One of my players is doing an awesome job of keeping a diary of our sessions in fictionalized form. He's posting everything on the ENworld.org forums here: http://www.enworld.org/showthread.php?t=209074_
Here's the account of our first session so far:
A Savage Tidings Tale
Subtitled: Rebel Without A Clue
Being the story of one Thalas Serranon, elven battlemancer, his companions, and their adventures in, around, and beyond the fabled city of Sasserine.
Dramatis Personae:
As of 7 OCT 07:
Arjan, Human Druid 1 (Vow of Poverty) (Played by KingCrab)
Athal, Elf Warblade 1 (Played by drquestion)
Kyrsith, Elf Cleric 1
Thalas, Elf Duskblade 1 (Played by Olgar Shiverstone)
Morderas, Half-Drow (?) Rogue 1
Author's Note: This is a log of a 3.5 campaign based on the Dungeon Savage Tide Adventure Path. EN World's Failed Saving Throw is the DM. I'm not the greatest fiction writer, and I don't know how often I'll update this campaign log, but hopefully some of the other players and DM will also post here to provide their perspectives.
Session 1: It begins.
In which our heroes are introduced, a mysterious letter arrives, and an even more mysterious ship is investigated invaded.
Thalas was knocking back a mid-day brew at the Hunter's Trap in Sunrise, pondering whether to take a stroll down to the arena, break out a spell book for a bit of study, or head out to Standign Stone Park for a bit of blade practice when she walked into the tavern.
The human boor talking loudly about the deer that got away and its impossible size paid her no mind, nor would he -- she was a grey-haired, elderly halfling woman, who stood but three foot in height, just over half Thalas' size. Thalas typically took but little notice of humans except as sources of amusement, and even less of halflings, but this woman strode purposefull toward him, bowing and handing him a rolled parchment with an unusual seal.
Thalas raised an eyebrow at the halfling woman, then broke the seal and unrolled the parchment. It read:
Quote:
Greetings, and I trust this missive finds you in good health!
My name is Lavinia Vanderboren, and I humbly request your attendance at dinner at my estate on Festival Street and Blue Skink Lane tomorrow evening. I thikn that I can present you with an opportunity uniquely suited to your skills. Please inform the carrier of this letter of your response to this invitation, and I hope to be speaking to you soon!
-- Lavinia Vanderboren
Corellon's hairless nutsack! Thalas thought. A decade of ditching the nobility and they've finally tracked my down. My uncle is probably behind this, which means I should head for the jungle immediately. On the other hand ... the Vanderborens aren't usually marching to the tune of the Dawn Council, and have been in disgrace. Perhaps by going along I'll find out what hand my uncle played in tracking me down. Who knows, it could give me my first clue.
He put down the letter. "Tell Lavinia I'll be there." He was most certainly not going to bow and scrape to one of Sasserine's leading families, no matter how rich. Precautions might be needed ... a chain shirt under his tunic tonight, Demonbane at his side. A sword could appear formal, but still show he couldn't be cowed.
The halfing woman was departing the tavern; on a whim Thalas swiftly rose and followed her. Best check to make sure she really serves the Vanderborens!
He darted from alley way to alleyway as she made her way across the Sunrise disctrict to the bridges to the Merchant's Quarter. The diminutive woman looked neither left nor right, and kept up a steady pace. Thalas meanwhile moved in a crouch, taking exaggerated care not to be seen -- never mind that it was noon, there wasn't a shadow to hide in anywhere, and the streets were crowded enough that is every move could be seen. Sneaking had never been his strong suit.
Eventually, the halfling reached the large, walled compound that was the Vanderboren estate in the Merchant Quarter. Satisfied that she was whom she claimed, Thalas broke off pursuit, returning to Sunrise to prepare for the morrow's entertainment.
Sasserine is an odd city. Backed against the Amedio Jungle, it is a long, long way from the better known and more civilized parts of the Flaness. As the only port in the region, though, it serves as a center for both trade and civilization. Beings of many cultures met and mingled in Sasserine to exchange goods and services. Pirates secretly serving the Scarlet Brotherhood might enter the port to do more or less honest buiness, while adventurers gathered strange animal, plants and artifacts from the jungles to the south for sale in the back alleys of Sasserine's grey market. If it can be imagined, went the old phrase, it can be seen or bought in Sasserine.
