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INTRODUCTION AND BACKGROUND: Hi all! My name is Richard Moore, and when I'm not slowly losing my grasp on my sanity from designing and editing new RPG material for Jon Brazer Enterprises or one of the other companies for whom I freelance, I like to actually play RPGs, too! I also post on these forums under the name Power Word Unzip, and my campaign journals for Razor Coast got a fair amount of attention from the creators of that campaign and other GMs running the same mega-adventure. I've now decided to switch from the PWU moniker to using my real-name for my upcoming accounts of running Savage Tide.
I'll be starting a new campaign journal thread here for ongoing play reports from my current campaign, which is now branching out into the latter half of Paizo's Savage Tide, but will also use many of the maps, locations, and NPCs from Frog God Games' Razor Coast. I began running a seafaring campaign for my home group every Thursday back in July of 2013, and after a 15-month hiatus starting in February 2014 to play some other games, we resumed this campaign in May of 2015.
RESOURCES: To date, this campaign has utilized the following adventures and resources (not including the core Pathfinder RPG hardback line). (NOTE: Although we briefly dipped into the rules from Mythic Adventures for a portion of the campaign, it quickly became evident that they were just too overpowered and difficult for both players and GM to keep up with, so we dropped all usage of mythic rules shortly after beginning "The Krakenfiend Rises". The rest of the campaign will be vanilla Pathfinder.)
Adventures
The Wormwood Mutiny: We began our campaign by running this adventure, giving the PCs a chance to scramble up the ranks of a pirate crew and acquire their own ship.
Razor Coast: The meat of our first story arc, which utilized both of the main plotlines from Nicolas Logue's piratical masterpiece--"Night of the Shark" and "The Krakenfiend Rises".
Heart of the Razor: I ran "The Black Spot" as an interlude in the early stretch of Razor Coast's "Night of the Shark", injecting a dose of warped sci-fi action into the mix.
Bloody Jack's Gold: This D&D 3.5-compatible adventure from Goodman Games offered some great aquatic encounter set pieces and a dungeon-crawling diversion early on during "The Krakenfiend Rises".
Call of the Frog God: A Kickstarter-exclusive supplemental adventure for Razor Coast, the third act of this module features a fight with a pirate gang transformed into cthonic horrors deep within the belly of a great whale. Note that this adventure module is NOT available for purchase anywhere except perhaps on the secondary market, hence the lack of a product link.
Monster-Building Resources
Advanced Bestiary: A highly useful supplement for strengthening stock monsters or creating new ones. My smoke wendigo was created using these rules.
Book of Heroic Races - Advanced Merfolk: I pulled an NPC from this book, the sea-witch Orsolya, to replace the main villain in Bloody Jack's Gold.
Monster Menagerie - Oceans of Blood: This bestiary offers several interesting new monsters for seafaring campaigns, particularly the toothwraith, which I used to great effect in the finale of "The Krakenfiend Rises".
THE STORY SO FAR: Most of my campaign up until this point has been documented in the product discussion thread for Razor Coast. Links to specific posts containing accounts of those sessions follow.
1. A session bridging The Wormwood Mutiny to Razor Coast.
2. A foray into the sewers of Port Shaw.
3. The PCs are nearly hanged for piracy and escape to the Razor Sea.
4. The PCs investigate a virulent strain of lycanthropy, fight sahuagin on the Razor Sea, and spot a mysterious shipwreck...
5. First session write-up for "The Black Spot".
6. Second session write-up for "The Black Spot".
7. A raid on a slaver's hideout turns the party members against one another...
8. A Dragoon boarding party further inflames party in-fighting, and some new PCs are introduced.
9. The PCs raid the Dragoons' fortress, then flee to a faraway island to recruit new allies among the Tulita.
10. To win the allegiance of the Tulita, the PCs take on a fiendish threat that festers on the island of Kakeou, winning the favor of their deities in the process.
11. The PCs clear Beacon Island of monsters and prepare to defend Port Shaw against a slew of wereshark invaders.
12. We wrap up "Night of the Shark" before our long hiatus.
13. Part 1 of my summary of "The Krakenfiend Rises" (including our run-through of Bloody Jack's Gold and a quick dip into Journey's End from The Sea Wyvern's Wake), a location nearly identical to Razor Coast's Skull Sargasso that flowed well into the overall storyline).
14. Part 2 of my summary of "The Krakenfiend Rises" (including material from Call of the Frog God).
Our first session for Savage Tide will take place on Thursday, October 8th, 2015, when we'll begin City of Broken Idols. Stay tuned for more campaign journals!
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Our Savage Tide campaign has begun! My fiend Charlie Bell has been kind enough to give me access to his conversion notes for Dungeon #146-#150, and as thanks for his efforts, I'm converting the contents of #145 for him to add to his repository. In addition to the straight, faithful conversions, a few of my builds include alternate advancements that are considerably tougher than those presented in the module--my group is 15th level, so some of these monsters have to be beefed up to offer a proper challenge!
City of Broken Idols began with some changes in our character line-up, and the establishment of a new order in the PCs' home city of Port Shaw after the violent uprising that took place in the finale of "The Krakenfiend Rises".
Our standing party now includes:
- Flynnerrol, half-elf rogue 11/shadowdancer 4: A dangerous privateer and master fencer who served in the Port Shaw resistance movement. He has just begun a romantic affair with Bethany Razor, who takes the place of Lavinia Vanderboren in my Savage Tide campaign.
- Varis, half-elf bloodrager (celestial bloodline) 15: The newest member of the party, a stalwart and honorable follower of the sea god Xarn (a good-aligned deity in my homebrew who took the place of Quell in Razor Coast).
- Dezun, elf oracle (life mystery, ancient lorekeeper archetype) 15: Also a newcomer who joined the group near the finale of "The Krakenfiend Rises", the aging Dezun heeds the call of Kiana, the goddess of magic in my homebrew, using his powers to strike down those who would threaten peace and civilization.
- Hokan Ali'i, human monk (hungry ghost archetype) 15: The legendary ruler of the indigenous Tulita people of the Razor Coast, Hokan is one of the primary orchestrators of the resistance movement that overthrew the Dragoons of Port Shaw in our previous campaign arc. Although his fighting style taps into a dark power that causes unease in his allies, his honor has been unimpugnable to date.
In Port Shaw, a few weeks after the destruction of Harthagoa the Krakenfiend and his aristocratic ring of cultists, Varis brought word from his superiors in the Church of Xarn that a missionary from the Order of Coll (a god who mirrors Pelor's role in the Savage Tide material) named Noltus Innersol sent a missive beseeching the church for assistance in purging the Isle of Dread of the foul beings who exterminated the village of Mantru. The PCs had already gathered information suggesting that the Isle of Dread was the source of the shadow pearls that the Ring of the Kraken had been buying with slaves and stolen gold, empowering with Tulita sacrifices, and using to sow chaos near Port Shaw, so the letter from Noltus was merely one more impetus for investigating the Isle of Dread.
Upon arriving at the lizardfolk camp, they quickly made friendly contact with Rissashtak, who offered them a feast. The false Noltus and his demonic allies arrived at the camp shortly after sundown, and Dezun immediately scanned the group with a detect evil spell, but neglected to warn his allies, concerned that perhaps their proximity to an area of demonic confluence was the explanation for the auras he detected. Soon thereafter, though, the false Noltus revealed himself near the cookfires once his pets had positioned themselves to strike at Varis and Hokan and he had milked information out of the PCs. The fight was not particularly challenging--they're two levels higher than the recommended starting point for City of Broken Idols, so even adding an extra julajimus here didn't impact the difficulty curve too much--but it gave the new PCs a chance to break in their abilities and learn about one another's capabilities.
