| Alex Y |
My group just started on the Rise of the Runelords Adventure Path, but we played through Hollow's Last Hope with 1st level NPC classes first. The following are our adventures.
***
“Father Aesopos, right?” Asked a large man with very little neck. “It’s me – Herakleos Scarnetti – my uncle told me to keep an eye out for you. Howyoudoin?”
“Er, I’m doing fine.” Aesop gestured vaguely at the long line of people waiting outside the herbalist’s shop. “Some line, huh?” A rosy-cheeked youth coughed delicately beside Aesop. “Oh, where are my manners – Zu, this is Jer’kles, cousin on my father’s side; Jerk, this is Zuzeca, cousin on my mother’s side.”
The youth looked solemnly at the much larger man. “I am Zuzeca Iwaha Sapa. I am pleased to meet you, Herc.”
“Jerk,” the man corrected. “Like you’re clearing your throat. My grandfather loves those old Thassilonian names, so we’re kinda stuck with ‘em.” Jerk eyed Zu cautiously. “So you sick, too?”
Aesop nodded. “I’m afraid so. His fever is better, but he is still coughing. He is young and strong, but my prayers are having little effect.”
“Prayers, hah!” Spat a weathered farmer, overhearing the conversation. “If the gods were kind, would they afflict us so? My pigs are heaving their lungs out! Hey Scarnetti, can’t you pull rank and get this line moving?”
Jerk frowned. “Don’t blaspheme, Emilio, or you’ll regret it. But you’re right about this line – come on!” The large man began to walk past the waiting villagers, but was suddenly stopped by a pretty man with silver hair and golden eyes.
“Alton says: you are making a big mistake,” the otherworldly man intoned, as a mob of sickly villagers began to grumble at Jerk’s obvious intent to cut to the front of the line. “The Sheriff will be here soon – do you really want to start something?”
Jerk sneered, but walked back to his place in line. “One day, Alton: you and me. One day…”
***
“Godsdamnit!” Fumed Emilio. “Moss? Witches and rat tails? Dwarven mushrooms? What does blessed Sarenrae think about all this hocus-pocus now, Father Aesop?”
“She moves in mysterious ways, my friend. This is why my cousins and I will seek out these strange ingredients, so that we can find a cure to this disease. Since you know where the dwarven monastery is – will you take us there?”
Emilio rubbed his head. “I suppose so. But what about the oldest tree in the forest? Or the hut of the witch Gargamella? You heard what the herbalist said about the witch – she took her granny’s sight in return for forbidden knowledge! Who knows what she might demand from us?” Emilio pointed a trembling finger at Jerk. “What if she demands your first-born son?”
Jerk grinned and winked at Zu. “Everyone knows that witches prefer barbarians. Better watch your sh-weet Sho-anti sh-elf, Cuz!” When no one laughed, Jerk blustered on. “Just follow me to camp – my man Milon knows the Vale like the back of his hand.”
***
“What do you want?” Jerk started to explain, but was stopped by the grizzled ranger after two sentences. “Who are those a+#+@@&s?” Jerk started to introduce the others, but was interrupted when Milon spotted Alton. “What the hell is that? What do you mean it’s Alton? Da-yum, that boy cleans up. Thought you brought back a camp follower for a second there.” Jerk sighed but continued. “The Eldest Tree? Sure, I know where that is. But I don’t know no witch named Gargamella.” Emilio began describing the witch and her hut, but Milon stopped him when talk turned to a cat named Azrael. “You be talking about Uzmila. She don’t keep no cat – just bones…lots of bones. Tell you what: I’ll draw you a map if you’ll hurry back and give my boy first taste of your medicine. Deal?” Jerk nodded. “Good! Just take the dwarf on your way out – the boss is tired of listening to him talk about his red hammer.”
***
“I am Baltin Redhammer, son of Lord Redhammer of Janderhoff, here on a quest to redeem the lost monastery of Torag the Forge-Father.” The dwarf looked impressive, with his waraxe and his splint mail and his mule. “And who might ye be?”
Emilio sketched a feeble salute with his pitchfork. “Ye be…I mean, I be…I mean, I am Emilio. Son of William. Off to find some mushrooms for my pigs…” Emilio deflated, and motioned for assistance.
“Greetings Baltin. I am Alton.” Alton stepped forward. “What our guide meant to say is: we will take you to the monastery.”
“But we gotta stop at a tree and a hut first.” Jerk interjected.
“Right: the Eldest Tree and the hut of Uzmila the Witch.” Alton clarified, as Emilio made the sign to ward off evil. “You seem better armed than we: will you travel with us?”
“Absolutely!” Baltin roared. “This is the best news I’ve heard all day! Finally…an adventure!”
| Alex Y |
Zuzeca was leading the party of would-be adventurers north towards Darkmoon Lake when he suddenly held up a hand. “Do you hear that? It sounds like an animal, whimpering.”
Baltin shifted creakily from atop his mule. “I don’t hear anything.”
“I hear something,” confirmed Emilio. “Coming from the left?”
Zu nodded. “Follow me…quietly.” Moments later, Zu held up his hand again. “See that?” He pointed towards the shore of the lake. “That fox – or maybe it’s a fennec – has been trapped near the water’s edge.”
Baltin shrugged. “So?”
“So I’m going to get closer, to see if I need to put it down.” Zu hefted his javelin. “Keep an eye out – its cries may have attracted other things than us.” And with that happy thought, the Shoanti brave stalked towards the trapped animal.
The party watched nervously. Suddenly, an arrow streaked from the tree line and buried itself in Zu’s thigh. “Argh!” Zu screamed as he dove for cover.
“Alton says: take cover!” The golden-eyed man pronounced as he sprinted towards a fallen log.
“Never!” Baltin bellowed as he sprinted towards Zu, axe high. “For Redhammer!”
“Turn around, dumbass! He’s over there! Oh for crying out loud…” Jerk stood and charged the trees. With a muttered prayer, the large man hurled a javelin into the trees and was rewarded by a cry of pain.
“Await the dawn,” whispered Aesop as he motioned towards the trees. Seconds later, two crows and a hobgoblin fell sleepily from the branches. Though the hobgoblin would awaken upon impact with the ground, Jerk soon sent him on his way with a crushing shield bash.
“That’s for shooting my cousin, you ugly sonofab+%$!,” Jerk spat. “Yo Zu, you okay?”
The young brave grimaced as he snapped the arrow shaft and pushed the head through his thigh. I’ve had better days, Zu decided as he chanted a minor curative spell over his leg. “I’m fine! I think this fennec will live, too!”
Emilio raised an eyebrow. “How nice. The fennec will live, too.”
Jerk shrugged. “My grandfather says that projection is healthy, and is better than obsessing over one’s own wounds. Hey, help me with this armor – I think this hobgob’s just my size.”
***
The party stared at the upside-down bodies of three sprites, staked rudely to a dead pine tree. Trails of rainbow-colored blood glittered in the sunlight. Deep goat-like hoof tracks clomped around the macabre tableau.
“I don’t know what’s going on, but I know that ain’t natural,” declared Emilio with a gesture to ward off the devil’s notice.
“Should we bury them?” Aesop wondered.
Jerk snorted. “Hell no. Whoever did this wanted everyone to know not to f!$& with his bad ass. We’re leaving!”
| Alex Y |
Jerk was in love with the Eldest Tree. It was half again as tall as the nearest darkwood and its trunk was more than twice as wide. Its massive branches spanned a distance further than Jerk could hurl his javelin. It was easily worth a million gold pieces, if only he could haul it to market…
“So, how’s he doing?” Aesop asked.
“What?” Jerk looked startled.
“Zu. You said you’d spot him as he climbed the Eldest Tree.”
“Oh.” Jerk glanced upwards. “He’s doing great. Practically a tree rat. He’s like a dire tree rat, or maybe even a were tree rat. Yeah. Doing great.”
“Wait. What’s he doing? He’s jumping!” Aesop watched in horror as Zu took a flying leap off a darkwood bough.
“What were you thinking, you dumbass?!” Jerk demanded as the Shoanti youth crash-landed, accompanied by a shower of leaves and branches. “You could have died, or worse!” Zu simply groaned, and began reaching for his dagger. Seeing this, Jerk immediately readied his axe.
“What are you waiting for?” Aesop whispered after a few seconds. Before Zu could answer, a giant snake-like creature with razor-sharp claws dropped from the Eldest Tree and snapped at Jerk’s face, missing his nose by an inch. Jerk cursed, and began shouting for the others.
The serpent dodged Jerk’s wild axe swings with ease, but it seemed to be having second thoughts. Luckily, a much smaller meal lumbered from around the bush at that moment. “Well done, Baltin!” Alton cheered as the serpent lunged at the dwarf and began coiling around him. “You have him right where we want him: distracted and vulnerable!”
Ignoring its noxious breath, Baltin head-butted the snake and forced it to the ground, where it was promptly stabbed, bludgeoned, and hacked to death. “For Redhammer!” Baltin roared. “What did we kill?”
Zu wiped his bloody dagger on the grass. “We killed a tatzlwyrm. It had a nest in the trees, where it had stashed some bodies. I can bring the corpses down, if you wish to examine them.”
“That’s a good idea. Some hunters went missing a few weeks ago – this wyrm may have gotten them.” Jerk toed the serpent. “Anyone know if wyrm is good eats?”
Emilio waved his cleaver. “We’ll find out soon! Bacon and wyrmchops for dinner!”
| Alex Y |
Emilio clutched at a protective charm. “Is that it?”
Zu nodded grimly. The party looked upon a clearing littered with bone fetishes, in the middle of which squatted a rundown shack. No one moved.
Alton squared his shoulders and strode boldly into the clearing. After six steps, a gust of wind rattled all the bone fetishes. Alton froze.
Baltin unslung his axe and charged the shack. When the dwarf continued to draw breath after he kicked open the front door, the others laughed and sauntered in with exaggerated nonchalance…and stopped when Emilio pointed fearfully at the seated figure in the far corner. “It’s her! It’s the witch Gargamella…I mean, Uzmila!”
“Howyoudoin?” Jerk hailed the witch. “Sorry about your door – we’re just here for a rat’s tail.” When the figure did not respond, Jerk crept forward. “No need to get up…I’m just…gonna… pokeyouwithmyaxeyoustuffedsackofshitohmygodyouscaredmehalftodeath.” Jerk turned around with a smile. “It’s just a scarecrow.”
The party searched. And searched. And searched some more. Aesop found some statuettes. Zu found a bag of colored salt. Emilio found a rat’s tail, but dropped it when its owner (an actual rat) tried to bite him. Frustrated, Jerk suggested burning down the shack.
“Rejoice, my friends, for I have found it: the rat’s tail root. And look, a shrunken head.” Alton held aloft a small jar and a small head, and nearly dropped both when the head opened its eyes and mouth and swore vengeance against those who would steal from the witch Uzmila. As one, the party ran for the door. Unfortunately, the rusty cauldron in the middle of the room was waiting. It leapt up and crushed Alton beneath its considerable bulk, and began growling and biting at the others.
“How do we kill it?” Emilio yelled as he stabbed ineffectually at the cauldron with his pitchfork.
“Circle it and beat it down!” And the party did just that.
***
“At last! The lost monastery of Torag the Forge-Father! You have done well, friend Emilio,” praised Baltin. “Let us push on, and find your mushrooms!”
“Fuggedaboutit. It’s dark, and my feet are killing me. Let’s go to bed – good Father Aesop can use some sleep after his encounter with that f+##ing dire mosquito.”
“Ah yes, I keep forgetting that humans cannot see well at night. What about you, Alton?”
“The jerk speaks rightly: we should wait until dawn. Who’s taking first watch?”
Jerk narrowed his eyes at the uncommon wisdom. “You are.”
| Alex Y |
“I’m sorry those wolves tore you a new one,” Jerk lied unconvincingly to Alton as Aesop changed the aasimar’s bloody bandages. “If it makes you feel better, I didn’t sleep comfortably, safe in that tree.”
“Why do you bait him?” Aesop asked later, as the party picked its way through the underbrush.
Jerk shrugged. “Because he’s young? Because he’s a monster magnet? Because I think he’s sleeping with my girlfriend? Why do you care?”
Aesop shrugged. “According to the priestess of Iomedae, Alton means well but needs direction. I thought I would counsel him.”
“Is that what you call it these days?” Jerk snorted. “Look, I don’t care what you and Zu do in the medicine lodge, but Alton ain’t Shoanti, or even half-Shoanti…”
“Shut up.” Aesop interrupted. “Look, I appreciate everything that your family has done for me, but you know nothing about me, or Zu, or even Alton. Get a clue: your uncle doesn’t like you, and talking like him won’t bring you two closer. If you want to help your girlfriend, let’s find those mushrooms and get back – it’s already been two days.”