So it was without particular surprise that Thalas found the oddly matched pair awaiting him at the gates of Vanderboren manner the following evening. He'd arrived fashionably late, just as planned, his father's sword worn rakishly on one hip, and a moderately serviceable shirt and tunic covering his chain shirt beneath. He'd deliberately mussed his straight black hair, the better to present his planned facade of cautious indifference. If Lavinia Vanderboren really knew who he was, he would send the message that we hasn't afraid; if she didn't, then his current appearance would be assumed to be his normal character, and so much the better.
The two beings waiting outside the gate, however, did not appear to have taken equal care. One appeared to be a human of indeterminate gender. Race, even, was hard to determine as the man? woman? thing? stank to Arborea, wore about six layers of never-cured hides, and had painted all exposed skin with green and black pigments. The other was a male elf of about Thalas' age, who paced nervously back and forth, wearing very fine clothing that was obviously newly purchased for the occasion.
To his surprise, Thalas did recognize the elf. He shouldn't have been startled; the elven population of Sasserine was fairly small, and even this far from the center of elvendom on Oerth all the elves of a certain age still spent time together learning the traditional elven arts of sword and bow, woodcraft and magecraft.
"Athal! What are you doing here?" Thalas asked. He knew Athal vaguely -- they had sparred a few times a few decades back when both were still learning the sword, but had seldom crossed paths since. Thalas had a vague memory of Athal being from one of the poorer elven families in Sasserine, an issue made much of by his parents but that made little sense at the time to a just-turned-seventy elf boy.
"I was invited." Athal flourished a parchment similar to that Thalas carried. "My sword and services are required by the great house of Vanderboren."
Thalas sneered but said nothing. The -- thing -- under the hides watched but remained silent. Thalas shrugged. "I guess we go up?"
The gates were open, and from the lighted doorway of the manor itself Thalas could see another figure just entering. He and Athal followed, with the painted stranger training just beyond scent range behind.
The entryway of the manor was lavishly appointed with polished and inlaid wood, though the wear on many of the surfaces indicated that times were not as prosperous as they once had been. Thalas reviewed what he remembered of the Vanderborens. The were a weathy merchant family with interests in the shipping business, who made their money the new way: they earned it, sometimes honestly, sometimes not. They had been successful enough to buy influence with the Dawn Council, until recently. There had been a fire that had destroyed much property and killed the senior Vanderboren and his wife, leaving behind the two adult children, Lavinia and Vanthus. There were rumors of financial problems, but beyond that Thalas knew little. Human society changed so rapidly that it was impossible to keep up.
The elderly halfling woman who had delivered the message was waiting, along with another: Kyrsith, a young elven woman also of Thalas' age wearing the robes and sigil of the House of the Dragon, one of the academies in town. Thalas knew her moderately well, as his mother had served as Kyrsith's magical tutor for a time. They still occasionally crossed paths at some of the bookshops and magical emporiums in town, though they shared little else in common.
"Kyrsith, what brings you here?" Thalas inquired.
"I was invited, silly," Kyrsith replied smugly, "You?"
"The same. This is Athal, and ... ." The green mute remained mute.
"Welcome all," the halfling woman intoned. "If you would be so kind as to wait in the sitting room - " at this she motioned to a room off the foyer. "I'll inform my mistress that you all have arrived."
The four stepped into the sitting room, which was finely but not lavishly appointed and decorated with a nautical theme, paintings and bas-reliefs of various ships and watercraft adorning the walls.
"Who's the freak?" Thalas asked Kyrsith and Athal in a stage whisper. He eyed the green monster.
Athal shrugged, but Kyrsith smiled at the green mute and said "I'm Kyrsith, what's your name?"
"Arjan," came the response, but nothing further followed.