Despite being badly wounded, Rissashtak survived the combat and insisted on accompanying the PCs to Mantru. They agreed to let him guide them there but Dezun used Diplomacy (a check result of 47!) to convince the lizardfolk chieftain that the danger was too great and his place was with his own people, where he could defend his tribe and do the work of Coll, as his departed friend Noltus would have wanted.
In Mantru, the PCs solved the couatl's riddle in two guesses, gleaned some information about the demons and kopru of the Taboo Island from Umlat's spirit, and learned of a great treasure left behind by the tribal gods of the Olmans beneath the central plateau's pyramids. They took a canoe from the village and began rowing toward the island, but no one noticed the massive deinosuchus rising up from the depths to capsize their boat...
More to come next week!
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My fiend Charlie Bell
Heh, Freudian typo is Freudian. =D
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Ack, I've had so little time to write recently... so here's a three-session dump!
It's that classic love story at first: PCs kill deinosuchus in three rounds. PCs land boat in central southern region of island. PCs exterminate skinwalkers during a foul orgy of ritual sacrifice to a Demogorgon statue. PCs then decide to actually use skills instead of murder-hoboing around the place, rolling Survival checks to determine that skinwalkers are migrating west and there are big-as-eff-all pyramids all over the island.
So they reach the westernmost grand pyramid and check out the summit (I left the entrance to Golismorga unmentioned--no need to lead them down that bunny trail considering their advanced level). While they're admiring the artful blood spatter, Throgiff comes up behind them and asks what they are doing there. Diplomacy commences, after a fashion, and the PCs ask him what his deal is. (Varis is NOT happy about parleying with a tiefling.)
Throgiff is like, "Yeah bro, we're totes making these giant magical black pearls for some reason, lots of money involved, pay is decent, but gods am I bored here and I really don't want a quarrel with you lot. Heck, if you'll pay me, say, 20,000 gp, I'll show you the way in and be on my way. We cool?" And the PCs are like, "Yeah, we cool, and we're filthy rich, so here's some gems and some ingots," although Dezun decides to keep an eye on the tiefling and ready a counterspell if he tries to cast anything. Sure enough, once they've paid him and he's shown them the entrance, he starts casting a dimension door spell, which Dezun counters, saying, "Yo, what's the hurry bro? U mad?" Throgiff's like, "Yeah, well, I kinda figured you had a boat so I was totes gonna steal it." They're like, "Not cool bro," and he's like, "C'mon, three quarters of y'all can fly, cut a brother some slack." They agree, but Dezun hits Throgiff with a dimensional anchor on principle and tells him to enjoy the walk to the canoe.
So they enter through the eastern double doors and eat spears from the trap in the hallway, roll Knowledge (dungeoneering) to figure out the quickest way down, breeze past the foul-smelling chamber to the north and the interesting archaeological stuff to the south, and beeline for the secret stairs in the center of the first floor. They hack the hezrou demons in the Chamber of the Great One to bits, and Hokan's Tulita cohort, the slayer Slark, scouts ahead, narrowly missing alerting the ochre jelly, completely disregarding the lovely room of golemy, portcullisy death (much to my chagrin), and spotting the flush trap that would have dumped them into the boiling water pit. Now it's down to level three.
They spot the kopru having spa time in the hot mud baths and try to strike up a conversation about the holistic benefits of the minerals in this cavern, but the kopru don't much care to discuss alternative medicine with puny pinkskins. A fight ensues; Varis gets smote in the face a lot, but Dezun's shield ally spell and quick channels soak a lot of that damage (I've never seen an oracle indirectly tank damage before). Hokan gets grappled and dragged down into boiling hot mud, but Dezun slapped him with resist energy earlier so it's more like a body treatment for the monk. This is a long fight, and kind of tough, but not deadly. (All my taboo temple kopru were advanced to CR 15, btw--I took the baseline fiendish kopru from CoBI, updated them to PF standards, and then added four levels of fighter with combat stamina points from Unchained, making them Greater Bull Rush specialists.)
After very cautiously relieving the Olman corpse in the northwestern alcove of its sun sword and ring of telekinesis, they head west through the skull depository and alchemical lab into Khala's shrine. Khala has heard the commotion in the mud caverns and already called up his kopru bros from the south and cast a bunch of buffs, and the PCs spot a few skulvyn sloshing around in the water. This fight is a nasty one--15+ rounds of combat, starting with Khala summoning a retriever which Dezun immediately banishes, people getting bull rushed and telekinetically thrown into the skulvyn pond, and Khala just generally wrecking stuff with his gaze attacks and his rotting tentacles. When things get dire he swaps spots with Xerkamat, who projects an image through which to cast quickened greater dispel magic, and that ruse keeps them nervous for a few rounds until Flynn goes in for a sneak attack and disbelieves the illusion. So they focus fire on the wastrilith and he's out in a few rounds. Wiping out the rest of the kopru and skulvyns isn't a huge challenge after that, but their resources are severely drained (Dezun is like, "Yeah, so I think I have some 3rd-level and lower spells left still..."). They destroy the alchemical ingredients in the lab, retrieve Noltus' lost gear, and, like you do, decide to camp in the shrine of the demonic aspect they know they haven't killed yet. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Khala, of course, waits until they are complacent and starts dropping mad unholy blights on their campsite in area 50, so they say "Eff this" and Dezun word of recalls them back to Port Shaw. They rest up, sell off some treasure, and teleport back in about 12 hours, returning to the eastern entrance. As soon as they walk in, three skinwalker acolytes drop fireballs on them, which does considerable damage to Varis and Dezun (Flynn and Hokan have evasion, so they aren't fazed). Chief Achcauhtli is also there, along with the last three kopru from the oyster pond, and they are blocking the exits to the west and south, the casters using the kopru as meat shields to cast offensive spells from behind. It's at this point that I realize that Hokan and Varis now effectively ignore stoneskin DR, which negates some of the enemies' defenses--but not their displacement spells, lololololol. The enemies are deliberately trying to corral the players to the north toward the flesh jelly, which eventually wakes up and crawls out of its pit to see what's for dinner. As it turns out, the answer is Flynn. I dislike the save-or-die effect on the flesh jelly, though, so I just give Flynn a heap of acid damage when he gets absorbed. This combat runs about 10 rounds or so, a good resource drain but not a catastrophic one. Hokan wrecked the chief, so they have his gear, and the kopru got blinded, hamstrung, and murdered, so the only reinforcements left in the temple are the trio of skinwalker acolytes, who have retreated to the lower levels to help Khala defend the oyster pond.
They head south and find the puzzle room with the three Olman gods. Varis figures out the puzzle, but Flynn claims the bow (discovering in the process that somewhere in his mongrel half-elven lineage, Olman blood intermingled with his forebears, which is why the Three chose him to be the bearer of the nimbus bow). They also check out the crypt but wisely decide not to disturb the gold-festooned remains, instead electing to trigger a cave-in to seal off the honored dead from further intruders. (Meanwhile, my dread wraith miniatures sigh sadly in their game drawer space and decide to have a tea party with the Aspect of Tiamat to console themselves.) Then the party heads back to the stairs leading down to level two, which is where we left off.
So Khala is still around, but he's got 6 negative levels for another 11 hours or so, which is going to be a major problem for him. The acolytes have a lot of spells left, but most of them aren't going to be too much help--3 PCs constantly have shield spells on, so magic missiles don't work, and stoneskin ain't giving them any protection against the beaters in the group.
We should wrap up this chapter next week, and then it's on to Richard Pett's Serpents of Scuttlecove, which I'll be staging in Carcass, Nick Logue's festering sinkhole of piracy from Razor Coast!