***
“See that?” Zu pointed at the narrow path in the middle of the hall. “Wolf tracks. From what’s left of that body we found by the well, I’d say they’ve been living here since last winter.”
“Can you tell how many there are?” Alton asked nervously. “After all: knowing is half the battle.”
Zu shook his head. “I’m surprised that wolves would even live here. But I was surprised that they would attack armed men, too – we should stay together.” Zu pointed at the door on the right. “Jerk, do the honors?”
Jerk readied axe and shield, and then kicked down the door with a loud shout. When no monstrous spider came jumping out, he waved Alton in. “Darkvision sure is handy,” Jerk decided. Baltin agreed.
After a few seconds, Alton gave the all-clear: “Just a dead dwarf with a silvered hammer and a piece of parchment. No mushrooms.”
Jerk pointed at the door on the left. “Next?” Zu nodded. “Next!” Jerk proclaimed as he smashed down the door.
“You know, you’re making a lot of noise,” observed Alton as he began searching the small room. “Maybe you should just jiggle the handle a bit…hey, a mushroom!”
“Yeah, sure,” agreed Jerk as he passed the mushroom to Aesop, who put it with the rat’s tail root and the elderwood moss. “I’ll just…jiggle…this door.” Jerk pushed lightly at the double doors at the end of the hallway and was horrified to see them fall off the hinges and collapse slowly inward. “Did I do that?”
Emilio blinked. “I don’t think I have any charms that protect against irony.”
| Alex Y |
In the ruined chapel of an abandoned dwarven monastery, four men watched as the dwarf and the aasimar combed through the debris for lost artifacts and mushrooms, respectively.
“Yo Emilio, don’t you sell truffles on Wealdays? Why don’t you give Alton a hand?”
“I do sell truffles,” the pig farmer explained to the lumberjack, “But my pigs find them, not me. And you don’t see any pigs around, do you?”
“Not unless you count Jer’kles,” quipped the keen-eyed aasimar.
“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. But don’t come running to me the next time some monster eats you.” Jerk retorted.
“I promise: I will not run to you if I get eaten by a monster,” Alton pledged solemnly as the others laughed, seconds before two spheres of darkness descended upon him.
***
“For Redhammer!” The witch’s shrunken head cheered; Baltin seemed not to notice. “What did we kill?”
“They look like darkmantles,” Zu decided. “Er, Baltin, did you…do anything…with that shrunken head last night?”
“Not really. I mean, maybe I introduced myself. And maybe braided her hair.” Baltin tried to change the subject. “Hey, is Alton okay? And what’s that darkmantle holding in its tentacles?”
“Sarenrae heals thee.” Aesop pressed down firmly on Alton’s chest, eliciting a soft whump. “He’ll be fine. They almost strangled him to death, but the Lady has blessed him with the ability to dispel darkness with daylight. A few days of rest and he’ll be right as rain.”
“Too bad we don’t have a few days,” Jerk grunted as he pried a star-shaped ruby from the stony clutch of a dead darkmantle. “You know, this looks like it’ll fit on top of that anvil-shaped altar. Yo Baltin, slot this rock?” The dwarf reverently placed the star-shaped ruby into the center-most indentation of the altar, and was rewarded by a roaring HOO-AH, followed by a pulse of healing energy that revived the fallen aasimar.
“What did I miss?”
“Nothing,” Emilio said, as he eyed the altar of Torag the Forge-Father. “Nothing important.”
| Alex Y |
Revitalized by the blessing of Torag, the party exited the chapel and began following the wolf tracks. Jerk and Baltin charged through an open door, axes high, but found only a heavy stone writing desk shoved rudely against the wall. “All yours, buddy,” Jerk motioned at the desk, wrinkling his nose at the stench of wet dog. “Better hurry before the wolves get back – I think we just found their den.”
Baltin examined the desk with a practiced eye, and began removing its drawers and placing them beside him. He then took off his gauntlets and began rapping at the stone surface with his knuckles. With a grin, he reached inside a drawer opening and pulled out a hidden storage box. “A prayer book…a money pouch…and a handaxe. Want it, Jerk?”
Jerk was holding a battleaxe with one hand and a shield with the other. His javelin case rode low on his right hip, and the hobgoblin’s longsword was strapped on his back. The spider’s short sword was strapped to his right thigh, and the dead dwarf’s silvered hammer was tucked into his belt. “Nah, I’m good. Give it to Zu – a warrior needs more than daggers and javelins.”
“But I don’t know how to fight with an axe!” Zu protested. “What about Alton, or Emilio?”
Jerk looked at Alton, who was leaning heavily on a staff, and Emilio, who was clutching a pitchfork, and then Aesop, who was cradling a crossbow. Jerk shrugged. “How hard can it be? Just swing it like you mean it.”
***
Zu led the way into the next room, axe high. A pillar had toppled, and half the roof was missing. Mushrooms flourished in every corner. “Finally!” Aesop exclaimed. “Let’s pick some mushrooms and hurry back.”
I don’t think so, human. The party stared as a massive wolf materialized out of the darkness. Those are mine, as is everything in this monastery.
“Holy shit, it talks!” Jerk exclaimed. Thinking quickly, he addressed the wolf: “Listen, I know all about quid pro quo: if you give us those mushrooms, we’ll give you…a mule.”
“You better not be talking about my mule, unless you plan on carrying me and all my gear,” Baltin declared indignantly.
“Of course not – I was talking about Emilio’s mule: it’s young and tender, and plump, too!”
Emilio burst into tears. “But she’s been with me since birth!” The pig farmer addressed the wolf: “How about some wyrm steaks? I have at least fifty pounds, carefully seasoned and cooked to perfection. Surely wyrm tastes better than mule?”
The wolf considered the proposal. Hmm. I have not eaten wyrm before. Done! Leave the steaks, and I’ll let you know when you can come for the mushrooms.
Aesop quickly stepped up and addressed the wolf: “Why don’t we harvest those mushrooms while you eat? That way, you won’t need to rouse yourself after what will surely be a wonderful meal.”
The wolf nodded. Very well – follow me with your steaks. I want you gone by the time I finish my meal.
The party hastily agreed, and began unloading the wyrm steaks. Zu began collecting mushroom, but then motioned for Jerk. “What do we do about that?” The Shoanti brave asked, pointing towards a small chest in the corner.
Jerk opened it, and whistled at the sight of a crossbow half-buried in gold coins. “We take it, and run the f!+@ home.”
| Alex Y |
The party returned to Falcon’s Hollow without incident and was able to save the ailing townsfolk with a revolting herbal concoction made from elderwood moss, rat’s tail root, and ironbloom mushrooms. Unfortunately, there wasn’t enough left over to save the livestock.
Shaking his fist at the heavens, Emilio Sandoz, Varisian pig farmer, utters a particularly blasphemous complaint and vanishes in a puff of acrid green smoke.
Six months pass.
***
“Father Aesop! Cousin Zu!” A large man with very little neck savagely embraced a slightly thinner man in yellow robes and a slightly shorter man in leather armor. “Where the f!~~ have you been? Howyoudoin?”
“Doing well, Jerk, doing well. Sorry we missed your wedding – we must have visited every hamlet and village along the Yondabakari. By the time we got your note, you had already left Falcon’s Hollow.” Aesop kissed a hugely pregnant woman on both cheeks. “Rosa, you look as lovely as ever. From the looks of things, you may be a mother before month-end.”
“Yes, we’re hoping for a boy.” Rosa patted her belly. “Why Zu, you must have grown three inches over the summer. Have you found your father? No? Perhaps Desna will smile upon you this weekend – this festival is in her honor, you know.”
Jerk ushered his wife and cousins through the crowds. “I pulled a few strings and got us seats near the stage. I asked Father Abstalar about your role in the benediction, but he didn’t even know you were coming.”
Aesop shrugged. “I am but a simple servant of Sarenrae – I am happy just to be here. Besides, I’m on sabbatical and have no official responsibilities this year.”
“Must be nice – and I thought I was getting a sweet deal at the church of Nethys.” Jerk looked impressed.
“Church of Nethys?”
“Oh yeah, I’m an acolyte now. Shit actually happens when I pray. I’m especially good at identifying magical properties, and my profit margin is ten times that of a wizard’s.”
“Wait, wait.” Aesop looked pained. “You’re telling me that Nethys has miraculously imbued you with divine power and you’re prostituting yourself in the marketplace? How the f~*+ did this happen? I didn’t even know you were religious!”
“Hey, calm down – I was simply following your advice.”
“My advice?! When did I tell you to become a priest?”
“You didn’t – you simply told me that I should stop talking like my uncle. So I talked to my grandfather, he talked to a few people, bada bing bada boom: here I am. The church gets a cut, Rosa gets a cut, and everyone’s happy.”
Aesop rubbed his temples. “Yes, you must be making the magisters very happy. Do you even go to class?”
“Nah, class is overrated. I’m doing independent study instead.”
Chimpman
|
I'm really enjoying reading these stories, so I hope you keep posting. I take it Jerk got married and moved to Sandpoint? Is that were all of the PCs are at now?
| Alex Y |
Cool, I'm really happy you like reading. We try to play biweekly, and I try to update weekly because it takes me many posts to describe what happens each game session. Yes, all PCs have arrived at Sandpoint -- after this post, I'll start describing our actual experiences in the adventure (I'm a player).
***
“Ginger, look…” A buxom blonde whispered, motioning towards the street. Her redheaded companion paused in her ministrations and looked over the balcony. Surrounded by clamoring children, a bare-chested man with flowing silver hair and sparkling teeth was apparently handing out coins. “Doesn’t he remind you of…”
The goateed man in the tub between the two ladies cleared his throat. “Can we finish this while the water is still warm?”
The blonde blushed prettily. “I’m sorry, Master…er…”
“Sandoz. Emilio Sandoz.”
“What’s in a name? We’re just happy you’re here!” The redhead cooed. “And you’re so happy…”
Emilio leaned back with a smile, and then looked over the balcony as well. “Well look at that. It’s the goddamn aasimar.”
“Do you know him?” The blonde asked eagerly. “He looks just like a girl we once knew.”
“He gets that a lot, as pretty as he is.” Emilio smirked and stood up, eliciting dirty looks from a passing fishwife. “Are my new clothes here? Good. Burn the old ones, and keep the bed ready for me – I’m just going to greet an old friend.”
***
“Emilio! Hello!” Alton waved cheerfully. “It’s so good to see you! You’re so…clean!”
“Bathing helps.” Emilio looked Alton up and down. “Corrupting the young, or just waiting for custom?”
Alton laughed heartily. “You’re so funny! This is a toga, as worn by scholars of Irori!”
“Feh.” Emilio spat on a nearby child. “What brings you to Sandpoint?”
“The festival, of course!” Alton soothed the child with a shiny copper piece. “Baltin and I decided to stop here before we returned to Falcon’s Hollow – we were in Magnimar trying to buy the monastery of Torag!”
“You’re here with the dwarf? Where is he? And Why! Are! You! Shouting?!”
“Sorry,” Alton lowered his voice. “I guess I picked up a few of Baltin’s habits over the past six months.” The aasimar looked around, oblivious to the stares of passers-by. “He must be at the cathedral, sampling the local cuisine. Hey, we didn’t see you at Rosa and Jer’kles’ wedding.”
“My Rosa got married? I mean, Rosa married Jerk?” Emilio looked astonished. “When?”
“The first week of Sarenith? It was pretty small – Rosa told me that none of Jerk’s relatives could make it. I think that’s why they moved here from Falcon’s Hollow: to be closer to his family.” Alton suddenly started waving excitedly. “Hey, there’s Baltin! Yo Redhammer!”
| Alex Y |
Except for someone’s particularly loud and hacking cough during Sheriff Hemlock’s call for a moment of silence and someone else’s heckling of Cyrdak Drokkus when he winked at his paladin lover and denigrated the good Father Abstalar, the welcoming speeches for the Swallowtail Festival were generally well-received. The food was food, the weather was perfect, and everyone was happy. But then, over the buzz of conversation and the occasional peal of laughter, came the unmistakable shriek of Widow Jenkins followed by a roaring Redhammer!
“Did you hear that?” Jerk asked as he helped Rosa to her feet. “What’s going on?”
“Goblins!” A half-naked man shouted as he sprinted around the corner, toga hiked up to his knees. “Everyone: take cover!” As expected, townsfolk panicked and some began running down the street while others ran for the cathedral.
“F~#+!” Jerk began jumping up and down, waving and yelling at the wayward townsfolk. “Turn around, you dumb f&@*s! Alton! Turn those people around!” For a few seconds, nothing seemed to happen but then the townsfolk began running back up the street, followed closely by a lumbering dwarf with a massive tower shield on one arm and a bloody waraxe in the other fist.