"Well, Arjan, " Kyrsith began, but she trailed off as four adventurers passed through the room. The first was a part-elven male clad in leather with daggers strapped everywhere on his person. The second was a dwarf, dark-skinned wearing green and brown robes. The third was an attractive -- by human standards, anyway -- human woman wearing the tattoo of a crescent moon on one side of her face. The last was a tall human male in a fine polished breastplate.
"I see them help has arrived," the man said jauntily as he passed.
"The help? The help!" Thalas shouted as the man departed. "Now, you come back and explain-". There was the sound of a gong, and from the adjoining chamber came a voice:
"Lady Vanderboren. Dinner is served."
The four were escorted into a large, well-lit high-ceilinged chamber dominated by a long polished table in the center which was surrounded by high-backed chairs. The table was set for a multi-course meal. At the far end of the chamber was a larger-than-life-sized portrait of a young, fair-skinned, bearded nobleman. Standing facing the portrait was a tall woman in an elegant blue gown. As she turned, her beauty became apparent. Even for a human she was striking, thin and lanky but clearly athletic, and with less than the usual curved padding that most human women carried. Given the woman's dress, Thalas noted that Athal was the only one actually properly attired for the occasion. He himself looked like a ragged vagabond in comparison. Arjan, meanwhile, was simply indescribable, and stared at the woman with what appeared to be hunger while he licked -- was that pink frosting? -- from his lips.
"I am Kavinia Vanderboren," the woman announced simply. "Thank you for responding to my summons." Athal and Kyrsith bowed their heads. Arjan stood slack jawed; Thalas merely smirked. "Please be seated."
Shrugging, Thalas flopped into a chair at one end of the table, opposite Kyrsith and Athal and next to Arjan. Lady Vanderboren remained standing, pacing, wrining her hands in obvious discomfort. Here we go, Thalas thought.
"You've all probably heard the rumors," Lady Vanderboren began. "It pains me to admit it, but most of them are true. Due to a series of unfortunate events" what an interesting choice of phrase "my family finds itself in debt to the Dawn Council, the Harbormaster, and several of the Guilds. Wealth we still have, but it lies in our magically locked vault beneath Castle Terakaian. The key to the vault -- a family signet ring -- is secured on one of our ships, the Blue Nixie. Unfortunately, the Nixie was seized for non-payment of debt, and though I have paid the required fee and more to a despicable man named Silar Vark, I still have not been granted access to the ship. I fear the ship may be being misused by factors unknown. In any case, I cannot risk the true nature of my plight becoming known across the city, which is where you come in. Here is my offer." She paused, reading their faces. Thalas tried to put on his best poker face, but succeeded only in looking glassy-eyed. "I'll give you 200 gold nobles each to gain access to the Nixie and retrieve my key, and if possible the money I paid Vark. Return, and there will be an additional reward for your help in reachign my vault."
Not what I expected, Thalas thought. My uncle profits from this how? If he's behind this, he'd be sinking Vanderboren's ship, not maneuvering me into helping her. Assuming she's not lying, and I doubt she is, helping her could be a real eyepoke to the old man.
He interrupted. "So let me get this straight. You want us to break into your ship, steal this key, ring, whatever; steal back your money, then break into your vault?"
Lady Vanderboren blushed. "I sincerely hope breaking and entering will not be required. You may be able to convince Vark to hand over the ship given that the requsite fees have been paid. but if not, well, you have the right of it."
Thalas smiled. Stickin' it to the man! "I'm in!" he announced impetuously.
Lady Vanderboren turned to Athal and Kyrsith. After a few questions and a bit of unpracticed fawning by Athal, both agreed to help. Arjan merely meekly asked: "You said something about food?"
Lavinia smiled and clapped for the meal to be brought in. Just as she did so, however, there was a commotion at the door. Two guards were dragging in a slight, cloaked figure who was struggling mightily.
"We found this one lurking outside, yer ladyship" one guard said, saluting. The two guards propped the prisoner up. He/she -- probably he, given the absence of certain features -- was of moderate height and slight of build, and wore a dark cowl that completely cloaked the face in darkness, save for a few stray whisps of pale hair that escaped from beneath it. The figure struggled to keep the cowl forward, but one guard jerked it back.
Lavinia Vanderboren gasped and went pale.