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Khala and his cadre of skinwalkers did not prevail, although the demon aspect didn't go down without a fight. In fact, after several rounds of combat he remained mostly unharmed and unthreatened--until Hokan used his quivering palm for the very first time. Of course, the demon got to monologue as an immediate action before he died, telling the PCs that their mission is fruitless and the shadow pearls have now flooded into every port in the world.
The heroes surveyed the evidence and quickly realized that they let go the one person who might have been able to point them toward the destination of the pearls: Throgiff, the tiefling. They contacted him via sending, offering more money if he could help them track down the pearls, and he agreed to meet them at a watering hole in the Pearl Eye Atolls. After a brusque and frank series of negotiations, Throgiff revealed that the shadow pearl operation was shipping their deadly goods through the city of Carcass (my substitute for Scuttlecove, although I kept the name Sekorvia for the island), and he and the party reached a deal: he would serve as their guide to Carcass and help them track down the Scarlet Brotherhood (Crimson Fleet) in exchange for his choice of one ship's bellyful of treasure from the pirates' holdings.
Flynn headed down to the docks while barhopping later that night and noticed a crew of scalawags bartering over scavenged goods from the ship of one of his recent lovers, Bethany Razor (a Razor Coast NPC who takes the place of Lavinia in Savage Tide). He grabbed Dezun and Varis and they decided to have a closer look. The pirates said that Bethany's ship was scuttled by an unknown pirate gang and they got the spoils. The PCs try a sending to check in on her and get a distressed return message saying that she was taken by Gregory Bonedeuce (an established villain from Razor Coast who is my stand-in for Vanthus Vanderboren) and is being held captive on his flagship in Carcass. They decide to head that way at first light.
To make matters worse, Hokan is visited in a dream by Falken Drango (likewise a Razor Coast pirate NPC with whom they have an established relationship, who usurps Harliss Javell's role in Serpents of Scuttlecove). Drango says he's in trouble in Carcass--he came there seeking the pirate lords who sold him out to the Dragoons a few years ago for some payback and now he's stuck. He says to meet him at Red Foam Whaling inside the derelict city, and confirms that Bonedeuce is still alive... somehow.
Skip past the fluff for the next journal entry!
MY ALTERNATE BACKGROUND FLUFF THAT MERGES CARCASS AND SCUTTLECOVE:
The group of ur-priests who styled themselves the Holy Triad wrought their home on Sekorvia, now known along the Razor Coast as Carcass, from stolen power. They took motes of the divine spark and the unholy flame from not just gods, but demon lords, archdevils, and eldritch horrors alike. The Triad also brokered deals with the most savvy cutthroat pirate captains ever to sail the Gem Sea: in exchange for goods and tribute to keep their flotsam empire afloat, the Triad offered these captains a safe harbor and turned their wrath on sea patrols who came too close to Sekorvia.
The Triad's rule might have persisted unchecked had they not crossed a particularly vengeful group of kyton who tired of the piecemeal theft of souls and shadows from the blasphemous conduits that directed their own power. The kyton enacted revenge by enslaving and enlightening the most dreaded pirate on the Razor, even more ruthless than Garr Bloodbane: Galgros Sloth-Eye. Twisted by the horrible revelations the kyton wrought upon his mind and his flesh, Captain Sloth-Eye left a wake of blood and terror on his return to Sekorvia, accompanied by an infernal squall that capsized boats and killed the wretched citizens of the Triad's island by the score. Galgros ordered his crew to slay the Holy Triad, seizing the dweomer crystals they used to control the mindless Cthonian horror which held together the mad collection of derelict ships surrounding Sekorvia.
Soon thereafter, a host of Abyssal agents settled upon the wrecks of Carcass, press-ganging the local mortals into servitude and assuming control of the criminal syndicates which the Triad had once ruled. The kyton consented to their presence, finding the demonic entities a perfect addition to the festering shanty-city's decadence. The kyton kept their foothold in Carcass through control of the crystals, making it clear to the demons that they would not hesitate to rend every one of their pet operations with the might of the tentacled horror that was Sekorvia's bedrock if the Abyssal host threatened their own interests. An uneasy truce has persisted for quite some time now, and Galgros Sloth-Eye has even aided the servants of Demogorgon in their quest to reshape the world into a spiritual battery for their master's ascendancy to the highest throne in the Abyss. Some whisper that the kyton have much to gain once the Prince of Demons becomes a King, but the details of their deal with him remain foggy.
In this variant setting mashup of Carcass and Scuttlecove, the kyton of Sekorvia take the place of the Monks of Dire Hunger, although their methods and goals remain much the same. Likewise, Cold Captain Wyther is replaced by Galgros Sloth-Eye as leader of the Scarlet Brotherhood (I renamed the Crimson Fleet since the PCs already seem to associate the Brotherhood with a sinister, shadowy organization of pirates due to the map notes on the Isle of Dread). The Morninghawks of Port Shaw (a resistance group which the PCs and their predecessors earlier in this campaign helped found) replace the Protectorate. Porphyry House, the Seventh Coil, and the Dealers' Consortium remain more or less unchanged.
END BACKGROUND FLUFF
A few hats of disguise later, they moor their ship on a small island off Sekorvia and head to Red Foam Whaling. Along the way, they get a front row seat to some disciplining of the local dock workers by the kyton Dire Hunger monks and see the barl'gura press-gangers snatching up slaves from boulevards established on the wreckage of abandoned galleons. Things at Red Foam start off BAD--the Leech sees Dezun try to heal the succubus disguised as Falken Drango and decides to drop the oracle right off the bat, putting him solidly in negative hit points before his first initiative count. This fight goes quick once the PCs get their footing, though--a fun five- or six-rounder to kick off the adventure. They're also horrified by the Leech's flesh totem, although they don't identify it as a Demogorgon shrine, and they find Drango's lost gear, along with the letter for Tyralandi that points them to Porphyry House.
More to come...
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At Porphyry House, Flynn takes the lead and tries to bluff them in as associates of Zimon, who wrote the referral letter for Drango. He asks for a meeting with Tyralandi; the concubines explain that a meeting with the mistress is by appointment only. Flynn pushes the issue, adding more obvious lies on top of his previous deceptions, so the attendant alerts Tyralandi to their presence and the nymph decides to make a show of her power with lots of flame magic and dimension dooring to discourage violence in her business, and calls them out on their deception. Hokan tires of the charade and comes clean, telling Tyralandi why they're really here and asking about Falken Drango's whereabouts.
The nymph invites them upstairs to her office to discuss matters in private where eavesdroppers are less likely. They accept and the nymph offers to give them Drango's whereabouts in exchange for a lock of Dezun's hair. He refuses at fist, but she explains what she wants with it ("You're past your prime now, elf, but in your youth you were no doubt an exquisitely fetching lad, and I have customers who'd pay direly for that experience--and once your clone ages, he will service me personally...") in hopes of allaying his concerns about her trying to exert control over him via magic. Dezun agrees to give her the hair, but only if she'll sign a contract affirming to only use it for the use of making clones. Tyralandi agrees, calling up an imp (Grishnaz, their old nemesis from Bloody Jack's Gold) to scratch up a quick agreement and paying the miniscule devil for his services with a jar of silvery mist she has in her desk (which a few party members realize is the late Zimon's soul).
Informed of Drango's whereabouts and gifted with a few oils of silence by her new ally, the PCs head to the Birdcage and try to bluff their way in. The mindless slave insists they can't enter but offers to book them an appointment tomorrow. They decide to check the book and see who the next appointment is (Hmm, it happens to be Gregory Bonedeuce... how convenient), then step out, change their disguises, and return, with Flynn claiming to be Bonedeuce ("Oh, and I prefer the pronunciation 'Bonna-DOOSH', actually..."). Of course, the Sisters of Lamentation know they're lying and attack, but they're hardly a match for the PCs at this level.