“Hail Jer’kles! I love your festival!” Baltin slammed his axe against his shield in greeting before looking the larger man up and down. “Why aren’t you armed?”
“Because it’s a festival?” Jerk looked at the dwarf. “Why do you have scale mail on?”
“You mean, instead of my splint? Because it’s a festival! Look out – goblins!” Five goblins ambled into view, clutching dogslicers and looking very pleased. Zu feathered one with an arrow, and Aesop encouraged two to await the dawn, but the last two goblins immediately ran at an obviously pregnant Rosa.
“Alton says: down facing dog!” The aasimar swept the legs out from under one goblin with a graceful forward roll, but could not stop the second goblin from taking a flying leap towards its prey. Rosa screamed as Jerk shouldered her aside to face the goblin, but then the little knee biter toppled over with a smoking hole in its back. Ten paces away, hands flickering with green flame, stood Emilio.
“Holy shit.”
Emilio approached. “Ain’t nothing holy about this shit. How’s your wife?”
“Uh.” Jerk glanced downwards at an unconscious Rosa. “She’s doing great. Just resting. Taking deep breaths. Yeah. Doing great. Howyoudoin?”
“Swell. Alton tells me Rosa’s expecting.”
“Uh, yeah.” Jerk eyed the wrestling match between the aasimar and the goblin, but decided against joining it. “But if that baby comes out with silver hair, I’m going to have to kill him.”
Emilio walked over to the sleeping goblins and executed them with gouts of green flame. “Let me know. I’ll help.”
| Burrito Al Pastor |
So, between this and James Keegan's "Darkness on the Edge of Town" campaign, I can't help but wonder...
When did campaigns start being named after Bruce Springsteen songs? What's next, a Sharn campaign called "Backstreets"? A Xen'Drik game called "Jungleland"? A horror game called "Something in the Night"? "I'm On Fire", where all players are fire gensai?
(As a bonus, "Darkness on the Edge of Town" and "The Ties That Bind" are functionally sequential songs, since "Darkness" was the last track on that album and "Ties" was the first song on his next album, "The River." Damned if I can figure out a way you could continue the sequence with "Sherry Darling", though.)
| Turin the Mad |
So, between this and James Keegan's "Darkness on the Edge of Town" campaign, I can't help but wonder...
When did campaigns start being named after Bruce Springsteen songs? What's next, a Sharn campaign called "Backstreets"? A Xen'Drik game called "Jungleland"? A horror game called "Something in the Night"? "I'm On Fire", where all players are fire gensai?
(As a bonus, "Darkness on the Edge of Town" and "The Ties That Bind" are functionally sequential songs, since "Darkness" was the last track on that album and "Ties" was the first song on his next album, "The River." Damned if I can figure out a way you could continue the sequence with "Sherry Darling", though.)
Sherry Darling, an all-fey PC group takes on the Savage Tide ... and dies horribly being maimed by deathbugs, then made into 'pixie shots' until they run out of CON ability score points.
| Alex Y |
(I don't listen to Bruce Springsteen.)
***
When the Swallowtail Festival drew to a close, all would agree that it was the most exciting one ever. Though one man lost his life trying to extract a goblin from his son’s closet, the town was minimally damaged and almost a score of goblins were slain by Angelic Alton and the Red Hammers. Widow Jenkins was so impressed by the band that she baked nonstop. “This is for you and your wife,” she explained, thrusting a savory meat pie at Jerk one morning. “Your uncle and I may have our differences, but you’re a good boy. Give your newborn daughter a kiss from me; dogslicers, warchanters, horsechoppers – what a birth story! You must be so proud.”
As Jer’kles busied himself with domestic affairs, the temple of Irori partnered with the Sandpoint Theater to capitalize on a sudden interest in all things aasimar. Cyrdak Drokkus was disappointed when Alton refused to perform artistically nude, but was gratified when the latter agreed to wear a particularly dazzling toga…
***
“Excuse me, Father Aesop?”
“Yes?” Aesop turned, and looked upon a comely maiden who seemed to be flushed and out of breath.
“I am so sorry to be bothering you, but can you please come with me? I heard a sound, and went to get my parents, but they weren’t in bed, and then you happened to walk by…” The young woman’s eyes began to tear up. “What if the goblins came back?”
“Shh, shh,” Aesop soothed the maiden awkwardly. “Where do you live?”
“Just down the street – over the general store.”
“You’re…Ven Vinder’s daughter?”
“Yes, Shayliss. Have you heard of me?” The maiden smiled hopefully.
Aesop spoke carefully. “I have heard that Master Vinder is quite protective of his daughter. Perhaps we can enlist the support of my cousin Zu…”
“The Shoanti warrior? I just saw him! He was on a horse, with gallant Sir Aldern! They were riding away, though…”
Aesop thought quickly. “Baltin and Emilio should still be in bed. Can we swing by the Pixie?”
“There’s no time! What if the goblins are…torturing…my parents?” Shayliss looked on the verge of tears again. Aesop sighed inwardly, and then motioned for her to lead on.
***
“Down there!” Shayliss whispered, pointing at the door to the cellar. “I’m sure I heard one of those goblin rat dogs snarling.”
Aesop hefted a makeshift cudgel, and then turned to address Shayliss. “Just shut the door after me, but do not bar it, okay?” She nodded vigorously. Taking a deep breath, Aesop prayed for light to guide his way and then flung open the cellar door. Descending quickly, he looked one way, and then another, and then nearly jumped out of his skin when the door banged shut and a breath of warm air blew across the back of his neck. He turned, and found her face inches away from his, mouth slightly open as if in anticipation. “Shayliss,” Aesop said slowly, “What are you doing?”
“Praying to Desna, Father.”
“Shayliss, are there goblins in here?”
“I do not know, Father.”
“Shayliss, why are you undressing?”
Before Shayliss could answer, the cellar door suddenly opened, revealing Ven Vinder. The merchant’s eyes bulged as he registered the presence of his naked daughter and a club-wielding priest of Sarenrae. “What,” Ven sputtered, “is going on?!”
Aesop sighed outwardly. “Await the dawn.”
| Alex Y |
“Excuse me, Father Aesop?” A female voice whispered, the morning after the Shayliss incident.
Aesop paused in mid-prayer, and considered not responding, but then stood up and opened the door to his room. He looked upon an old woman who seemed to be flushed and out of breath. “Yes…?”
“I am so sorry to be bothering you, but can you please come with me? I heard a sound in milady’s room, but…”
Aesop held up a hand. “Please, I want no trouble with Ameiko. I respect her as a woman, as I do all women, and I find her very attractive, but…”
The old woman looked puzzled, and held up a scrap of paper. “Milady is missing, and I cannot read this note. I suspect foul play, and knocked on your door because you’re the only one awake at such an early hour. Why else would I be here?”
“No reason,” Aesop blustered, “no reason at all. Let me see that note. Hmm, I cannot read it either, but perhaps my cousin can. He is a…student…of magic and may be able to help. May I keep this?” Without waiting for an answer, Aesop excused himself and hurried away.
***
Aesop knocked softly at the door to Rosa and Jer’kles’. When no one answered, Aesop knocked a bit more insistently. “Jerk, are you awake?” Aesop was wondering whether to knock on the bedroom window when the door suddenly opened, revealing Jerk’s hulking form cradling a small bundle.
“Of course I’m awake,” growled Jerk menacingly. “She only sleeps when someone’s holding her. What the f$$% do you want?”
“Ameiko is missing, and I cannot read this note. I have already prepared myself for the day ahead – can you pray to Nethys for the power to comprehend languages?”
“How do you know I haven’t already filled my mind with the teachings of Nethys?”
“Have you already filled your mind with the teachings of Nethys?”
Jerk glared, and then thrust the sleeping baby at Aesop. “Give me fifteen minutes, or maybe twenty – I need to find my holy symbol.”
***
“Alright, here’s the situation: Ameiko Kaijitsu, the owner of this fine establishment, is missing. This note,” explained Jerk to the rest of the group, “is written in Minkai, and seems to be from her brother Tsuto. It hints that their father Lonjiku was somehow involved in the goblin attack last week.”
“Would he do such a thing?” Aesop asked. “Could he be the ‘longshanks’ who hired goblins to attack the town and defile the graveyard?”
“I don’t know.” Jerk admitted. “The goblin we captured didn’t say all that much before we had to kill him, but the only grave disturbed was that of Father Ezekien, who died in the fire that destroyed the old church. What would Lonjiku gain by setting fires or attacking Sandpoint?”
“Alton says: we should investigate the Glassworks.” The aasimar declared righteously. “Ameiko may be in danger!”
“Whoa there, Angelic Alt. Who died and made you Sheriff?”
Emilio smirked. “The Sheriff left for Magnimar last night. I was in the lounge when he came down the stairs with Lady Kay. We’re it, hoss.”
Zu agreed. “We cannot wait until the Sheriff returns. We should look around, discreetly, before the trail grows cold.”
Jerk sighed. “Redhammer?”
“Redhammer!”
| Alex Y |
Though Zu attempted to teach Alton how to scout like a Lyrune-Quah warrior, the latter jumped through an open window at the Glassworks as soon as he spotted a gang of goblins. The aasimar’s impetuous gallantry resulted in an assault on the building that was anything but discreet – Jerk had to smash open the front door, and then Baltin had to announce his presence. It was a wonder that no militiamen came running, especially after the goblins started screaming for their longshanks. The party paused when Tsuto suddenly appeared, but then retaliated with glee when Tsuto tried to kick Zu in the head. When it became apparent that open hand would lose to sword and axe, Tsuto retreated into the darkness of the storage room.
“Did you kill him?” Aesop asked, as Jerk smashed down the door to Ameiko’s makeshift cell.
“Nah,” Emilio answered as Baltin dragged Tsuto’s body into view. “He bled to death.”
Alton looked at Ameiko, and then at Jerk. “Search the rooms?” When Ameiko did not answer, Jerk nodded.
***
Jerk cleared his throat. “Do you need any help, you know, with anything?” In the light of day, it was obvious that Tsuto and his goblins had roasted various workers and murdered Lonjiku Kaijitsu by covering him with molten glass.
“No.” Ameiko shook her head. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Did your brother say why he thought your father was involved with the goblins?”
“No.”
“Did you kill your father?”
“No!” Ameiko looked horrified. “I could never do such a thing!”
“But your brother could, and he killed these people, too. Were they dead when you arrived last night?”
“I don’t…remember.”
“What were you talking about that got you locked into a room?”
“Why should I tell you?”
“I, and my friends here,” Jerk gestured to the others, “want to be your friend. And friends share.”
Ameiko sneered. “I don’t need your friendship. I can take care of myself.”
Jerk narrowed his eyes. “Your father is dead. Your brother is dead. You now own a quarter of this town. And you don’t want to be our friend?”
“It’s a good thing we didn’t find you dead at the hands of your brother and his goblins,” Emilio observed.
Ameiko pursed her lips. “What do you want?”
“A little bit of courtesy would be nice.” Jerk glanced at a pile of sacks by Emilio’s foot.
“Thank you very much for saving my life. Why don’t you take those sacks of gold and silver dust as a token of my appreciation?”
“That’s very generous of you! But seriously, what was your brother up to?”
“I don’t know.”
“So you know nothing about the goblin attacks that your brother so helpfully described in his journal?” Jerk looked sidelong at Ameiko as he pulled a slim folio from his belt. “He didn’t say anything about your father’s smuggling tunnel or his bat-shit crazy girlfriend?”
“Nothing.”
“So you have nothing to hide if I go to the Sheriff or the Mayor about this?”
“Be. My. Guest.”
| Alex Y |
“Herakleos Scarnetti,” greeted Mayor Deverin as she walked down High Street, “how can I help you?”
“Actually, Your Honor, I was thinking that maybe I can help you. You see, earlier this morning, my companions and I…”
“The Red Hammers, right?” The Mayor looked completely sincere.
“Uh, yeah. Anyway, we went down to the Glassworks because of this note…”
The Mayor examined Tsuto’s note carefully, and then handed it back. “What interesting handwriting. I’m afraid I cannot read it.”
“Oh, it’s in Minkai. Here, I’ve translated it for you, and I’ve done the same for the journal of Tsuto Kaijitsu.”
Mayor Deverin read the translations expressionlessly. “Master Scarnetti, what happened at the Glassworks?” Jerk quickly summarized. “I see. And how can you help me?”
“Well, seeing as how Ameiko disavows all knowledge of her father’s or brother’s actions, I thought you might give us permission to investigate the smuggling tunnels beneath the Glassworks, official-like.”
The Mayor eyed Jerk appraisingly. “Ordinarily, I would deny your request out of respect for Lonjiku’s privacy, but this is a bit out of the ordinary. Why don’t you go do whatever it is you Scarnettis do best and report back to me?”