The stranger's features were somewhere between human and elven -- not as rounded as a human's, but neither as angular as an elf's. What was truly strange, though, was his coloration: dusky grey skin, pale hair, and dark, almost violet eyes.
"Half-elven abomination!" Lavinia hissed. "What are you doing here?"
"I have information that may be of use to you," the stranger answered nonchalantly. "And in return, I expect you will be able to help me as well."
"Pah! What could you possibly know that would be of help, drow?"
"I know why you have asked these others here," the stranger continued, nonplussed. "I've been to your ship, and I know where the guards are posted, and I know a way past the patrols. These others won't succeed without me."
Thalas whispered across the table to Kyrsith: "I thought drow were a myth?"
Lavinia continued: "And what would you expect in return?"
"In due time," the stranger replied. "Nothing you can't afford or won't part with."
"And why should I trust you?" she replied.
Thalas bristled. Vanderboren's inherent superiority complex was showing -- and he did resent the superiority of the nobility. He interrupted: "For that matter, how can you trust any of us?"
Lavinia spluttered. "Well, I , uh, I ... I suppose you are right. Very well, let this other join you. Please enjoy your meal; I seem to have lost my appetite." She turned on her heel and left the room.
Thalas narrowed his eyes and sized up the stranger, whom the guards had released. The man pulled his cowl back up over his head and grabbed a spot at the table. Well, he looks trustworthy. [OOC: Sense motive = 1]. Arjan, meanwhile, looked from the stanger to the food, and began stuffing his face.
"So, you do know that drow are mythical, right?" Thalas said to the stranger in a conversational tone. "You didn't mention your name, either. I'm Thalas."
"Morderas," the stanger replied, eyeing the others. "So you're tha amateurs I'm, saddled with? What good are you?"
"I've no equal with sword or spell," Thalas boasted. Amateur?
"I'm not bad with either, either," Kyrsith said.
"And I know my way around a sword," Athal replied. "Perhaps we should consider a plan while we eat?"
"Plan, what plan?" Thalas replied. "Seems easy enough. Row out to the ship, knock the guards over the head, grab the key and go. Simple."
"Not so simple," Morderas said. "I have a boat, and I exaggerate a bit about the patrols, but the ship is guarded."
"Maybe we should poke around down at the docks a bit," Athal suggested. "Sailors notice things. We may find out what we need."
"Oh, have it your way," Thalas replied, digging in to rubbery chicken and over-cooked vegetables.
After finshing their meals and collecting some key belongings, the group assembled later that night outside The Crimson Genie, a popular house of ill repute in the Dock District not far from the poer where the Blue Nixie was reported to be moored. Thalas had retrieved the remainder of his weapons, and though the polearm he preferred to carry stood well above his head when strapped to his back, it stood out relatively little amidst the stranger sights of the Docks District late at night.
Outside the Genie, a few scantily clad strumpets strolled, batting eyes at passers-by, and occasionally snaring a swaying sailor and guiding him up the steps inside to the common room, from which came all manner of cheers, songs, and sounds of bawdy activity.
Thalas was generally disgusted. Not at the activity; that was normal for all animals, particularly for humans who seemed to need to rut away the majority of their short lives. Human women were far too round in most features -- eyes, face, chest, hips -- and lacked the pleasing angularity possessed by elven women. Plus human women tended to be too hairy and possess terrible body odor.
The others arrived. Thalas nodded to Morderas, then pointed down the nearest dock. "Is that it?"
Moderas nodded. "It's moored about a hundred yards out off the end of the dock, tied to a piling. There are usually a couple of guards up on deck. You can just make out their torches from here."
Between the torches, the crescent moon, and their elven sight, four of the group could just make out the profile of a three-masted caravel riding genly on the swells in the middle of the harbor. Arjan, meanwhile, was playing with rats in the alleyway next to the genie.
"Hey nature boy," Thalas called. "I may be a master of the arcane, but I can't cure bubonic plague. Concentrate here."
Arjan reluctantly stopped his tete-a-tete with the local vermin and joined the group.
"I think I'm going to talk to some sailors," Athal declared. He started toward the Genie. "Who's with me?" Kyrsith, Arjan, and Morderas demurred, leaving Thalas to drop his glaive and follow Athal inside.