As they are dispatching the Little Goule and freeing Drango from the cage, Bonedeuce enters for his appointment, and all hell literally breaks loose. The now-undead ex-Dragoon gets in two vicious strikes on Hokan and lets loose an abyssal blast that brings down the Birdcage on their heads before retreating into the derelict shipdeck boulevards of Carcass, jumping onto a nearby schooner and tossing a red gem to the ground which summons a pair of orlath demons to cover his escape.
TO BE CONTINUED... but before I go, here's my custom stat block for Falken Drango, who I wanted to be considerably more powerful than presented in Razor Coast, but also a greater liability in the spirit of his obvious inspiration, Captain Jack Sparrow.
Falken Drango
“Me? I'm dishonest, and a dishonest man you can always trust to be dishonest. Honestly, it's the honest ones you want to watch out for, because you can never predict when they're going to do something incredibly stupid.”
Falken Drango CR 17
XP 102,400
Fortune-spurned male human fighter 2/rogue 9/deep sea pirate 6
CN Medium humanoid (chaotic, human)
Init +7; Senses Perception +19 (+21 at sea)
Aura misfortune 10 ft.
Defense
AC 23, touch 14, flat-footed 19 (+6 armor, +1 dodge, +3 Dex, +3 natural; +4 vs. attacks of opportunity provoked by movement)
hp 122 (15d8+30 plus 2d10+4)
Fort +10, Ref +12, Will +8; +5 vs. fear
Defensive Abilities bravery +1, evasion, improved uncanny dodge, trap sense +3; Immune intimidation effects
Offense
Speed 30 ft.
Melee +3 cutlass +19/+14/+9 (1d6+6/15-20)
Ranged broken pepperbox +13/+8/+3 (1d8/x4, misfire 1-6)
Special Attacks calamitous mishap 1/minute, sneak attack +7d6
Statistics
Str 16, Dex 16, Con 14, Int 14, Wis 16, Cha 20
Base Atk +12; CMB +11; CMD 23
Feats Dodge, Dreadful Gaze*, Exotic Weapon Proficiency (firearms), Great Fortitude, Improved Critical (cutlass), Improved Initiative, Iron Will, Lightning Reflexes, Mobility, Piratical Nerve*, Seaworthy*, Weapon Focus (cutlass)
Skills Acrobatics +15 (+17 at sea), Appraise +12, Bluff +21, Climb +16, Diplomacy +21, Disguise +21, Escape Artist +18, Intimidate +21, Perception +19, Profession (sailor) +17, Sense Motive +19, Swim +19
Languages Aquan, Common, Elven
SQ pirate tricks (classic duelist, drink for free [6 taverns], fearsome advance, storm sailor), rogue talents (bleeding attack +5, ledge walker, resiliency [9 temp hp], surprise attack), trapfinding +4
Gear +3 cutlass, broken pepperbox, 30 rounds of shot and powder, amulet of natural armor +3, bracers of armor +6, masterwork thieves' tools
Special Abilities
Aura of Misfortune (Su) Every creature within 10 feet of the fortune-spurned creature gains the diminished criticals and unlucky strike special qualities of the fortune-spurned template as long as they remain within range of each other. Furthermore, the affected creature takes a –4 penalty on all checks and saving throws.
Calamitous Mishap (Su) As a swift action, once per minute, the fortune-spurned creature can cause some calamity to befall itself and another creature within 5 feet of it. The mishap selected must be a possible result of normal circumstances, but it can be the worst possible result. For instance, lightning could strike both the fortune-spurned creature and its foe on a cloudy day, or it could strike a tree, causing a heavy limb to fall on both targets, but lightning could not strike out of a clear sky. In some cases, the fortune-spurned creature might be unable to cause any calamity given its surroundings. A calamity cannot affect more than the fortune-spurned creature and a single adjacent creature of its choice.
Cursed (Ex) A fortune-spurned creature takes a –2 luck penalty on all opposed checks and saves, and a –1 luck penalty on all attack rolls.
Diminished Criticals (Su) A fortune-spurned creature must roll twice to confirm a critical hit.
Twist of Fate (Su) The first time in any given day that a fortune-spurned creature rolls a natural 20 on a saving throw, it fails the save.
Unlucky Strike (Su) When a fortune-spurned creature attacks with a weapon and rolls a natural 1, it provokes an attack of opportunity for its target, even if that creature would not otherwise be entitled to make one. If the fortune-spurned creature is wielding a manufactured weapon, it drops it and needs to take a standard action to pick the weapon back up. This provokes another free attack of opportunity from its target.
* NEW FEATS (from Razor Coast):
Dreadful Gaze
Prerequisites: Intimidate 3 ranks, Profession (sailor) 3 ranks, Iron Will, Piratical Nerve.
Benefit: As a swift action you may make an Intimidate check to demoralize all foes within 30 feet.
Piratical Nerve
Prerequisites: Profession (sailor) 3 ranks, Iron Will. In addition, you must have faced near-certain death at the hands of the sea (either an aquatic monstrosity, a storm of epic proportions, or a similar calamity).
Benefit: You gain a +4 to Will saves against mind-affecting fear effects. In addition, you cannot be coerced or shaken through the use of the Intimidate skill under any circumstances.
Seaworthy
Benefit: You gain a +2 competence bonus to all Profession (sailor) checks. In addition you gain a +2 circumstance bonus to all Acrobatics checks made to balance while aboard a seafaring vessel of any kind, and a +2 circumstance bonus to all vision-based Perception checks made at sea.
(Yikes, it's been forever since I got on here to update this journal--we've still been playing, but I haven't had time to write!)
The Carcass/Scuttlecove mashup continues! After defeating the orlaths, the heroes question Drango about the situation inside the city. He explains that he came to get his revenge on Galgros Sloth-Eye and the Scarlet Brotherhood for betraying him to Bonedeuce, only to find out that the former Dragoon commandant was somehow resurrected (though still horribly disfigured by his final duel with the now-deceased Zydrunas--as the PCs saw during their brief encounter with Bonedeuce, half his face is melted off from a direct hit with a prismatic spray). Apparently Bonedeuce is now above Galgros in the pecking order, and the hidden pirate base seems impossible to locate. Bonedeuce surmises that there may be some rogue elements inside the city that could help the PCs find Galgros' hideout, and suggests they begin their search at the Violated Ogre.
The heroes head to the Ogre, and Varis fights every instinct in his body not to slaughter the clientele wholesale. They make contact with a group of humanoids who don't quite fit in, one of whom bears a tattoo of the Morninghawk, a symbol of Port Shaw's freedom fighters, and after convincing them that they are no friends of the demons who run Carcass, are invited back to the Morninghawks' base. There, they receive intelligence that points them toward the Brotherhood's secret cove northwest of the city.
Making haste to the Cove, they infiltrate the pirate base swiftly, nearly indetectable thanks to invisibility, fly, and air walk spells. They find Bonedeuce's quarters and the note left behind by Bethany Razor, then decide to have a chat with Galgros Sloth-Eye, who's in conference with his orlath overseer, Ziovayne. Galgros makes it known that he isn't happy with Bonedeuce's sudden promotion above him in the Cult of Demogorgon, and Dezun manages to convince Galgros to turn against Ziovayne. With the orlath anchored and slain, she can't report the treachery to her master, and the PCs agree to destroy Bonedeuce in exchange for any information Galgros can offer in pinpointing Bethany's whereabouts. Galgros offers them his wakeportal and demands that they return to him with proof of Bonedeuce's demise inside of a fortnight.