“Of course. So you’ll update the Sheriff and the rest of the town council?”
“Something like that.”
***
“What do you mean you’re not chipping in?” Jerk demanded angrily. “If Baltin takes point, it’s in our best interest to put him in the heaviest armor we can afford, since he left his splint mail in Magnimar.”
Sandoz signaled for another drink. “I don’t care. It’s my share, and I’d rather spend it on ale and whores.”
Jerk sputtered. “But we’re going after the quasit and her freaks!”
“So? Do you even know what a quasit is?”
“Well…no.”
Sandoz pointed at the fairy hanging above the burgundy chaise longue. “It’s a demon: as big as that doll, though less frilly. Trust me – we’re in no danger.”
Jerk furrowed his brows. “How do you…”
“Know so much about demons? Do you really want to know?” Sandoz arched an eyebrow. “Besides, you don’t need my money – you have enough already.”
“That’s not the point!” Jerk insisted.
“I’m still not chipping in! Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to take a nap. We can kill freaks after lunch – assuming Baltin’s ready.”
| Alex Y |
Since I cannot edit my old posts, the player of Emilio Sandoz wanted me to note that the story should have been using the name Sandoz instead of Emilio once we moved beyond Falcon's Hollow.
***
“Everybody ready?” Jerk whispered. The others nodded, and Jerk began pushing against a massive set of stone double doors. The party had previously defeated a naked, cleft-faced freak hiding in the smuggling tunnels beneath the Glassworks, and was in the process of investigating an ancient complex presumably devoted to a very angry woman when the group found itself before a filthy shrine of Lamashtu. After a heated discussion between Alton and Jerk, the group voted to leave the shrine alone in exchange for knowing what’s behind the two doors. Luckily, the daylight emanating from Alton did not reveal an army of naked freaks. Instead, the light revealed a huge cathedral-like cavern and a tiny bat-winged humanoid.
“How dare you intrude upon my inner sanctum?!” The quasit shrieked, as she flew from a circular pool ringed with skulls up to a triangular pool roiling with glowing orange goo. “You shall pay with your lives,” she promised, and stabbed herself with a tiny (but vicious) knife.
“Kill her?” Zu asked, as the quasit began squeezing demonic ichor into the roiling pool. With an obscene squelch, the pool disgorged a naked, cleft-faced freak.
“You have to ask?” Alton shouted as he sprinted for a set of stairs leading up to the triangular pool. “For Sandpoint! For Redhammer!”
“Redhammer!” Cheered Baltin’s shrunken head as the dwarf charged up the other set of stairs, towards the approaching freak.
“Yeah, yeah,” muttered Jerk as he stepped forward and hurled a javelin at the quasit. “F!%&!” He cursed as the demon easily avoided the slow-moving projectile. “F$&&!” Jerk cursed again when the quasit dodged a crossbow bolt from Aesop and an arrow from Zu.
“Let me show you boys how it’s done,” boasted Sandoz. “Just follow my lead. One…two…fire!” And then, as Jerk hurled another javelin and Aesop fired another crossbow bolt, Sandoz’s eldritch blast missed the quasit by a good two feet.
“Performance anxiety: it happens to the best of us.” Zu observed as his arrow finally found its mark and spun the demon around with its impact. The quasit screeched, and then vanished.
“Was that it? Did we defeat her?” Alton asked, as he kicked the freak towards Baltin, who decapitated it with a swing from his waraxe.
“Zu! Watch out!” Sandoz cried as he hurled a fistful of green flame at the empty space above the circular pool. The Shoanti warrior tensed, and dodged a strike from a monstrous scorpion that suddenly bamfed into existence. “She’s still here! She’s just invisible!”
The party worked to dispatch the fiendish scorpion. The air grew heavy with the scent of brimstone as a fiendish wolf materialized, followed by a fiendish hawk. Frustrated by Sandoz’s continued harassment, the quasit finally revealed herself when she dove at the Varisian warlock with claws pulsing with necromantic energy…only to be grabbed by Jerk.
“Motherf&!+er!” The large man released the quasit involuntarily as open sores erupted along his arm. The quasit cackled insanely, and immediately flew up…only to be split in twain by Baltin, who had crept up the stairs and taken a flying leap off the top.
| Alex Y |
Sheriff Hemlock looked at Jerk dubiously. “That was it? You found the lair of the evil demoness and cleansed it in ten minutes?”
“Nah, we spent all afternoon there; the quasit was just one of the first things we killed. After Baltin split her in two, we dripped her blood in the orange goo until the freaks stopped coming and the goo stopped glowing. Hey Zu, how many freaks did we kill? You still got those heads?”
Zu nodded, and handed the Sheriff four leather sacks. “In all, we destroyed nine of those monsters. We also killed a misshapen goblin, eleven ancient zombies, and a flying skull.”
The Sheriff inspected the contents of the sacks, and then offered to show them to Mayor Deverin, who politely declined. “What now?” The Mayor asked.
Jerk shrugged. “Maybe you should brick up that tunnel, from both ends. That place was big, and looked more like a prison than a simple shrine to Lamashtu. Though the stairs we found were blocked by rubble, there may be secret passageways in and out of that complex.”
The Mayor nodded. “That’s good advice. What about the shrine?”
“Father Aesop here wants to consecrate it, but I don’t want to stick my beak in. I wrote my dean for advice.”
“You told your church about this?” The Mayor looked concerned.
“Well, yeah. I put a cover sheet on my report and everything. I even included copies of the Thassilonian scrolls that we recovered.”
Sheriff Hemlock narrowed his eyes. “Who else have you told?”
“Just Rosa; oh, and Emily, but she just gurgled. Why do you care?”
Sandoz suddenly interrupted. “You named your daughter Emily?”
“Yeah, my wife did – she likes Varisian names. Hey, you should come for dinner – eating at the Pussy every night can’t be healthy for you.”
The Sheriff cleared his throat. “I care because I don’t want townsfolk to get hysterical. People can laugh at goblins, but demons are another story.”
“She was, like, this big!” Jerk held his hands about a foot apart. “Zu’s been wearing her tiara as a cock ring, for crying out loud!” The Shoanti warrior nodded matter-of-factly.
“So: I hear the elf ranger arrived this morning.” Alton spoke after a moment of awkward silence.
As if on cue, someone knocked on the door and was welcomed in by the Sheriff. “Shalelu Andosana, may I present to you the Red Hammers.” Baltin raised a fist, but said nothing.
Jerk walked forward and shook the ranger’s hand. “Herakleos Scarnetti. Howyoudoin? That’s Baltin Redhammer – he’s hoarse from partying too hard last night. This is Father Aesopos of Sarenrae, my cousin on my father’s side, and that’s Zuzeca Iwaha Sapa, Father Aesop’s cousin on his mother’s side. This is Emilio Sandoz, a friend from Falcon’s Hollow. And that’s Alton.”
“So you’re Alton?” Shalelu glided past Jerk and looked the aasimar up and down. “I’ll have to visit Sandpoint more often, if you’re planning to stick around.”
“Nah, he and Baltin are leaving, as soon as we deal with these goblins.” Jerk said curtly. “So what do you know?”
The elf looked at the much larger human with amusement, and quickly summarized the goblin situation around Sandpoint. “Even with Belor’s new recruits, I’m not sure that we can defeat two hundred goblins. If Tsuto’s notes can be trusted, we may find the source of our problems at Thistletop.”
“So you’ll take us there?” Alton asked eagerly.
“I know a secret way in. But I can only show you the door; you’re the ones that have to walk through it.”
| Alex Y |
The party watched intently as Zu examined the large hole in the ground. “I do not think this is a way into Thistletop.” The Shoanti warrior concluded. “The hole is too deep, and there does not appear to be any hidden stairs or handholds. See these tracks near the edge? These scratches and nail fragments suggest that somebody was being dragged in.” Eyes widened as visions of tentacles and dungeon-dwelling octopi danced in everyone’s head.
“Let’s go this way instead,” Jerk suggested, pointing down a cramped tunnel. In response, the brambles came alive. “Whoa, that’s not natural.”
“Home perfectly natural, longshanks!” A voice growled from around them. “Now die!” And then, a red-and-black-furred mountain lion jumped on Baltin’s back.
“Redhammer!” Cheered Baltin’s shrunken head as the dwarf shrugged off the mountain lion and punched it between the eyes.
“Redhammer!” Alton kicked the mountain lion in the ribs. “Learn some manners, druid!”
A ball of flame suddenly erupted from the far wall, narrowly missing Zu. “Beware!” The Shoanti warrior cried as a goblin stepped out of the brambles with another ball of fire in his hands. “That fire pelt is not the druid!”
Zu loosed an arrow at the goblin druid as Jerk hefted his javelin and Aesop aimed his crossbow. Before the cousins could attack, however, Sandoz suddenly pointed towards a second tunnel. “I think I hear more goblins approaching!”
As if on cue, a tremulous voice called out in Goblin: “You okay? We heard yelling…is it the monster?”
“Yes!” Jerk called back in Goblin as he planted his javelin and drew his longsword. “We be killing the monster! Come help! For Thistletop!”
“We come! For Thistletop!” A dozen goblin warriors ran happily into the clearing before they spotted Sandoz waiting menacingly in front of the writhing brambles. “It’s a trap! Birdcrunchers!”
“Yeah, yeah,” muttered Jerk as he stepped out from behind some vines and beheaded the closest goblin. Instead of scattering at the sight of him, the rest of the goblins practically jockeyed for the chance to kill the much larger man.
“Await the dawn,” whispered Aesop as his magic forced three goblins into slumber. “Jerk, are you going to be okay?”
“They’re just goblins,” grunted Jerk as the little monsters slashed at him and tried to grab his sword arm. “How tough can they be?”
“F&+!!” The Varisian warlock cursed as his eldritch blast missed a goblin and almost hit Jerk. “Jerk, get out of there! You’re getting buried!”
Jerk screamed in frustration as his thrusts and cuts consistently failed to find their mark. Finally, he hurled himself backwards and threw his sword into the frenzy. “Burn them! Burn them!”
Obligingly, Aesop stepped forward and roasted the goblins with a cone of searing fire. “We are but moths to Her flame,” the priest of Sarenrae intoned. Sandoz punctuated the prayer with a blast of green flame that silenced a moaning goblin.
“You – you will surrender. What is your name?” Jerk demanded as he unslung a cruel-looking horsechopper and leveled it at the last goblin. Alton, Baltin, and Zu, having finally defeated the flame-producing druid and his fire pelt companion, approached cautiously.
“I am Gahmad ibn Gofadlân ibn al-Gabbâs ibn Goraðîd ibn Goammâd,” the thirteenth goblin answered hopefully. “Nice horsechopper.”
| Alex Y |
“If you don’t stop squirming, I’m not going to heal you.” Aesop warned Jerk, who settled down grumpily. “Now take a deep breath and hold it – Sarenrae heals thee!”
Jerk felt along his back in wonder. “Huh – the pain is gone! Thanks Father!”
“You are the worst patient ever. Why do I even bother, when you can heal yourself?”
“Because you’re better? Hey!” Jerk suddenly sprang to his feet. “Alton! What the f+*& do you think you’re doing?”
The aasimar looked at Jerk curiously from beside the body of the fire pelt. “Nothing?”
“Don’t lie to me! I saw you snap the neck of that helpless animal!”
“Jerk, calm down. Alton’s just putting it out of its misery.” Aesop laid a hand on his cousin’s arm.
“Yeah,” Alton concurred, “I was just administering what Sandoz calls the coup de grâce.”
Jerk shook with fury. “I don’t speak Varisian, smartass. If I ever see you doing that again…”
Aesop interrupted. “Just relax, Jerk – it’s the healing talking. Some patients taking Sarenrae may experience extreme emotions, alternating between a desire for mercy and a thirst for vengeance, but these mood swings will soon pass. Breathe in…breathe out…good.”
After a few minutes, Jerk apologized. “I’m sorry Alton. I don’t know what came over me.”
“That’s all right. Look, the brambles have stopped moving! Let’s attack Thistletop!”
***
“Alright, here’s the plan: Alton, Zu, and I will sneak up, climb that guard tower, and lower a rope for the rest of you.”
Ibn raised a hand. “What if something goes wrong?”
Sandoz dismissed the Birdcruncher’s concern. “All the guards are playing with that seagull. Nothing is going to go wrong. Let’s go!”
The rest of the party watched silently as the three crossed swiftly to the base of the guard tower, but all gawked in surprise when Sandoz climbed up the side as casually and easily as a spider.
“Did you see that?” Jerk turned to Aesop incredulously, shortly before a high-pitched goblin voice began shrieking in fear at Sandoz’s intrusion. “F@~#! We’ve been made. Hit the doors!”