In the common room, a number of groups of sailors were drinking, throwing darts, and apparently testing the freshness of the ladies, much as a greengrocer might check his tomatoes for firmness. Athal and Thalas soon located a likely looking group of experienced sailors who weren't too intoxicated, and a few rounds of drinks loosened tongues. Athal gradually brought the conversation around to the ship at the end of the nearby dock.
"The Blue Fish-Thing?" the bosun of a whaler asked. "Aye, she's been moored there a fortnight or longer. Little activity; seems she's been put out to rot. No business, though we'd see strange lights out there some nights. Probably teenagers sneaking out nights to play around. Nothing out there to be concerened about. Doubt she's for hire."
Satisfied, Thalas flipped the man a silver and motioned for Athal to withdraw. They rejoined the others. "Happy now?" Thalas asked. "Shall we try my way?" Athal shrugged.
"My boat's this way," Morderas said, leading the way down the dockside into the darkness.
Morderas rowed the small dinghy out to a large piling in the center of the harbor a hundred yards beyond the piers. Tied to it by a thick rope was a large, three masted caravel, with torches burning at bow and stern. The ship was obviously in disrepair -- wood was warped and damged, ropes were strewn about rtaher than being neatly coiled, and the sails hung slack rather than being secured to the topmasts.
Morderas secured the dighy to the piling and began to clamber monkey-like up the mooring line to the port side of the ship. Thalas followed, with Athal, Arjan, and then Krystith behind. They crawled over the railing and on to the deck, quietly. Two guards stood on the main deck, one opposite facing out to sea, the other near the aft deckhouse, also looking away. Atop the forecastle to the left, another guard paced, and a fourth was atop the aft deckhouse. All four were armed and armored, but for the moment, not looking toward the group. An open trapdoor and a large grating were on either side of the mainmast in the center of the deck, and doors led fore and aft into the fore- and aft-castles of the ship.
"What now?" Morderas whispered. "Let's kill the guards."
"Guard the stairs," Thalas pointed to the steps up to the forecastle. "I have an idea."
He concentrated, reaching deep inside an grabbing the spark of magical energy he could feel deep in his gut. He'd always had difficulty with his formal magical studies; though he grasped the basics the actual execution continued to elude him no matter how much he studied. But he'd always had a knack for a few magical tricks, particularly when he had a weapon in his hand. His sword was sheathed and his bow and glaive were secured across his back, but the magic flowed anyway, blossoming as a glowing, human-like form that crawled over the aft rail of the ship onto the deck of the aftcastle.
The guards turned in surprise, moving aft, and Thalas lunged toward the near door to the forecastle cabin, motioning for the others to follow. He slid through the door, as the others quietly slipped in behind him without a hue and cry being raised from the deck. "No need for unnecessary killing," he whispered," but I hope there's another way out since that trick won't work twice."
They were in a small wardroom, unfurnished except for card table and some stores. Doors led to a small side cabin and what must be a larger forward cabin. Athal listen at the side door, reporting heavy snoring on the far side. Morderas listened at the forward cabin door, smirking: "Someone is having a lot of fun on the other side!" Sure enough, the sounds of noisy, sloppy lovemaking -- or at least a moaning female voice that approximated the same -- came from the far side of the door.
"Guard the doors," Thalas said, "We'll surprise them forward and see if they won't tell us where this ring is kept. Should save us some time." He drew Demonbane and readied himself to open the forward door as Morderas drew a short sword and prepared to slip inside. Athal and Kyrsith also drew weapons -- a longsowrd and wicked-looking falchion respectively. Arjan produced a spear from under his voluminous hides.
Thalas eased the door open quietly as Morderas slipped inside. Then suddenyl there was a creak as Morderas stepped on a loose board, followed by a cry of "You dogs!" and the sound of a wet sticky thump followed by a thud. Thalas leapt into the forward cabin, reaching inside for the insight of where his next blow would land.