The heroes return to update the Morninghawks on their plan, and the rebel leader, a massive Tulita man, becomes very angry with them for cutting a deal with Galgros. He had hoped to recruit their help in killing Galgros and the other demonic leaders of Carcass in order to free the tormented slaves under their rule. Hokan silences the man with a blistering explanation of the stakes in the game should Demogorgon's plot to unleash the Savage Tide succeed; the others promise to return and help liberate the slaves of Carcass once the safety of the Multiverse is assured.
The heroes offer full disclosure to their mortal crewmen aboard the Loa's Blessing about where their journeys will take them if they stay on, and retain enough volunteers to crew the ship into the Abyss (including, to their dismay, the dismally unlucky Falken Drango, of whom they can't seem to rid themselves). The wakeportal drops them into Gaping Maw, where they do some shopping and information brokering with the mercane before sailing off to Divided's Ire.
They decide to drop anchor on the eastern end of the island and fly over to the southern bridge to begin their assault on the prison (having observed that the vrock patrols departing the southwestern quarter do not approach the door into the southeastern quarter). There they meet the crazed angels and decide to leave them be for now after obtaining information about their mysterious isolated master, Saureya, and a few of the other inhabitants of the prison. From here, they traverse the central bridge heading northward.
After disposing of Belshamoth in the northwestern quarter of the prison, they stumble right into Lillianth, and bluff her into bargaining for Bonedeuce's destruction. Of course, once she reveals the death knight's location, they turn on her, and a massive fight ensues with the marilith, her hezrou minions, and the assassin Jariaxer on one side and the PCs, Drango, and a comely gnome bard (Lynnara) on the other. The battle is not an easy one, but they emerge unscathed, freeing Bethany from the lava cages and pushing forward toward Bonedeuce's sanctuary.
On the bridge, a massive swarm of dread wraiths and nabassu descend upon the PCs, draining their lifeforce mercilessly--until Varis draws the sun blade he acquired back on the Isle of Dread to war them off. Incensed by the neutralization of his advance squad, Bonedeuce emerges from his sanctum and flies up to meet Hokan, Flynn, Bethany, and Drango in battle as Dezun and Varis continue to hold the horde of wraiths and demons at bay.
The fight is quick and brutal, and at its conclusion, Gregory Bonedeuce is conclusively destroyed once and for all, ending his reign of terror over the denizens of the Razor Coast. Lynnara tells the PCs that a denizen of the southwestern quarter, the bullywug lich Orgosh, may be able to help them end Demogorgon's reign. Sure enough, as Bonedeuce's accursed body burns to ash, the swarm of wraiths flock to a parapet above the prison at Orgosh's command, now freed from the death knight's control. The lich offers them sanctuary within the walls of his compound and tells them of Shami-Amourae's imprisonment in the Wells of Darkness; Lynnara knows the lay of Pazunia well and offers to lead them there.
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At the Wells of Darkness, the players consult with Lynnara and use their considerable Knowledge rolls to deduce that the best way to free Shami-Amourae is to appeal directly to Ahazu. After a skirmish with a flock of nightwings, they penetrate the Seizer's fortress and destroy the Keeper-Liches. Ahazu is amused by Varis' straightforwardness as he reaches into the well, and after a monstrous Diplomacy roll by Dezun the demon agrees to a deal: Demogorgon in exchange for Shami-Amourae, deliverable within 66 days.
Back at Shami-Amourae's well, the PCs come up against three Wardens of the Well (advanced retrievers of considerable power--kudos to Charlie Bell for a GREAT rebuild of these monsters) and their bar'lgura riders. The group manages to avoid the torrent of Styxian water released by Demogorgon's contingency; the monk and bloodrager leap from machine to machine, maiming riders and pulling circuitry out of the demonic contraptions, as the oracle provides healing and blasts the retrievers with spells; the rogue takes opportunistic pot shots at bar'lgura as his teammates jump between the titanic sentinels. When the bloodshed subsides, Lynnara reveals herself to her sister, Shami-Amourae, and the powerful succubus lets slip more information about Demogorgon's weaknesses, recommending that they seek out Iggwilv deeper in the Abyss. (The sisters also let slip that one of their siblingsis Lady Rosalind, a.k.a. Milady Ro, a prominent madame and mercenary leader who the PCs recruited to help defeat the Dragoons in Port Shaw, giving her a council seat in exchange for her assistance.)
Charon arrives shortly thereafter. Once convinced that the heroes were not responsible for redirecting his river, and discussing the matter of them having slain one of his most loyal cultists on the Material Plane (WAAAAAY back in their first session, when a shadow pearl was set off beneath Port Shaw), he assents to aid them in reaching Iggwilv.
After fighting their way past the Stygian linnorms guarding the Witch Queen's castle, they find themselves the object of her arcanaloth apprentices' games for a bit before Iggwilv herself welcomes them into her inner sanctum and lays out her plan. The PCs refuse to leave the terms of her aid vague, and finally coerce her into admitting that she wants something of Malcanthet's, something she is fairly certain the Succubus Queen will offer freely if they can persuade her to join the fight against Demogorgon.
They waste no time in reaching out to potential allies, beginning with Morwel and her Court of Stars on Arborea. There, Varis bests the haughty Sir Andros in a wrestling match, and the group re-encounters a lost member of their party: Zydrunas, once apprentice to Aeron Chambers, and now a high-ranking petitioner in service to Morwel. The eladrin queen commands them to seek out and destroy the great linnorm Redfang, a task they perform with no small sense of relish. This act secures the loyalty of Gwynydd (a renamed Gwynharwyf) and her Tourbillon Gale legion of eladrin warriors.
Their first sojourn into Thanatos proves a difficult one, as the heroes quickly realize that the negative energy permeating this layer of the Abyss will kill them if they do not seek out a better means of protection, so they proceed to a different objective instead. The heroes march into General Bagromar's camp, where the balor Dingoslag makes a clumsy attempt to catch them off-guard. The balor's gambit does not pay off, and Varis decides to carry Dingoslag's head with him as a deterrent against future such incidents. Bagromar is swayed by Dezun's silver tongue and agrees to distract his twin, Tetradarian, during the assault on Wat Dagon. Additionally, their displays of might and cunning in the camp convince an ambitious quasit to offer them trinkets which will protect them from the harsh environment of Thanatos so that they can beg the Demon Lord Orcus for his allegiance.
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In Thanatos, the PCs moor their ship near the Valley of the Crypt Things and journey through a vast tunnel of undead sentries. Their observance of etiquette in this eerie place steers them unscathed through the pass to Oblivion's End and Everlost. Some vampire courtiers object to their cutting in line; Varis shows them Dingoslag's head; they suddenly recall that they have more important matters to worry about than who was here first.
Iggwilv's letter gets them into Orcus' throne room. The Prince of Undead is intrigued by the alliance Dezun so deftly proposes, but demands that their champion fight his first. Hokan volunteers to face the death giant, and gets thoroughly stomped in a toe to toe match. Varis steps in and slays the beast with a mighty stroke (critical hit on a Greater Vital Strike!) of his battle axe, and Orcus finds his performance impressive enough to let them take Hokan's remains for resurrection, as well as pledge his legions to the cause.
In Shendilavri (where some streamlining occurred to speed up the pace of the game), the balor head gets them past the marilith guardians and into the pleasure palace. Malcanthet brands Flynn with her mark and gives him the iron flask of Tuerney, of which Iggwilv promptly relieves him when they depart, volunteering to capture the aspect of Obox-Ob while they attend a council of war in the Outlands.
There, it is revealed that by spurning a possible alliance with the Archdevil Bel (a sidequest they bypassed due to *cough* alignment concerns), they have also gained a boon from some tome archons, who give all the PCs' weapons the holy property and prophecy that a noble sacrifice by a wretched soul believed beyond redemption could weaken Demogorgon and stop the savage tide (foreshadowing of the later encounter with Gregory Bonedeuce, now an abyssal larva).