As Baltin and Jerk charged the main entrance, Aesop turned to address Ibn: “If you’ve been thinking about escaping, now’s your chance.” Surprised, the Birdcruncher stared at the priest of Sarenrae. “I’m serious. Go now!” Without a word, the goblin fled.
***
Though Sandoz blasted the first card-playing goblin in the guard tower easily enough, the second dove through the trap door and ran down the stairs, screaming all the while. Alton, first to climb up Sandoz’s rope, began to chase after the goblin. Zu, second to climb up the rope, began to chase after Alton. Sandoz tied off his rope and yelled at the others to follow before swinging through the trap door himself. Unfortunately, all he saw was a bloody melee at the entrance of what appeared to be a throne room, with Alton in the middle of everything.
Jerk bounced off the front door just as four dogriders skidded around the far guard tower, their mounts yipping in excitement. Aesop and Baltin took up flanking positions, and the three began to lay about them with purpose. Unfortunately, Jerk’s thrusts and cuts again failed to find their mark – in fact, his poor performance seemed to affect Aesop and Baltin as well. Harassed by dogs and surrounded by goblin reinforcements who sallied forth from the main entrance, Jerk finally threw away his longsword – impaling a very surprised-looking goblin in the process.
Ripnugget was having a very good day. As his warriors bloodied the second intruder, he and his gecko rode rings around the unarmed and unarmored intruder. In fact, his last swing almost disemboweled his opponent. When the intruders called for a retreat, he called for a charge and led the way. “For Thistletop! For Ripnugget! Die, longshanks!”
Jerk felt much better without his longsword, and wondered briefly if there really was a curse on the sword of the goblin hero Koruvus. Finally, he decided that Shalelu was a lying b%*#* and began cleaving his way to the front door with his horsechopper. “Father, come with me – I hear Zu yelling! Baltin, hold this door!”
Ripnugget dropped Alton with a savage chop to the neck before urging his gecko up the walls. Three goblin warriors swarmed Zu, and overwhelmed him with a flurry of slices and chops. Sandoz, perched near the ceiling, was flinging eldritch blasts at Ripnugget when Jerk kicked open the door to the guard tower. Quickly assessing the situation, Jerk did what he does best: he flung himself out of the way and screamed for Aesop to burn everything.
| Alex Y |
This is just a quick post that glosses over the loot we found in the treasure chest (whose trap Alton sprung, naturally). Based on the contents, Aesop's player was convinced that the goblins had captured not only Shadowmist but also his owner, a Sarenrae priestess...
***
“How do you feel?” Jerk asked gently.
Zu turned his head and spat out a mouthful of blood. “I’ve had better days. Did you heal me?”
Jerk puffed out his chest proudly. “I sure did. I’ve just infused you with 100% unrefined Grade A positive energy, from the clean, pure healing reserve of Nethys. No need to thank me – I am but a simple student of the magical arts.” Jerk then swaggered over to the bloody mess that was Alton, to repeat his resuscitation.
“Healing reserve of Nethys?” Zu whispered, when Aesop drew near.
Aesop shrugged. “I hear it’s the latest innovation from the research laboratories of Nethys. I don’t think it’s as effective as the more traditional prayers from Sarenrae, but it keeps warriors going with no side-effects and a minimal expenditure of effort from the healer.”
Zu sat up with a wince. “I still hurt.”
Aesop nodded sympathetically, and lowered his voice: “Minimal effort, minimal returns. I’ll talk to Jerk about his half-assed ways later. Want me to heal you again?” Zu nodded.
At the other side of the guard tower, Alton stood shakily and looked around at the charred and blood-streaked walls. “What happened? Where are the others?”
“They died.” Before Alton could burst into tears, Jerk quickly clarified: “The goblins, I mean. Sandoz and Baltin are tossing their bodies into the sea as we speak. We’ll hole up for the night, and then we’ll search the rest of Thistletop tomorrow.”
***
“I can’t believe you cut the rope!” Jerk complained to Sandoz, as the party watched Zu feed a newly-rescued warhorse the next morning.
The Varisian warlock shrugged. “It protects us from the mainland.”
“Yeah, but now we’re trapped on this stupid island. What if something kills us? We’d be f$%~ed!”
Sandoz tried not to laugh. “I doubt we’d care if something f$~$s us after it kills us. Let’s go – it looks like Zu is finally ready to help Aesop rescue more prisoners.”
| Yasha0006 |
This is a particularly entertaining Journal Alex Y. Keep it up.
Which is it that you're playing PCwise?
| Alex Y |
Thanks! I'm glad you're enjoying this, because we're having a blast playing through these Paizo adventures.
As my DM says, I'm playing "the weirdo": Jer'kles (Herakles) Scarnetti. I've decided to model Jerk after Tony Soprano, and am having fun with my character's many contradictions.
***
“You really don’t want to know the answer to that question,” Zu told Jerk, as the latter pitched four more goblin bodies over the cliff.
“I guess not. It’s just…he’s so big, and those women were so small…” Jerk snickered as Zu busied himself with the remains of the bugbear hero Bruthazmus. “Whoa, what are you doing?”
Zu cleaned and sheathed his dagger. “Shayliss doesn’t seem to like getting heads, so I’m going to try and save some face.”
Jerk looked at Zu with horror. “Have you been giving her all those heads? I told you to give her flowers!”
“But it’s easy to kill a flower!”
“Trust me: you can’t save face this way. Repeat after me: less stalking, more talking.”
“What about Shalelu? I was going to give her this necklace, and these arrows!”
***
Zu saluted the dark-skinned wizardess as the party barged into what appeared to be a large study. “Greetings. I am Zuzeca Iwaha Sapa.”
“What are you doing?” Jerk hissed.
“I am talking to her,” Zu replied.
Surprised by five heavily-armed warriors (and Alton), the wizardess decided to parley. “Er, hello. I am Lyrie Akenja. Who are you and what are you doing here?”
“We’ll ask the questions!” Jerk looked at the table littered with scrolls, books, and ancient Thassilonian artifacts. “Who are you and what are you doing here?”
Lyrie stared at Jerk and repeated herself, slowly. “Um, I am Lyrie Akenja…”
“Yeah, I got that.”
“…And I have been hired to lead an archeological expedition…”
“By the demoness Nualia?”
Lyrie paused. “Are you going to kill me if I say yes?”
“No, no,” Aesop soothed without lowering his crossbow. “We do not rush to judge others. If you help us, I’m sure your cooperation will count for much.”
Jerk glared at Aesop, and then turned his attention back to Lyrie. “That’s right. Tell us what you know and the good Father here will put in a good word.”
Lyrie sighed. “So what do you want to know?”
“Where is the priestess of Sarenrae?” Aesop asked.
“Who else is in your expedition?” Jerk demanded.
“Be there more goblins?” Baltin wondered.
“Alton says: where is Nualia now?”
Zu opened his mouth, but then closed it. Sandoz yawned. Jerk tapped his foot impatiently.
Taking a deep breath, Lyrie answered: “Nualia is just through that door and down those steps. Uh…I’ve been working with a bugbear…”
“Bruthazmus?” Jerk asked. Lyrie nodded, eyes wide. Jerk smirked, and motioned for the wizardess to continue.
“…and a half-elf…”
“Tsuto?” Jerk asked. Lyrie nodded, eyes narrowed. Sensing a change in her mood, Jerk smiled broadly. “We ran into him, just a few days ago. He’s staying with his sister, in Sandpoint.”
Lyrie looked confused. “But…he said…”
Jerk draped a beefy arm around the much smaller woman. “Men. What are you gonna do? Anyone else?”
Lyrie squirmed out from beneath Jerk’s arm. “Just Orik, a sellsword.”
“Great! Take us to him. We want to talk to him, too.”
As the party followed Lyrie out of the room, Aesop suddenly remembered his question. “Where’s my Sarenrae priestess?!”
| Yasha0006 |
Zu is certainly turning out to be quite the character as well.
If Jerk weren't a priest I'd accuse him of having dangerously low wisdom, but since he is I have to assume its low Int instead. Just put you arm around the dangerous woman, thats a good plan. *dripping sarcasm*
You do a very good portrayal of him. Thus far I haven't even hit with a favorite character, they all have their own personality.
Oh, and tell Aesop's player that I love his Sleep spell incantation...
"Await the dawn..."
This party has all the makings of greatness as I see it. Provided they don't kill each other over some trifling matter first.
It'll be interesting to see their interactions once the next adventure begins. Its a doozy.
| Alex Y |
Jerk is neither an idiot nor a fool. He is, however, an a*$!@#~ and was gambling that Lyrie would rather suffer indignities than attack with the odds against her.
I am very much looking forward to the next adventure -- my DM had hoped to start it before Halloween, but we play on Thursdays.
***
“What’s down there?” Jerk pointed, as the group followed Lyrie past a shrine of Lamashtu.
“Um, that’s the lair of a tentamort.” When no one seemed to recognize the name, Lyrie elaborated: “It’s a most fascinating creature – it looks like a squid but lives on land, and uses its tentacles to capture prey. It liquefies internal organs before feeding.”
“Should we kill it?” Alton wondered. Before Jerk could retort, Aesop gently took Alton aside and explained why internal organs are important and why the party will be leaving the tentamort alone.
When the party returned to the hall where Bruthazmus and his goblin women made their last stand, Jerk pointed towards a few more doors. “Er, I think that’s the jail,” Lyrie replied, “and that’s the nursery. The jail is empty, but the goblin nursery is not.” Aesop looked meaningfully at Jerk. Jerk looked at Sandoz. Sandoz shrugged, and sauntered into the goblin nursery. After a minute, Sandoz returned and blew lightly across both index fingers. “What is it that you do, exactly?” Lyrie asked Sandoz excitedly. Sandoz merely smiled, and motioned for her to lead the way to Orik.
A ruggedly handsome man opened his bedroom door with a cheerful greeting that died at the sight of Lyrie with five armed men (and Alton). “Orik Vancaskerkin?” Jerk asked. Orik nodded cautiously. “We’re here to make you an offer.”
***
“Do you trust them?” Aesop asked, as the party walked past Lyrie’s worktable and down the stairs.
Jerk shrugged. “Does it matter? There’s no way off this island, and there’s no help coming. If we kill Nualia, they agree to work for us. If she kills us, they tell her that we walked right past their rooms.”
“Think she’ll believe them?”
“As Sandoz says, I doubt we’d care. Besides, these rooms seem to be magically sound-proof.”
Zu suddenly stopped the party. “Trap,” the Shoanti scout pronounced. There, between two glaive-wielding statues, the floor looked unusually clean and free of debris. After careful study, Zu suggested that everyone hop over.
Baltin Redhammer may be the tallest dwarf anyone has ever seen, but he was still almost two feet shorter than Jerk, Aesop, Alton, or Zu. Clad in banded mail and carrying a tower shield, he was as quiet as a drunken Scarnetti and half as nimble. Thus, it surprised no one when he failed to jump five feet. As portcullises fell and glaives slashed through the air, the party hooted and hollered at the sight of Baltin sliding across the floor atop his shield.
What was surprising, however, was the fact that Aesop could not jump five feet. As the rest of the party dealt with the sudden appearance of Nualia, Jerk held onto Aesop and sustained him with healing energy. “I thought…you said…these rooms were sound-proof.” Aesop gasped, as the statues began slicing at his legs.
“Maybe we shouldn’t have been yelling right outside of her door.” Jerk replied, as the statues began dicing up Aesop’s backpack. “Howyoudoin?” Aesop coughed wetly as his throat was ripped open. “Never mind. Hang on – here comes the drop!”
The two joined the rest of the party in time to see Alton punch through Nualia’s bared midriff. “She didn’t want to talk,” Zu explained.
| Yasha0006 |
Nice! Way to go Alton...and way to go Aesop. Bumbling characters add a wonderful sense of whimsical reality to games that I love so much.
^_^
| Alex Y |
We loved that trap. We didn't like the crypt so much. Malfeshnekor was tough, too. :)
***
“Wow. You guys look like shit. What happened down there?” Orik hurried to help as the party staggered through the door.
“F*$!ing shadows,” Jerk explained as he sank down wearily against a wall. “We found a crypt, with alcoves neatly placed around the room except for one wall. As soon as we opened the secret door, they f+!+ing jumped us.”
“What about Nualia? Did you get her?”
“We got her.” Zu waved a severed demon arm, complete with red talons, as he helped Baltin take off his armor. “And her little dog, too.”
Orik breathed a sigh of relief. “I guess that means I work for you now.”
“Yeah.” Jerk began to shout down the hall. “Hey! Lyrie! We’re back! You mind if I share your bed?”
“She left.”
“What? How? There’s no way off this island!”
“She said something about feather fall.”