Inside the room, Morderas stood atop a bed kicking the body of a half-naked woman from his short sword, while a disgusting fat man scrambled back into the corner waving a blade in front of him -- Silar Vark, from his appearance. The man wore a breastplate, but from the woman's appearance it was clear she was doing some sort of "entertaining".
"Up you fools! Intruders! Burn it all!" Vark shouted, and from the room of snores Thalas could hear fumbling as well as running footsteps from the deck outside. He channeled, a thin stream of blood running up his sword to tinge the blade red, and then he plunged the blade into Silar Varks chest.
The man slipped aside at the last second and so avoided impalement, but was still greviously wounded. "Yield!" Thalas growled, as he and Morderas continued to fence with Vark. Outside, the sound of weapons clashing was punctuated by thuds as bodies dropped to the deck. Finally, Thalas was able to connect with a second blow that sent Vark reeling. The man dropped his sword and whispered "Yield" as pink blood frothed to his lips.
"Watch him," Thalas commanded, and he spun on his heels and ran into the outer cabin.
Outside, Athal was guarding the door to the deck, fencing with two deck guards while the bodies of two more lay at his feet. Kyrsith was down, unconscious and bleeding as Arjan tried to bandage her wounds. The body of a sailor lay in the dorrway to the side cabin, as a wounded man stood reeling in the doorway. Athal danced back and forth, sword alive as he first struck and one man, then spun to strike another. Thalas dropped his sword and pulled his polearm free just as Athal dispatched another deck guard. The remaining guard spun on his heels and ran, with a large splash sounding a moment later. The wounded sailor dropped his blade and sank to his knees, crying "Mercy!"
Athal gowled: "Can you swim?" He opened a path to the deck, and the sailor bolted, a splash sounding a moment later.
Thalas retrieved his sword. "See to Kyrsith," he said, and headed back to the forward cabin. Vark still bled on his knees, as Morderas toore the cabin apart. "Find the ring?" Thalas asked. Morderas shook his head.
Thalas put the tip of his blade an inch from Vark's throat. "Tell us where the signet ring is, and we'll let you live," he threatened, though it took Morderas putting a boot to Vark's head before the man coughed: "In the headboard, secret compartment."
Morderas got to work, and soon secured a heavy gold ring that had a roll of parchment through it. He glanced at the parchment, then passed it to Thalas, who read:
Quote:
Chimera looks to sunrise,
Cyclops looks to sunset,
Meduse looks to sunrise,
Umber Hulk looks to sunset,
Basilisk looks to sunrise.
Bloody riddle, thought Thalas. The smell of smoke was beginning to waft up from the floorboards.
"Kyrsith's up," came Athal's voice from the outer cabin, "but they've fired the hold. We need to get moving to find the ring and the money."
"We've got the ring!" Thalas shouted back.
Morderas turned toward Vark. "We've got what we came for. Let's kill him and be going."
"No!" Thalas protested. "We can probably get a reward for turning him over to Lavinia. Besides, he yielded to me. We shouldn't kill him." But it was too late -- with one stroke, Morderas slit Vark's throat.
"We're not done with this," Thalas growled, as Morderas pushed past him.
In the outer cabin, Kyrsith was moving about, weakened but with wounds that were visibly healing up as time passed. Thalas couldn't take time to marvel at that as he followed Morderas out onto deck.
"Did you find the money?" Athal asked. Thalas shook his head, as did Morderas, though Kyrsith cocked her head at the lack of response. "Guess we'd better search below. If we can put the fire out, Lady Vanderboren may be in our debt." He rushed aft to the steps down to the hold, as Arjan and Thalas followed.
Kyrsith pulled Thalas aside. "I don't trust Morderas -- he's hiding something. I think he found the money," she told Thalas.
"Watch him," he replied, as he followed Athal down into the hold.
It was fairly dark below, but redish light could be seen coming through an open doorway to the main hold. A woman's scream could be heard from the main hold, which cut off suddenly. Athal came running back. "There's a spider-thing the size of a small horse in there," he panted as he slammed the door behind him. "It just sucked the brain out of some poor woman. There are cages and cages of animals in there, too -- parrots and monkeys and things. The fire is in a pile of rags. We could probably put it out, but left uncontrolled, it will burn the ship to the waterline. But I don't want to go face that spider thing!"