[SIDE NOTE: A lot of the larger creature groups here were represented with custom statistics to simulate large groups of creatures attacking, but the players got to use the troops they'd won in the course of gathering allies to counter some of these hordes--they had command of the Tourbillon Gale eladrins, the XIII Decapitus demons, and the aspect of Obox-Ob, which could each counter one horde of creatures, effectively nullifying their effects during the combat.]
At the first portal point on the beaches of Gaping Maw, the PCs find the waters thick with kyton-crewed vessels, and Galgros Sloth-Eye himself leads them. After disposing of the accursed captain and his minions, they assault the shoreline, cutting down babau pikemen and seizing assault turrets from the hezrou gunners. Dezun and Flynn redirect the guns on the demons swarming beneath the ramparts as Hokan and Varis advance to engage the leader of the demonic hordes in this region: the marilith Aponavicius from Wrath of the Righteous (because I needed a higher-CR challenge to make them sweat here).
When they advance to the Lemoriax portal, they find one of Orcus' legions decimated, and Arendagrost ambushes them from beneath the pile of corpses--but he ends up being slowed by Dezun's shield of law and can't make it back to the antimagic field generated by the totem of negation, so the PCs eat him alive in about four rounds.
Next they move to secure the portal point in the jungle, where there lurks a horde of babau led by two deathdrinker generals and a molydeus. The players decide to expend the Tourbillon Gale, and Gwynydd and her eladrin swoop in to slaughter the babau, leaving only their commanders to deal with. The deathdrinkers deal grievous damage and suck up a lot of the heroes' defensive and healing resources before falling; Varis adds a +1 dancing vorpal cold iron greataxe to his armaments courtesy of the molydeus' corpse.
At the trench outside Wat Dagon, two creature hordes have amassed: a dozen chasme demons, and thousands of gadacro demons. The players call in Orcus' XIII Decapitus legion to deal with the gadacro while Varis focuses on taking out the chasme. Demogorgon has placed a fearsome opponent here: the Grim Reaper with a capital Gee-Arr, a mockery of Charon's pride wrenched from an alternate dimension, backed by a swarm of tortured spirits whose life essence and souls were claimed when previous shadow pearls were activated in the Material Plane. Two demon-blooded sorcerers atop black dragon wyrms flank the avatar of death, raining spells, acid, claws, and teeth down upon anything within their reach. Hokan and Flynn do their best to unseat the sorcerers from their mounts and distract the dragons until Varis can join them; Dezun concentrates his efforts on the Reaper, taking a few negative levels for his trouble but eventually decimating the skeletal psychopomp with his magic. Once Varis joins the melee against the remaining opponents, it is not long before Wat Dagon lies undefended.
[SIDE NOTE: We skipped most of the book encounters inside Wat Dagon as detailed within Prince of Demons because at this point these 20th level PCs, played by very experienced Pathfinder players, were nigh unstoppable by such relatively low-CR challenges. Aside from some light role playing, we jumped right to the battle with Demogorgon.]
The heroes find Bonedeuce's larval form inside the fortress; the villain professes contrition and begs for mercy; Varis hits it with magic missile; Hokan squishes the wretched creature beneath his heel. Oh well, so much for that redemption arc the tome archons hinted at--but the bastard really did have it coming to him. =b
When they find the master pearl, Demogorgon wrenches open a gate into the shrine, and they witness him topple Orcus into the sea beneath the bridges of Abysm before stepping through to defend the pearl. Malcanthet makes her move and Flynn doesn't resist her control, which drops some more negative levels on the big D-Man, making his final CR for the royal rumble a not-quite-as-hefty-as-it-could've-been 29. His gaze attacks are nullified by shield of law, but his ability to dispel the slow effect bestowed by that same spell keeps him going strong, and his physical attacks bat the PCs around easily. For a few rounds, it looks like the Prince of Demons will keep his crown.
And then Varis rolls a critical hit with his vorpal greataxe and cuts off the head of Hethradiah.
No more double initiative. From that point, the demon lord can't sustain himself against their assault. Demogorgon falls. His death rattle shakes the foundations of Gaping Maw. The crown of power manifests around his freshly severed heads, still screaming dark curses at all who attend his demise.
And then Orcus ascends the spires of Abysm and steps through the gate to claim the crown for himself. (Dezun tried to grab it, too, interestingly enough... more on that later.)
The heroes aren't having it, and don't care that they're facing down a CR 33 outsider with power beyond compare. They rush the Prince of the Undead, intent on destroying him as well.
Varis falls when Orcus' wand strikes him flat dead. Flynn retreats to safety as his resources dwindle (his player brings in a backup PC just for fun, an eladrin fighter). But Hokan and Dezun never falter, though Orcus pounds them round after round. But the demon lord keeps rolling natural 1s against the shield of law effect Dezun maintains.
Orcus is subdued, dead by most standards but certainly capable of rising again in time. Iggwilv emerges from the shadows to claim Demogorgon's body with the iron flask, telling the PCs to take Orcus' fetid corpse to satisfy their debt to Ahazu. They relent, not really caring which demon they sacrifice to the Seizer.
Dezun tries to claim the crown once more, but his check result is just slightly less than Dagon's (41 to 43!). The Old One seizes the crown and dives deep into the Abyssal Sea to hoard his newly stolen power.
Varis is resurrected with a wish from one of Flynn's rings, and the group returns to the Wells of Darkness to repay Ahazu. The Seizer is most pleased at the prisoner he is given in Demogorgon's stead... perhaps too much so.
And then, at long last, it's time for the heroes to go home to Port Shaw and put this terrifying quest behind them once and for all.
[Epilogue to follow...]
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THE SCOUNDREL
The old wooden sign over the door of the tavern creaked as patrons came and went, loud enough both to beckon more customers from the avenues of Port Shaw's Bawd District and to alert the bartender that service was needed. The Captain's Wheel had stood for decades, a ramshackle lineage of cheap construction, patchwork repairs, and old sorrows drowned in cheap grog. In the last few months, though, it had attained a lustre uncommon to this part of the city. Old walls, once refurbished by Tulita slave labor and underpaid laborers scrounging coppers for dragonsmoke, had been rebuilt by a newly-founded stonemason's guild. Wooden supports and furnishings cut from felled koa trees, sacred to the Tulita people and poached by Hargrove's timber cartel, had been sanded, stained, polished, and carved with symbols of the loa as a tribute to the tavern's most famous regulars. Revelers, sailors, laborers, whores, courtesans, businessmen—all walks of life were represented among the Wheel's clientele now, where once it had been little more than a hideaway for slightly more discerning sea captains who preferred their rum without a side of robbery and murder, as had been common in the not-so-olden days of corruption.
In the middle of this bustle of activity sat Flynnerrol, a rapt and attentive audience gathered near his table as he spun another tale of his journeys into the Abyss. Few actually believed the wild tales the privateer trotted out day after day, attributing his fancies to an abundance of drink, but none could dispute that they were entertaining, especially when he would draw his rapier and demonstrate a fencing maneuver to highlight yet another story of how he dashed in at the last moment to vanquish some demonic foe which would certainly have overwhelmed his compatriots had he not intervened at precisely the right moment. Today, Flynn rocked on his heels as he showed off a cunning switchback stroke once used to disarm what he called a “deathdrinker”, and if not for the affection of a few perfumed courtesans who softened his stumble, he'd have ended up lying prone. Instead, he fell backwards into soft bosoms and pillows of laughter, uprighting himself with none-too-coincidental a grope on the ample handholds the ladies in question offered, laughing heartily, and swigging another mouthful of rum. “Why, thank you ladies! Could've used you at my side in the Abyss—I'd never have lost my footing, though I might have let myself slip and fall more often just for fun!” Raucous laughter followed his bawdy jest, and he retired to his table as fiddlers struck a chord nearby, content to let the musicians do the entertaining for a while while he regained his bearings under the harsh rule of a sobering universe's force of gravity.