“No shit?” Jerk looked impressed. “It takes balls to jump into bunyip-infested waters. She’s more of a man than I am.”
***
The night passed uneventfully. A tattered silk gown, bloody and torn, washed up on the shore along with a bedraggled cat. No one noticed.
***
Orik knocked politely on Zu’s door before entering. “I brought you some hermit crab stew for lunch. How’s the bite?”
The Shoanti brave grunted in appreciation. “It tingles.” When nothing more appeared to be forthcoming, Orik walked back to the makeshift kitchen.
“You know,” Orik remarked to Sandoz, “those three are nothing alike.”
“Yeah, it’s hard to believe they’re related.”
“They’re related?” Orik looked confused.
“Sure. I think they’re all cousins.”
“How does that work? I mean, is Zu half-dwarven?”
“What?” Sandoz stopped stirring the stew pot. “Who are you talking about?”
“Zu, Jerk, and Baltin: the three that are recovering from their wounds. Between Baltin’s ‘Did ye see what he did to me shield’ and Jerk’s ‘I’ll never have children again’, Zu’s practically mute.”
“Ah. Sorry, I thought you were talking about Zu, Jerk, and Aesop: Aesop’s charming, but rarely talks; Jerk’s the opposite of charming, but talks all the time.” Sandoz sipped the stew, and added more salt. “And Zu’s neither charming nor talkative.”
“Huh. So…are you going back down there?”
“Tomorrow morning, as soon as these damn priests are done with their prayers and devotions.”
“But it almost killed three of you. Why not leave it alone?”
“Because it’s an evil soul-sucking fiend.”
“So…you’re going to kill it because it’s the right thing to do? To help others?”
“Not really. But it’s not every day that I can say for certain that I’m sending a soul to Hell.”
| Alex Y |
Sandoz's player is awesome. He and Zu's player come up with great quotes.
We wrapped up Burnt Offerings with zero fatalities, and just started The Skinsaw Murders.
***
It was in fact Sandoz who killed the barghest Malfeshnekor, though the others certainly helped.
Few knew exactly what happened at Thistletop, but all knew that Angelic Alton became fabulously wealthy after selling a gigantic golden helmet to the Sandpoint Theater.
Weeks pass.
***
Brog sniffed at the candle dubiously. “Is it me,” asked the elderly merchant, “or does this stink like wet dog?”
“Really?” Apparently resistant to fire, Jerk snorted the lit end vigorously to the amusement of passing shoppers. “Huh. I never noticed. So…I guess you’re not interested?”
“I didn’t say that – I’ve just never encountered Thassilonian eternal candles in this scent before. Where did you get these?”
“I’m afraid I cannot tell you.” Jerk smiled apologetically. “The Sheriff would have my head.”
Brog studied Jerk carefully, but then decided to take the large Chelaxian at his word. “Who am I to doubt a priest of Nethys? I’ll take the lot.”
“Excellent!” Jerk beamed widely, and returned the candle to its carrying case before handing the entire crate to the merchant’s stone golem assistant. “Master Brogdabarius, can I interest you in this ancient Thassilonian throwing dagger? It expands to fit your palm, and returns unerringly after being thrown.”
The merchant took the blade from its display case and sniffed at it cautiously. When no foul odor was detected, Brog threw the dagger at the ground and grunted when it flew back to his hand seconds later. “Let’s talk about this over dinner. I may know a few potential buyers, especially if this is a genuine Thassilonian artifact.”
***
Rosa glared at Jerk. “Would it have killed you to let me know that you weren’t coming home for dinner? I waited for you. We waited for you.”
Jerk sighed, and tried to kiss his wife. When she turned away, he sighed again. “I’m sorry, but I was working. Brog came to market late, so I had to take him and the guys out to dinner. We then had to go to the armory to work on something for Baltin. By the time we finished, Brog wanted to go to the Pussy. Can you believe it? A man his age!”
Rosa whirled around in anger. “Did you go to the Pussy?”
“No way. I know how you feel.” Jerk tried to look sincere. “I would never cheat on you.”
Rosa rolled her eyes. “You blink when you say things you don’t mean. Come to bed – you’re coming to Sunday services with me tomorrow morning.”
“Even the Sarenrae service?!”
“Especially the Sarenrae service.”
***
Jerk was surprised to see Sheriff Hemlock on his doorstep the next day. “Good morning Sheriff. Can I help you with something?”
The Sheriff nodded. “I’d like your help with a situation at the Lumber Mill.”
“Sure.” Jerk looked at the Sheriff. “What, you mean right now? We just got back from services, and Rosa’s preparing lunch.”
“I’m afraid this can’t wait – Katrine Vinder and Banny Harker have been murdered.” The Sheriff held out a bloodstained note. “And Alton seems to be involved.”
| Sandoz |
Sandoz's player is awesome. He and Zu's player come up with great quotes.
Thank you Alex. That is high praise coming from you. =)
| Alex Y |
Just giving credit where it's due.
And Yasha, I really appreciate your comments. You are the best story hour supporter ever!
***
“You murderer!” Ven Vinder screamed as guards wrestled him to the ground. “My daughter would still be alive if it weren’t for you! Banny…the goblins…the severed heads on our porch – things were fine until you showed up! It’s all because of you! One day, Alton: you and me. One day…”
Jerk grabbed Alton by the arm and hustled him past a gawking child. “You just had to ask him about your medallion, didn’t you?”
“I was just trying to gauge his reaction. You know: in case he’s the murderer.” Alton explained.
“Next time, stick to the plan. We were there to comfort Ven, so that we could search Katrine’s room. Asking him if he carved a seven-pointed star into Banny’s chest was totally unnecessary.” Jerk opened the door to the Lumber Mill, and greeted the others. “We found nothing unusual in her room. What’s new?”
“We think they were attacked by some sort of undead. Zu found muddy footprints upstairs, and tracked the monster to the marsh on the other side of the river.” Aesop held up an axe. “I think Katrine tried to defend herself with this – the stench of corruption still lingers on this blade, and Banny was definitely clawed to death by something unclean.”
“You mean, like a ghoul? Because a bunch of ghouls is called a pack, and the author of the note seems to want Alton to be leader of The Pack.” Jerk turned to Sandoz. “What do you know about angels? Can they be turned into ghouls?”
“It’s said that an angel tainted by death becomes a deathlord who can kill any creature with but a single glance.”
Jerk stared at the Varisian warlock. “That’s bad.”
“Except cats,” Sandoz added, “because cats are the eyes and ears of the Dark Lord himself.”
“Thanks Sandoz.” Jerk paused to gather his thoughts. “What did the sage say about the seven-pointed star?”
“Wasp leg.”
“What?”
“The star symbolizes the seven virtues of rule, the seven schools of Thassilonian magic, and the seven deadly sins: wrath, avarice, sloth, pride, lust, envy, and gluttony. Wasp leg.”
“Hmm.” Jerk opened the door and addressed the nearest guard. “Orik! Howyoudoin? Listen, we need to talk to the Sheriff. Can you get him please? Thanks.”
The Sheriff walked in a while later. “Let’s make this quick. My men threw Ven back in jail, but they dragged him past half the town. People are starting to talk.”
Jerk took a deep breath. “I’d like you to put the entire Vinder family under guard, for their own protection.”
“Why?”
“I think your killer’s a necromancer who’s using undead do his dirty work. He seems to be ritually sacrificing sinners. He may be studying Thassilonian magic.”
The Sheriff considered Jerk’s statements. “What do you mean by sinners?”
“Sinners like Banny. According to Ibor, Banny had been embezzling from my uncle for years, but his courtship of Katrine was half-hearted and he loathed spending money on her.”
“Banny was guilty of the sin of avarice.” Sandoz explained.
Understanding dawned on Aesop. “And Ven may be guilty of wrath! And Shaylis…ooh.”
Jerk nodded. “We just want to keep them safe, while we interview the last person to see Mortwell, Hask, and Tabe alive. Maybe Grayst can shed more light on their sins.”
“Avarice isn’t enough?” The Sheriff asked dryly. “I’ll write you a letter of introduction – Doctor Habe can get a bit touchy about his patients.”
| Alex Y |
Gil, the beefier of the two orderlies at the Saintly Haven of Respite, opened the front door to the sight of five unarmored men and a dwarf in full battle dress. “Can I help you?” Gil asked suspiciously.
“Yeah, we’re here to see Grayst Sevilla.” A large man with very little neck replied. “You know: the crazy motherf$#$er that the Sheriff dropped off on Fireday.” Gil shook his head. The large man sighed. “Just get the Doctor. We have a letter for him, and we’re here on official business.”
With a grunt, Gil motioned for everyone to enter. “I will get the Doctor. Please wait here.”
Some minutes later, an older man bustled in. “Hallo, hallo – I am Doctor Erin Habe. Gil tells me that you’re here to see the patient Grayst Sevilla?”
A blond man, as tall as the large man with very little neck, nodded. “I am Aesop of Sarenrae, and these are my friends. We actually need to speak to Grayst, if that’s possible.”
Doctor Habe licked his lips nervously. “Maybe, maybe – he has a fever, you see, and may still be asleep. But we shall see, we shall see. Please follow me.” Doctor Habe lit a lantern and led Aesop and the others to a room on the third floor. The Shoanti brave peeked inside and sniffed the air meaningfully.
Aesop cleared his throat. “Doctor Habe, may I examine your patient? I am also trained in the healing arts.”
Doctor Habe shrugged. “If you wish, if you wish – though I fail to see how you can diagnose anything when the patient is asleep.” Aesop merely smiled, and waited for Doctor Habe to unlock the door.
“Eyes fully dilated, skin clammy and cool to the touch,” Aesop muttered, as he examined the man carefully. “Hmm. Alton, can you please call forth some daylight? I need to check his teeth again.” Alton nodded, and began glowing. His eyes became like molten gold, his hair shone like burnished silver, and his skin seemed almost incandescent. The party members knew to avert eyes but Doctor Habe, not being a patron of the Sandpoint Theater, was practically blinded by the brilliance of Angelic Alton.
“I’m sorry, Doctor Habe,” Alton apologized, “I probably should have warned you.”
Tears streamed down the older man’s face as he blinked furiously. “Yes, yes – that would have been a good idea. What do you think, Aesop of Sarenrae? Delirium or dementia?”
Grayst suddenly sat up and stared straight at Alton. “Ghoul fever.” Aesop pronounced grimly, and reached for his holy symbol.
| Yasha0006 |
“It’s said that an angel tainted by death becomes a deathlord who can kill any creature with but a single glance.”Jerk stared at the Varisian warlock. “That’s bad.”
“Except cats,” Sandoz added, “because cats are the eyes and ears of the Dark Lord himself.”
“Thanks Sandoz.” Jerk paused to gather his thoughts. “What did the sage say about the seven-pointed star?”
“Wasp leg.”
It would almost have been better if Sandoz had stopped talking right here...instead of explaining more. Again...Sandoz is awesome. Seriously, everyone in this group is great. This journal is giving me a great viewing of how RotRL should be run when I finally get around to it. Thanks to all the players and whoever your awesome DM is.
| Alex Y |
Thank you very much for the praise. Our DM (blackotter) is active on the Paizo boards, but I don't know if he's reading this particular thread.
I don't think we (the players) are all that exceptional, though our characters are pretty high-functioning with respect to each other and to the NPCs. Except for Alton, of course, but outsiders tend to be a little bit crazy. ;)
***
By the time the party returned to Sandpoint, the sun was already setting. As they rode through town, Alton noticed more watchmen than usual patrolling the streets. Sheriff Hemlock joined them en route to the Cathedral: “Welcome back. Something happened while you were gone.”
Aesop lowered his voice. “An outbreak of ghoul fever?”
“No…but tell me more.” The Sheriff listened intently as Aesop reviewed the case of Grayst Sevilla, and then asked: “How can we fight this?”
Aesop thought for a moment. “Public awareness is probably our best defense. Until we can find the necromancer and destroy him and his creations, citizens should be vigilant against attack and those infected should immediately seek treatment.”
“Assuming the infected survive the attack, correct?”
Aesop nodded grimly.
***
The party watched as an acolyte of Erastil escorted a blubbering farmer from Father Abstalar’s office. Jerk spoke first: “Do you believe that guy? This is a f%*$ing nightmare! The farmlands have been under attack for a week, and we’re just now hearing about it? Who knows how many ghouls are out there now?”
Father Abstalar patted Jerk reassuringly on the shoulder. “Have faith, my son. Things are not so dire yet – the night is young.”
Jerk looked annoyed. “What does that mean? Are things going to get worse before the night is over?”
“Not if I have any say in this.” Aesop declared grimly. “Let’s armor up, and ride out. We’ll hit the Hambley Farm on the way to the Misgivings. We can escort Zantus and Grump to Habe’s Sanatorium, since it is on the way.”