Thalas thought for a second as an idea came to him. He ran back up on deck, drawing his bow. Standing on the grate that opened on the main hold, he could see the profile of the spider-thing illuminated by the burning rags below him. He nocked, drew, and released, putting a shaft into the thing's hide. It squealed and scuttled out of sight.
Athal bounded up on deck, just as Kyrsith shouted a warning: "Morderas is running away!" Thalas turned just as Morderas began to clamber over the side of the ship. Kyrsith scooped up a crossbow from a dead guard and moved to the side of the ship, levelling it at Morderas. Thalas did likewise, calling up his magic from within, and drawing another arrow.
"I'll forgive you if you return, but if not, I'll put this shaft into your head!" he screamed at Morderas.
Just then Arjan came running up on deck. "It's loose!" he screamed in panic. The sound of talons scrabbling on the wood decking could be heard behind him, as the giant spider thing-pursued him up onto deck. Arjan leapt between the creature and the rest of the party, moving into a defensive stance. Thalas cursed, turned, and loosed his shaft and prepared magic at teh creature, striking it in the thorax. As he did so, he heard a splash from near the railing where Morderas had been.
Arjan, meanwhile, had thrown open the trapdoor to the hold, clambered down inside, and was freeing parrots from cages as quickly as he could move. Athal was dueling the beast, but woounded it was clearly no match for the elven warrior, as after a momebt of sparring he deftly put his blade through its mouth and out the back of what sufficed for a head, and the thing slumped to the deck, bubbling ichor.
Thalas paused long enough to look over the side of the ship. Morderas hadn't resurfaced, but Kyrsith had slid back down the mooring rope onto the piling, and was looking about. Morderas popped up from underwater at the edge of the piling to find the point of Kyrsith's falchion in his face.
"Going somewhere?" she asked with a wicked grin.
"I told you, we've got what we came for!" Morderas replied. "I've got the money. Let me up!"
"I think you can just tread water for a while," Kysith responded.
"Someone help me save the animals!" Arjan wailed from the hold.
Athal and Thalas were forced to cease their argument over whther they should bring the spider-thing's body to town for sale to go help Arjan put the fire out and rescue cages of parrot and monkeys.
Shame, Thalas thought. Those critters would bring quite a price to the right folks in Sasserine. But Athal's probably right; we'd have to answer too many hard questions dragging the body back through the merchant district.
They dumped the body of the mysterious and terrifying spider creature overboard.
Great journal! Keep it up.
You should know, though, that there's actually a place on the boards specifically for Campaign Journals ---> here.
DM comments
Obviously I tweaked a lot of things to make the party come together. Morderas is a NE half-drow who has his own motivations for getting involved with Lavinia's problems, so i decided to give his a little knowledge of the ship, to function as a kind of foil to get the beginning moving fast. And boy did it ever...
The encounter on the Blue Nixie is written as though the party is just supposed to waltz up, intimidate the thugs into getting on the ship, etc. I thought this was a bit corny and went for a different approach - that the ship was basically moored and falling apart as Soller and the boys held the ship hostage, all the while using its hold as a convenient hideaway for the animal smuggling operation.
With this approach, I figured what would happen is that Morderas would go stealth onto the ship first, maybe drop one of the guards, trigger the alarm, and then the PCs would have a rolling fight across the deck. But what wound up happening was everyone clambered on at once, made amazing move silently checks against the two guards who would have heard them - and then Thalas cast dancing lights to district them. They slipped away unnoticed to the left - right into Soller Vark's bedroom.
Adjusting this on the fly, I wanted the encounter to be realistic, yet i also wanted Soller to be in the condition where he'd fly at the PCs in a rage for sneaking onto the ship. So I had his lover putting on an, ahem, show for him when Morderas slipped into the room. Alas, the rogue botched his move silently check. I gave him one round of surprise, and he lunged onto Soller's lover and slew her with a savage thrust of his shortsword.
Great journal! Keep it up.
You should know, though, that there's actually a place on the boards specifically for Campaign Journals ---> here.
Ooops. Can a mod move this thread over?
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