Flynn didn't notice the tall, dark-skinned Tulita man who entered the bar swathed in a cloak of gray, took no interest in the purposefulness of his gait, ignored the urgency of the booted steps that approached his table. Only when the man slapped down a wooden coin next to his glass and strode to the backroom of the Captain's Wheel did Flynn realize he hadn't just been in the tavern for stories and drinks—a meeting was scheduled, and he'd have been late were it not for the fact that he'd actually been the one to call it. The swashbuckler reached into a pocket when he was certain no one was looking, withdrawing a clear vial of liquid and downing the contents in a furtive gulp. Sobriety descended on him like a hawk snatching up a mouse; his eyes refocused, his purpose returned, and his swagger became less drunken and more stately. A few more gray-cloaked souls poured into the Wheel, each depositing another wooden coin on the table by Flynn.
The last of them to arrive was Bethany. “Drinking again? I'd feign shock, but the act is getting old.”
Flynn stood from the table, one arm wrapping around Bethany's shoulders as he escorted her to the back room. “What did you expect me to do when I bought this place? Take up ascetics? Maybe join Hokan's cloister of mystics and forsake life's pleasures? We fought for this, damn it—the godsgiven right of every man to be stinking drunk and swollen with lust without some assclown in a Dragoon uniform or overstuffed demon lord mucking it up. I'm not about to give that up.” He kissed her as he collected the wooden coins from the table—each of them inked with a pair of initials and the symbol of a hawk eclipsing a sunburst. “Come on, let's get this over with.” The couple strode toward the Wheel's backroom; Flynn withdrew an iron key from a hidden pocket and locked the door behind him.
Around another table of koa wood, this one pilfered from Gregory Bonedeuce's former meeting room within Fort Stormshield after his overthrow, sat a most curious confederation of individuals. No common trait united them, save their gray cloaks: old, young, stern, wry, Coian, Verdagrisian, Tulita, elf, halfling, and in one case even a face of hard mithral-plated stone etched in elven runes, its body joined limb by limb by patchwork spellcraft of nearly indeterminable origin, with bright gemstone eyes peering out of its cowl. “Sorry for the delay, ladies and gentlemen—I had other business to attend to.”
“He means he was drunk,” Bethany clarified, settling into a wooden chair and propping her booted feet up on the table.
“That too,” Flynn admitted. “So, Morninghawks—report. What's the state of the city?”
“The Port Shaw Council leadership remains thankfully free of corruption, by all investigative indications,” the large Tulita man spoke. “Lady Rosalind still has some illicit connections, of course, but her enforcers have seen to it that no bystanders get caught up in any collateral violence. Operatives in her organization who defy this edict are swiftly disappeared. Master Hokan and Mistress Razor are of no worry, certainly, and Commandant Martigan brooks no misbehavior on the part of his reformed Dragoons.”
“So the city is stabilizing—good.” Flynn turned to the halfling, Lester Farrows. “What about the cult of Dajobas? Any more rumblings there?”
“None tha' I kin discern, m'lord,” Lester answered. “A few scant reports from Dragoons an' mercantile vessels o' strange sharks followin' boats, but them coral-tipped ballista missiles ye donated to the fleet have scared 'em off, seems like. There still be weresharks out there, no doubt 'bout it, but their numbers're few.”
“Let's hope it stays that way,” Flynn said as he turned to the sentinel of stone. “Iaq, what about that other thing we talked about?”
The construct hesitated, if such a being could be said to do so. “Master, is it wise to discuss this openly? Perhaps a private consultation would—“
“Oh, out with it, Iaq, we're all in this mess together,” Bethany broke in. “May as well come clean now.”
“Complying,” the newly rebuilt construct said, producing a scroll tube and withdrawing a rolled parchment, stained with age and water. “The document was exactly where Commandant Martigan stated it would be, and our new allies delivered it as contracted. It took considerable applications of cleansing magic to make it readable once more, but Mistress Razor's theorem appears to have been confirmed.” The warmech indicated with a steely digit a series of dots marked on a five-line staff. “As speculated, when we overlay the bard's shanty on the maps, they produce a series of nautical soundings that should lead us directly to our objective. Of course, we exorcised the bard's ghost so as to ensure that the information would not spread any further than our organization.”
A collective gasp sounded throughout the backroom. “Xarn's hat, but we kin do a lot o' bloody good wi' that haul,” Lester said softly.
“For ourselves as well as others,” Komak, the tall Tulita man said. “I've no plans to leave the Morninghawks, but it'd be nice if this job paid a little better.”
“No worries, friend,” Flynn assured the man. “Your heroism at Carcass has not been forgotten. You—all of you—will be well-rewarded... and that money is also going to feed a lot of hungry mouths in this city.”
“So we're really going to do this?” Bethany asked. “You're up for another voyage? I thought you were done with adventuring and ready to drink your life away—after that business in the Abyss, you said you'd never leave the Razor Coast again.”
Flynn smiled. “That was before we knew the haul was real. Few fortunes are worth abandoning a life of comfort... but Garr Bloodbane's treasure? How could I possibly pass that up, love?”
Murmurs of agreement floated up from the table. Flynn leaned in and began to sketch out a plan on a clean sheet of parchment. “Here's where we'll begin...”
*****************************
THE CHIEFTAIN
Hokan Ali'i had never been entirely comfortable in houses of flesh, let alone this one. He was even more unsettled by it now. The greedy glints in the eyes of the courtesans who greeted him as he entered the Velvet Curtain shook him to his core. Knowing now what he did, he couldn't help but wonder if these women were eager for a chance at the delights of carnality with a decorated hero, tracking the scent of the coins jangling in his pocket—or hungry for a piece of his very soul. The smell of musk and lust permeating his nostrils reminded him of the excesses of Shendilavri, the pleasure palace of the succubus queen, Malcanthet, that accursed bastion of orgiastic excess that had so repelled him when he walked the Abyss. For a second, he even wondered if he were still back there, wandering halls of flesh and madness dressed up to look like home.
How many of these girls are not even really girls? he wondered, edging past a trio of golden-haired Verdagrisian women dressed in scant silks and painted in fine makeup to ascend the staircase up to Milady Ro's office. He knew he would find the madame there; she always spent her mornings reviewing her accounting, and her schedule ran like clockwork.
Everything ran like clockwork with her in charge. It was both a comfort and a terror to know how efficiently Rosalind's operations were conducted.
Hokan did not knock; that was a courtesy reserved for mortal citizens, in his mind, and the creature with whom he sought to speak was owed no such niceties, even if she was an ally. This was sure to be a most uncomfortable conversation, but he could not turn away from it—could not blind himself to the possibility of more injustice inside the city he'd worked so hard to make a beacon of honor and opportunity.
The elf woman—if indeed one could call her that—was carefully stacking coins into piles of a score, sliding beads across an abacus as she did. She did not look up from her desk of obsidian to regard the Tulita chieftain, though she spoke briefly when she had finished her current count. “Ah, the Ali'i. To what do I owe the pleasure of a visitation at this early hour?”
“I know what you are, Rosalind. I met your sisters. Tyralandi, Lynnara, Shami-Amourae... Malcanthet. I'd say that they send their regards, but it would be a lie. You seem to have burned some bridges—which is no small feat in those circles.”
Rosalind did not stop counting. “Auspicious company for a mortal to keep. But, knowing what you have endured these last few months, I am not surprised that my sisters interjected themselves into the situation. They excel at convincing mortals to do their bidding, you know.”