Everyone spoke at once: “Why are we going to the Sanatorium?” “I don’t wear armor.” “The Misgivings?” “Redhammer!” “What, you mean right now? What about Sunday dinner?” “I have a date.” “I have a date, too.”
Aesop held up his hands for silence. “Look, we can do this. We need to do this, especially at night, when ghouls are most active. Undeath is a cancer, and we must attack it at the source with knife and flame.” Aesop looked grim; the others looked uncomfortable.
| Alex Y |
From a distance, casual observers may comment on how colorful and cheerful the six riders seemed: flickering flames of red, orange, yellow, and blue eventually gave way to a steady silvery radiance at the end of the column. Up close, however, it becomes apparent that these were not Varisian entertainers out for a ride, at night, through ghoul-infested farmlands. Instead, these were heavily-armed adventurers who looked like they were aiming to misbehave:
- The dwarf warrior, in full plate armor and carrying a tower shield, sat high on a sorrel.
- The Shoanti brave, in mithral and leather, rode a magnificent blue roan who seemed unconcerned with the flaming orange kukri tied to its chest.
- A cleric of Sarenrae, in full plate armor and vestments of blue and gold, rode a palomino.
- A Varisian warlock, wearing a broad-brimmed hat and a long coat, slouched atop a bay with four flaming skulls tied to its chest.
- An improbably beautiful man, wearing only a short toga and carrying only a quarterstaff, perched delicately on a white horse with a flaming blue kukri tied to its chest.
- A brutish priest of Nethys, in mithral and steel and vestments of black and white, emanated silvery light and brought up the rear on a dapple gray.
The priest of Nethys lowered his hand. “It’s f!+*ing Lamashan – what’s up with this corn and wheat? Shouldn’t these fields be clear by now? Sandoz?”
The Varisian warlock spoke as if possessed by a higher power: “It’s winter corn and winter wheat – don’t think too hard about it.”
The others snickered. Jerk smirked. The party rode in.
***
“Zu, I love your horse.” Jerk declared as the muscles in his jaw unclenched. “I owe him my life, and I’ll never forget it. Tell him I love him, and that I’ll pay him back.”
“I’ll tell him.” The Shoanti brave whispered something to the blue roan, who snorted. “Shadowmist says you’re covered in ghoul. Do him a favor and stay downwind.”
Jerk shrugged, and followed Zu and Shadowmist back to the path. He hurried to the cleric of Sarenrae, and sat him up. ”Aesop. Aesop! Are you okay?”
After a minute, Aesop answered. “That didn’t go so well. Was anyone else hurt by the ghouls?” Everyone except the dwarf raised their hands. Aesop sighed.
“Are we infected? Am I infected?” Jerk asked nervously. “Is Alton going to turn into a deathlord? Sandoz?!”
“Jerk,” Aesop laid a hand on his cousin’s arm, “calm down. You’re going to be fine. Everyone’s going to be fine.”
“Fine…fine…” Jerk looked around at the carnage. “So…I count six ghouls. Plus the one Sandoz blasted from earlier; that leaves three or four more.”
“How do you figure?”
“Farmer Hambley had a wife and three sons, so that’s five. Farmer Grump was with five of his neighbors, so that’s ten. Plus the leader of The Pack, who may or may not still be around.”
“Hmm. We’ll see.”
***
Sheriff Hemlock held a perfumed handkerchief to his nose. “Why in the world did you bring those back?”
Jerk hopped off of the wagon. “Well, once we learned to protect Father Aesop from the ghouls, he started dusting them. These eight we whacked normally – maybe you can still identify them.”
“How many ghouls were at the farm?”
“Twenty-four.”
“Really?” The Sheriff looked impressed. “Was the necromancer there?”
“No, but he left Alton another note.” Jerk handed over a bloody scrap of paper, and jerked a thumb at the pile of bodies. “Farmer Hambley there was carved up and sacrificed – we think for the sin of avarice, too.” Jerk indicated a large wooden chest. “Thirty-four bags of silver, one hundred coins in each bag. We’re going to donate this to the orphanage.”
The Sheriff paused, and looked from Jerk to Sandoz. “Where is everybody else?”
“At the Sanatorium.” Sandoz explained. “We rescued the Guffmans, but they’re infected, so Aesop is tending to them. We don’t know if Alton was infected, but we locked him up for safety with Baltin and Zu on guard.”
“Sounds drastic. What are you going to do now?”
Jerk yawned. “I’m going to bed. I need a nap.”
The Sheriff looked at Sandoz. “Pixie?”
Sandoz looked at the Sheriff’s handkerchief meaningfully. “Pussy.”
| Alex Y |
“Jer’kles. Taste this.” Titus Scarnetti held out a dark red tomato, and waited expectantly.
Jerk dutifully took a bite. “It’s good. Juicy. Where did you buy it?”
“I grew it, in my new greenhouse. Damn thing cost a fortune, but it’s worth every silver to enjoy tomatoes and cucumbers in the winter.” Titus poured himself a glass of orange juice. “You missed dinner. Rosa said you were helping Belor.”
“I was. I still am. In fact, that’s why I’m here.” Jerk cleared his throat. “Banny Harker was murdered Starday night. Three men – Mortwell, Hask, and Tabe – were murdered Oathday night. A farmer named Hambley was murdered a week ago.”
“Why should I care?” Titus asked curiously.
“I think the serial killer is targeting those who are notorious guilty of the sin of avarice.”
Titus glared at Jerk. “I don’t like where this is going.”
“I’m not here to point fingers, Uncle Titus. I’m just saying that it may be a good time to take a trip, until we catch this wacko.”
“We? When did you join the town guard? What about your Nethys racket?”
“It’s not a racket!” Jerk snapped, before he could control himself. “I mean, it started out as one, but now I like learning about magic and shit. Look, why don’t you go to Magnimar? It’s safer there, and it’s just two days away.”
“And stay where? With my uncle?” Titus snorted. “He’s the reason why my father moved here in the first place. Fuggedaboutit.”
Jerk rolled his eyes. “Fine. Just don’t blame me if someone tries to carve a seven-pointed star in you.”
***
It was raining when the party arrived at The Misgivings. The journey to the childhood home of Sir Aldern Foxglove was uneventful, though the change in scenery from fertile farmlands to desolate moors to foreboding cliffs seemed shockingly abrupt. The house itself looked abandoned.
“You know, we’re probably going to wreck this place. Should we talk to Aldern first, before we go in?” Alton wondered.
Aesop shook his head. “We don’t have time to ride to Magnimar and back. Sometimes, it’s better to ask for forgiveness than for permission. Jerk – the doors.”
“Right.” Jerk walked up to the front doors and began stretching.
“Jerk, you have the key.” Aesop reminded his cousin patiently. “From the ghouls in the barn?”
“Oh yeah.” Jerk pulled out an ornate iron key and unlocked the door. “Sorry – old habits die hard.”
Baltin entered first, followed by the others. “What about the horses?” Jerk asked.
“They’re better off outside.” Zu decided as he sniffed at the air. “I don’t want them near this mold.”
“Good idea.” Aesop concurred as he eyed the stuffed manticore crouching in the middle of the room. “Do you smell something burning?”
Alton sniffed, and then cocked his head to one side. “No, but I hear someone crying…from upstairs.”
Jerk looked at Sandoz, who shrugged. “Maybe it’s Aldern,” Jerk suggested as he sheathed his longsword. “Let’s go upstairs and see.”
The party followed Baltin up a flight of stairs that groaned beneath their combined weight and found themselves in a dark hallway with closed doors on every side. “It’s jammed,” Jerk grunted as he pushed against the first door. “The wood must be swollen.”
“Let me try.” With apparently no effort, Alton shouldered the door open and walked into what looked like a child’s bedroom. He then collapsed.
“Alton! Alton!” Aesop rushed to squeeze past Jerk, but then Alton sat up. “What happened?”
“I don’t know.” The aasimar looked confused. “I saw my mother with a torch and my father with a knife. They were trying to kill each other. They were going to kill me! But…I never knew my parents.”
Jerk looked at Sandoz, who traced a circle around his temple with his forefinger. “Uh, Alton, how would you describe your childhood?” Jerk asked innocently.
Alton brushed aside the question with a wave of his arm. “This isn’t my memory.”
“So it’s someone else’s memory? Has Irori blessed you with psychic powers?”
“This house could be haunted.” Sandoz suggested. “Maybe that’s why the murderer wants Alton here – to complete some sort of ritual.”
“Let’s burn this place down.” Jerk suggested; Alton enthusiastically agreed.
“Not yet.” Aesop decided. “I will happily cleanse this site with the purifying flame of Sarenrae, but only as a last resort. We need to know more. Alton, lead the way – you’re going to open the rest of these doors.”
| Yasha0006 |
They put Alton in front. HAHAH!
Again Alex...great storytelling. Oh, and personally I have no idea if your DM is actually serious about the Aasimar-Deathlord thing, or if its just Sandoz messing with everyone (which is what I believe). Either way its freaking awesome.
It seems like most players forget superstitions and the worth of scaring someone into being cautious...it definately makes for more memorable games!
| blackotter |
Hi Yasha...glad you are enjoying the story. I know that Im enjoying running the game. Thanks for the compliments, but most of the kudos belong with paizo for providing such a great adventure to run.
About the Deathlord thing...its just a superstition to keep the locals in line. (They had mentioned some local superstitions about Nualia, so i figured those would also apply to Alton)
| Yasha0006 |
Oh I know its just a 'superstition'. That is one of the things that is making this journal such an excellent one. Not too many games have players talking about their superstitions, or unscroupulous Warlocks perpetuating them for fun either.
Trust me as well...I thank Paizo at least every few days for the RotRL AP and Pathfinder in general.
| Alex Y |
Anything for my only reader. :)
***
Hours passed. Visions of tragedy and horror awaited the party in each room, so much so that Jerk briefly contemplated selling the rights to the Foxglove story to the Sandpoint Theater. After bashing down an iron door in the basement, the party rested as Sandoz relayed the story of Vorel Foxglove’s bid for lichdom and Alton relayed how Aldern was dragged into the depths by a pack of ghouls.
Jerk nodded sagely as he listened to the stories. “Alright, I think we found our necromancer: it’s Vorel. If he wants Alton, he’ll have to come through us. Father, can you destroy a lich?”
Aesop thought for a moment. Ephod of Authority…Talisman of Undead Mastery…Scepter of the Underworld…Phylactery of Undead Turning… “Maybe, but the holy relics of Sarenrae are hundreds of miles away.” Aesop looked at Alton. “Do you want to go down there? Vorel may be beyond all of us.”
Alton looked at the opened stairwell, and then at his companions. He began glowing, and led the way into the darkness.
***
Eldritch blasts from Sandoz and magic missiles from Jerk smashed into the dire bat-ghoul again and again, staggering it long enough for Alton to jump up and punch through its head. “I think we found Farmer Grump’s fearsome bat-winged devil,” Sandoz muttered as he scanned the large cave for magic. “Ah! A new hat for me, and a strange sword for Jerk.”
Jerk hefted the sword and measured the blade between thumb and forefinger. “Two feet nine inches long…one inch wide…diamond cross-section, with a six inch ricasso and a nine inch hilt. Unless I’m mistaken, only one man carries a Varisian estoc like this: Shaz the Redshiv.”
“Shaz the Redshiv?” Baltin asked as Jerk began pulling the pants off the half-eaten corpses in the room.
“Shaz the Redshiv!” Jerk exclaimed triumphantly as he pointed downwards. “This little f~$@er’s worth ten pounds of gold. And this,” Jerk crooned to the matte-black blade in his hands, “is the adamantine beauty known as The Crowbar.”
Zu handed Jerk a knife and a sack. “I do not collect those heads,” the Shoanti brave explained.
***
“Did that goblin-ghoul look familiar to you?” Jerk asked Aesop as the two climbed down a sloping ledge toward a stone door below. “I thought I heard him yell ‘Birdcrunchers’ just before he dove into the water.”
“Really? How odd.” Aesop turned to the others. “This is it: whatever has been plaguing this house is probably behind this door. You ready?” All nodded; Alton opened the door, and Baltin entered.
| Yasha0006 |
Clapping
Oh well done. Well done. Please tell me the whole 'Redshiv' conversation actually happened in game? Also, a sword named 'The Crowbar' is just plain great!
And for the crowning achievement which had me LOL my ass off..."Did that Goblin ghoul say Birdcrunchers?"
| Alex Y |
We laughed, too, when Aesop's player turned to us and said, "Ibn." He had spent all except one turning attempt on the other ghouls in the caverns, so could not destroy the goblins and had to settle for a normal turning. "Ibn" is the only one that managed to flee.
