assessing the situation, he pulls out the healing wand, preparing to mend Seann’s cracked ribs, but as he does so he says quietly to the little man, “Do the rest of us bear your children also?”
He looks up at the others. “Anyone else feeling a little ill after that meal? I suggest we all attend the nearest temple with all haste. Bring him along. He can talk on the way.”
He turns to the guard. “Sergeant – I suggest you have your best trackers follow that trail as quickly as possible. We’ll return to talk to you as soon as we can.”
The strange and now apparently potentially dangerous little man screams in terror and ducks behind Seann and Anders. Answering Eldin’s softer questioning he whispers, “Yes, everyone except Tyndal.”
Voice rising as he continues, he adds,“I was desperate. We only reproduce once, and I was right, don’t you see? Tyndal already murdered one of my children by accident! It’s ok though, we’ll all be one big family soon!”
Eldin can confirm the creature was not a Slaad, though the manner of reproduction is similar.
Terin, still in beast-form, tries to find a trail of some sort from the beast to determine what it could be
The scratch marks leading to the window and the light scent of a dung trail would seem to confirm Kora’s tale of a giant insect.
The Beast becomes Elf again.
I tried to kill him. I told you all that he should be killed. F**K! I shoulda went with my gut and shredded the f**ker when I had the chance.
Listen, Lerod or Vanthus, or whatever you f**kin' wish to be called. You tell us how to get these things out or I will shred you now! Start talking!!
Hee-hee.
Get…rid…of? No, no, no, no. Don’t you understand? You are all part of something special now! I’ve given you an incredible gift.
You have brought us to the new world. I have nothing but the best interests of my children at heart!
Let’s all sleep this over. I bet you will see things from a fresh perspective in the morning!
"Dammit Seann. Don't get in the way next time. I'm done talking to the thing...its gotta die."
Tyndal holds from attacking again, but watches the QLM with murderous intent, one of his many weapons close at hand.
*Terin moves towards Lerod/Vanthus drawing his scimitar as he goes*
I told you to tell us how to get them out of us!
*Terin places his blade across the man's throat*
Speak or die. Now!
*Terin is readying an attack also for if the little man tries to move away or decides not to tell.*
Someone with knowledge of the healing arts may have to try to remove these with a dagger, dig out the infection so to speak. Eldin? Are you versed in anatomy? You may be our only chance of survival after I kill this little creature.
Blue and gold lights dance upon Seann's wound, but the mage does not seem to notice.
A grim expression on his face, he wraps one of his large hands around Lerod's neck, lifting the strange ... thing up to eye level.
"What are you?"
“Terin, Tyndal, don’t kill him – at least not yet,” says Eldin sharply. “We might need him yet, we can argue about whether we should have killed him before later. Keep a tight hold of him though.”
He pauses to catch his breath and then keeps talking. “I am quite knowledgeable about anatomy and can patch serious wounds, but I am no surgeon. If needs be I will attempt to cut these things out of us, but I would prefer to get to a temple – it is possible that a cure disease spell might rid our bodies of these parasites, and if not at least there may be more experienced surgeons than I there.”
“Lerod, when did Tyndal kill one of your children? When he got splashed by the potions in the broken chest? Which one did it?” he asks the queer little man. He then turns to Terin.
“Terin, Penkus’ eye told you that “Lerod” here was attacked by a giant bug? What more can it tell you of the bug or the attack?”
Let me "see". Penkus, do you have any "insight" into this predicament? Anything that would help us "focus". If you are willing to teach me about the creature that attacked Lerod, I will be your "pupil".