It was way past our end time when we finished with the dire bat-ghoul, so I had to fluff out Redshiv and The Crowbar via e-mail. Sorry to disappoint you, but I believe my exact words at the table were, "What kind of stupid name is Redshiv?!" followed by "Do I need to bring everything back to Magnimar?"
The following post is courtesy of our DM, who had to clarify everything in written form so that we could remember exactly who revealed what to whom, since we ended the last session debating the fate of Ironbriar.
***
The first thing the party noticed was the unearthly stench that practically roiled the air around them. The second thing the party noticed was the source of the stench: a ghast in satin and velvet standing motionlessly in front of a painting on an easel. “I am Sir Aldern Foxglove,” the ghast pronounced pompously as he looked Baltin up and down. “Lower your weapon, sirrah, lest I draw mine. Do I see more visitors? Come in, come in! I bid you all welcome.”
Hesitantly, Alton walked into the cavern, flanked by Baltin and Zu. “Sir Aldern?”
“No!” Aldern’s eyes suddenly widened at the sight of the aasimar. “You were supposed to die! You still live! You still…urk!” Fumbling at the handaxe that Zu had hurled into his chest, Aldern reached out to Alton. “Please…save me! He will come again! Or even worse…the Skinsaw Man!”
“Who?” Jerk asked, as he tried hard not to gag.
“Can’t say. Won’t say.” Aldern’s eyes darted around the room nervously. “I never meant for this to happen. I just wanted to come home, but no one would help. So I contacted some of my father's friends – the Brothers of the Seven. They counseled me, and helped me with the paperwork. But I couldn’t find any workers! Only the most desperate would come, and none would stay for more than a few days. It’s those rats! Scratching, and clawing, and making it impossible to sleep.”
“Who’s the Skinsaw Man?” Jerk asked again.
“Iesha!” Aldern’s eyes relaxed. “It was a dark and stormy night, and she was stranded here with her troupe. As beautiful as the night, with the heart of a lion – she was the most striking woman I had ever seen. I loved her. I wooed her. She became mine! But then she betrayed me…”
“I don’t think he’s listening to me,” Jerk whispered to Baltin; the dwarf was staring at a patch of fungus on the far wall, and did not answer.
“The elf was right!” Aldern sobbed, and threw down Zu’s handaxe. “He told me that she was just after my money; he said that she would sleep with the workers when I’m not around. I did not want to believe, but I saw them: her and that carpenter, side by side in the library. She actually tried to stop me, to protect her lover! But I killed him, and then I killed her…”
“And then what happened?” Sandoz, resplendent in Iesha’s scarf, began to creep towards a shattered puzzlebox near the far wall.
“I threw him in the well!” Aldern roared, and then quieted. “But I couldn’t do the same to my love. I wrapped her in a drape, and took her to the attic. I asked the Brothers for help. They told me that I should stay in Magnimar while they took care of things; they said that I should tell visitors that Iesha was in Absalom visiting friends. I began taking flayleaf…” Aldern’s face grimaced spasmodically. “I paid the Brothers more and more, week after week. The payments were killing me! But I had to keep paying, or else they might have reported me to the justices…And then I met the woman!”
“What woman?” Jerk asked.
“She didn’t tell me her name,” Aldern replied calmly. ”She just said that if I brought her rats from my basement, my debts would be paid in full. I cleaned myself up, gave up the leaf, and headed home. But I found myself in Sandpoint, at the Swallowtail Festival. I was lost – and then I saw him.” All eyes turned to Alton. “He was so beautiful…so pure. He saved me from the goblins. I wanted to be just like him: clean, and perfect.” Sandoz caught Jerk’s eye, and traced a circle around his temple with his forefinger. “I returned to the Manor and vowed to start a new life. I pushed all thoughts of Iesha from my mind. I just needed a few rats…but they were gone! I couldn't find them anywhere! And then I heard the scratching, from beneath the floor.” Aldern stared at Alton. “I dug. For you! All for you! I found them. Thousands of them. I also found mold, but it made me sick…so sick. You said that you would keep me pure. You lied! You lied! You lied!”
“Now?” Zu asked as he eyed the distance between him and his handaxe.
“Not yet,” Aesop answered.
Aldern sighed. “By the time I returned to Magnimar, all I felt was hunger. All around me: delicious, warm meat. Just like you. But you are pure: pure angelic flesh. Your flesh will make me pure. You will make me better.” Aldern’s eyes narrow, and he grins. With one swift motion, he pulls on a mask and suddenly his appearance becomes like Alton’s. "I wonder how your deaths shall affect your friends. What things might you have done that will go unfinished? What will those broken promises spawn? How will your murders shape the world?"
“Now?’
“F+%$ yeah.”
| Yasha0006 |
A very good rendition of the Skinsaw-Man conversation. Congrats to Blackotter for really making him a complete raving nut-job. I know hes supposed to be, but it take the right delivery and mannerisms to pull it off and it seems like Blackotter did well.
Another thing I love about your group is that they don't just attack first, ask questions later. That is a very good trait in a party.
| Alex Y |
Believe me, we have as much restraint as the next D&D party -- the DM bribed us with action points so that we would listen to Aldern's monologue. Heck, Sandoz's player still tells stories of when my d20 Modern Lara-Croft-wannabe emptied an assault rifle into the BBEG before he could so much as muahahah.
This is just a quick post before our game tomorrow -- we face Xanesha!
***
“I really enjoyed that.” Jerk confessed to Sandoz as the two stood over the hacked and blasted remains of Angelic Alton. Sandoz nodded, and regretfully pulled off Alton’s mangled face to reveal the ghastly visage of Sir Aldern Foxglove. “Yo Father,” Jerk called, “are we done here?”
Aesop looked hard at the patch of fungus on the wall. “I think so. We really should raze this house and hallow it, but surviving members of the Foxglove clan may object. Let’s just torch this room and go home.”
***
Sheriff Hemlock walked into the Sanatorium and found Aesop polishing his armor by the hearth. “Is it done?” The Sheriff asked. “Did you destroy the necromancer?”
“Yes and no,” Aesop replied as he tossed a mangy raven feather into the fire. “We found and destroyed your serial killer – it was Sir Aldern Foxglove. We identified the necromancer – it was Vorel Foxglove, Sir Aldern’s grandfather. We think the essence of Vorel is haunting The Misgivings, and turned Sir Aldern into a ghast when he attempted to reclaim the manor.”
Sheriff Hemlock furrowed his brows. “So…will there be more murders?”
“I don’t know.”
“What should I tell the townsfolk?”
“Tell them they’re safe. For now.”
“That’s not good enough!”
“With all due respect, Sheriff,” Aesop stood up and looked the lawman in the eye, “that’s all I’ve got. Jerk wants to chase a few leads in Magnimar, because Sir Aldern said a few things before we had to put him down, but it’s been a very long day and I still need to help Father Zantus tend to the Guffmans.”
The Sheriff considered his options. “Want me to send word ahead – let Magnimar know you’re coming?”
“Better not. Magnimar may not appreciate some of our techniques.”
***
Jerk addressed the others: “Alright people, listen up! Sandoz here is going to assume the likeness of Aldern and attempt to unlock the front door with this key. That’s Plan A. If he ‘accidentally’ drops the key, we’re going to casually walk up and engage him in conversation, so that I can use The Crowbar on the lock. That’s Plan B. Any questions? Zu?”
The Shoanti brave lowered his hand. “Alive Aldern or undead Aldern?”
“Alive,” Aesop replied, “because most folks don’t chat with the undead.”
“Very good point. Thank you Father Aesop. No other questions? Let’s go!”
| Sandoz |
Just as a side note: we've also been listening to a group called Midnight Syndicate while we play. It's spooky instrumental music that compliments the creepier aspects of the series rather well. Basically, it's gothic ambient music, but it does the trick.
http://www.midnightsyndicate.com/
| Alex Y |
In addition to the creepy mood music from Midnight Syndicate, the skeleton attack track ("To the Pirates' Cave!") from the Pirates of the Caribbean soundtrack is great during a big fight. Yar!
***
Sandoz-Aldern led the way into “his” townhouse, and found it in complete disarray. Muddy footprints criss-crossed the foyer, and all of the trophies in the great hall were cast down and ripped open. The dining room looked no better: someone had apparently taken a hatchet to the table and chairs.
“I don’t do this much damage when I search, do I?” Alton picked up a broken chair and set it in the corner. “I mean, why would someone split open a table leg?”
“Maybe they couldn’t magically detect secret doors or compartments.” Sandoz-Aldern replied as he watched Jerk methodically scan the walls, floor, and ceiling. Just then, the far door opened and revealed…Aldern and Iesha.
“What are you doing in my house?!” The other Aldern demanded as he drew his longsword.
“What are you doing in my house?” Sandoz-Aldern retorted as he brandished a fistful of green flame.
“Oh for crying out loud.” Jerk drew his own longsword and leveled it at the other Aldern. “Why are we even talking?”
The skirmish was brief and bloody.
“I don’t know which is more disturbing: that this is their true form, or that you voluntarily used the mask to assume their true form.” Aesop told Baltin as he checked the vaguely-humanoid-shape-formerly-posing-as-Aldern for signs of life. A vaguely humanoid Baltin, having added Sir Aldern’s mask to the two other fetishes on his tower shield, simply giggled menacingly at a vaguely humanoid Iesha.
“What are you going to do with me?” Iesha asked as she bravely tried to ignore the axe-wielding giggler.
“That depends on you.” Jerk replied as he sheathed his estoc and retrieved his longsword. “You had the good sense to surrender; tell us something we want to know.”
“I am not a doppleganger,” Iesha protested. “I cannot read minds.”
“Try.” Jerk leveled his longsword at the vaguely humanoid shape. “This is the cursed sword of Koruvus the Goblin King. It hates me, and spurns my grasp. But it hungers, and has promised to obey me for a fortnight if I would only feed it your soul.”
“You wouldn’t.” The vague semblance of Iesha’s face looked worried. “Would you?”
Jerk smiled kindly. “Let’s start with who sent you.”
***
“Do we believe her?” Aesop asked as he watched Sandoz-Aldern escort a haughty elf off the premises. “Why would a Justice employ faceless stalkers as guards?”
Jerk shrugged. “I think the better question is how a Justice managed to find faceless stalkers to hire in the first place.”
“Want to search the rest of this house?” Alton suggested after a moment of silence.
“Why not.” Jerk stretched. “We may find something useful before Justice Ironbriar pays us a visit.”
| Alex Y |
“Herakleos!” The old man embraced Jerk warmly. “What are you doing here?”
“Just passing through, nonno. I brought you a gift: two bottles of Vigardeis.”
The old man examined the labels carefully. “This is a very good vintage. I thank you, but how can you afford this? Annalisa tells me that the church pays next to nothing, and she’s a professor!”
Jerk shuffled his feet. “Well, uh, I’ve been supplementing my stipend with a second job.”
“You didn’t!” The old man looked scandalized. “So the rumors are true: you’ve been adventuring! I thought we agreed, after what happened in Falcon’s Hollow – what if that warg had attacked?”
“But nonno, I’m never more than an arm’s reach away from Cousin Aesop. He’s practically a Radiant Servant of Sarenrae!”
The old man snorted, and handed the wine to his valet. “So are you in town for business or pleasure? Where’s my great-granddaughter? What’s her name again?”
“Emily. I’ll bring her in the summer – Rosa doesn’t like traveling in the rain.”
“Doesn’t like the rain? You should have moved to Korvosa, then, like your father!” The old man sat down in a rocking chair. “What were we talking about?”
“Business.” Jerk produced a sheaf of papers. “Nonno, have you heard of an organization calling itself the Brothers of the Seven?”
“Seven what?”
“Seven sins, maybe? No? How about Justice Ironbriar?”
“What about that a&!++@~? Is he trying to ask you about that thing? Tell him to talk to my lawyers.”
“Uh, okay…” Jerk looked around the room. “Listen, nonno, can you do me a favor? Can you do something about these titles? The owner is dead, but he may still have family around. We’ll be staying at his townhouse for a while.”
“Sure, sure, just leave it with Brian. Come for lunch tomorrow – it’s not safe to be out at night any more: too many crazies!”
***
“So what did Grandpa Gaius say?” Aesop asked when Jerk returned to the Foxglove Townhouse. “Does he know the Brothers of the Seven?”
“Nah. He knew Ironbriar though – the elf is apparently a ‘hanging judge’ who likes to get personally involved in the cases that come before him. Nonno needs to give a deposition next week about something or another.”
“Ah well. So, do you want to visit the Seven’s Sawmill, to see what’s going on there?”
“Sure. How about Moonday night? Baltin’s buddy should be done with our stuff by then.”
“Did he end up buying your sword?”
“Yep. Didn’t tell him about the curse, of course, but he loved the story of Koruvus the Four-Armed Goblin King.”