“I want your word, Ro. I want a guarantee that you will never work to make Port Shaw into what Carcass became. I want a reason not to kick you out of this city, or annihilate you altogether. Why should I trust you, knowing all that I do now?”
Another stack clinked together; another bead slid across the wire. “Why should you trust me, Ali'i? What reason have I ever given you not to trust me? When this city was in danger of falling to the weresharks, whose mercenaries rose to defend the commonfolk? When you most needed backup to stop Hargrove and Bonedeuce from sacrificing every soul that dwelt here to Demogorgon's spawn, who provided you blades in the dark to watch your soft backs? When you tired of crime sullying your streets, who reigned in the criminals?”
Hokan frowned. “You traded your mercenaries for a Council seat. You backed me up because doing otherwise would have been bad for your business. You cleaned up the streets for much the same reason—and loa help the poor souls who you disappeared. You got rich off the suffering of my people, who served in your pleasure dens and sold your drugs and did your killing for you. So don't patronize me, succubus.”
With the utterance of that word, the counting stopped; Rosalind's head snapped up, her attention fully focused on the monk. “Mind your tongue, mortal. That word no longer has any meaning for me. You know what I once was, perhaps—but you cannot begin to conceive of what I am now.”
“And just what is that, exactly?”
“A businesswoman. Someone who protects her interests. Which includes protecting your fragile democracy. And, more importantly, one who has few pleasures left in her existence, and has decided to indulge them over all objections from fools.”
The chieftain's fists clenched; muscles and sinew that had brought low demon lords and avatars of death flexed beneath his brown skin. “And when your pleasures and interests no longer align with this city's needs? What then, Ro?”
She smiled. “It should not come to that, Ali'i. You see, I enjoy stability—something my sisters never saw much value in. Tyralandi thrived on the chaos of Carcass and its demonic vagaries. And you see how that turned out for her: now she is a queen with no domain. But I prefer order. I much prefer keeping what is mine. And my needs are met much more easily in a Port Shaw that is governed by your likes than by destructive fools such as Bonedeuce and Chambers. If you doubt that, you have only to look in here for the proof.” She took a heavy ledger off a shelf nearby and dropped it onto the desk—her figures representing the last several years of business. The neat handwriting across its pages unmistakably illustrated her point: more decimal places were needed to catalogue her profits this year than any other prior to it. “Moreover, Hokan, your anger is misplaced. What should gall you most is not that I was enriched, however scarcely, by your people's suffering—but that everyone in this city, including mortal men far more evil than I have ever aspired to be, were made wealthy at the expense of their blood, sweat, and tears. And until you correct that inequality, until you convince all of them of the wrongness of that reality, then the Tulita will have gained nothing.”
Hokan relaxed—a little. “Alright, Rosalind. You get a pass, for now. But if you ever cross this city—if you ever cross me—I will bring the wrath of the loa down on this house... and drag you back to the Abyss myself. I'm sure you know that what your sisters would do to you makes anything I could do seem tame.”
The elf who was not an elf smiled. “Your word is bond, as always, Ali'i. But chin up. I have no intention of going anywhere. I will keep my end of the bargain. And besides, I have far more interesting endeavors than perverting your little city.”
The chieftain frowned again. “What sort of endeavors?”
“Oh, I was considering starting up a new aspect of my business. Peacetime in Port Shaw means that mercenaries don't fetch the same price they used to. Falling revenues create an impetus for finding new avenues of success. To that end, I was thinking of starting a new trade guild. Maybe one focused on... acquisitions, shall we say?”
“You mean thievery. Robbery and housebreaking.”
“Call it what you want,” she said, rolling her slanted eyes dismissively as she resumed her counting. “But before you fight me on this, perhaps you should speak with Flynnerrol. He has already availed himself of my services in this regard.”
Hokan's brow furrowed in worry. “Flynn hired you? For what?”
“He had an interest in acquiring certain documents believed lost to the vagaries of politics. I helped him find them. If you want to know more, talk to the Morninghawks—I'm sure they can fill you in on the details.”
That worried Hokan. The Morninghawks were Port Shaw's last line of defense—he hesitated to call them the Council's secret police, but, well, he was getting too old for euphemisms. If she has infiltrated their ranks, where else will she find cracks for her tendrils to slip into? “I will do that. You can be sure of it.”
“Is this talk concluded, then, Ali'i? I have much work to do,” she said, her hands stretched out to indicate the mound of gold and paper in front of her.
“It is. For now. You keep your end of the bargain, and I will keep mine.”
Rosalind nodded once, curtly and resumed her count as if she had never stopped. The clinking of coins echoed in Hokan's ears as he left the brothel; the whalebone scrimshaw around his neck felt heavier than ever before, and he wondered, not for the first time, how one measured the cost of peace in gold and blood.
It was an expensive peace. But it was worth it.
For now.
*****************************
THE AVENGER
Varis sat cross-legged on a grassy knoll below the Court of Stars. The fey glow of eternal twilight, projected across the Arborean Plains by the twinkling canopy of stars above, gave him sufficient light by which to work on his current task. His hands guided the whetstone across the edge of his new greataxe, a weapon he'd seized from a particularly powerful demon they'd vanquished in the Abyss. Occasionally, the hand he used to steady the axe's head in his lap strayed from the cold iron haft for long enough to reach around the shaggy neck of the massive celestial mastiff who nuzzled him in search of affection and give the beast a much-deserved scratch. “I'm almost done, Fenrir, and then I promise we'll go find you some nice bones to chew on at the feasting hall. I could do with a good bite myself, come to think of it.” Varis could not hunger or tire so long as he dwelt in the nimbus of Morwel's domain, but that didn't mean he didn't still enjoy food and sleep, and he could do with a bit of both. Fenrir, for his part, seemed to concur, exercising every scrap of patience his canine heart could muster to sit quietly while Varis finished honing his weapons, thinking doggy thoughts of succulent meats served from tables of plenty and warm pets from the friendly eladrin among the Court.
Varis had only served in Morwel's court for a few weeks since returning from his trials in the Abyss, and yet he felt more at home here than he ever had on Arinia. Finally, he could fulfill his true purpose; he could do some actual good in the multiverse. Varis had long tired of the mortal world, he now realized, and the longer he stayed here, the further away from mortal concerns his mind wandered. He could feel the change deep inside himself: with every battle he fought at the side of Gwynydd, he became more like her and the host of the Tourbillon Gale. He would never tire of war, at least not one fought for the right cause, and he realized now that the battle he had joined would rage throughout eternity—but so, too, would the joys of this place. If that great battle should claim him, then at last he could ascend to the stars knowing that he had made a difference—but he did not intend to give up so easily. After all, a demon lord had killed him once, and yet he had risen again, thanks to Dezun's magic.
His work finished, Varis placed leather guards upon either edge of the vorpal axe and strapped it to his back, beginning the impossibly long journey toward the Court of Stars. For a mortal, it was a daunting walk—indeed, during his first visit here he had doubted if he could make it, and was fairly certain that only Zydrunas' magic had helped him and the others make their journey without succumbing to exhaustion. Now he walked the starlit paths through the woods tirelessly, sometimes at a leisurely gait, other times at a full run, Fenrir sprinting close at his heels and darting ahead excitedly, glad to have someone to play with. Anyone watching would have seen a man and his dog frolicking in a heavenly place, and never suspected that these creatures were paragons of war—that the playful mastiff who licked at his master's hands and barked excitedly at the pattering of squirrels in the Arborean underbrush relished ripping the throats from demons and devils alike; that both of them had been baptized in blood during desperate sorties against the forces of abject evil.
After dining with Gwynydd and their compatriots, Varis and Fenrir returned to their quarters deep within Morwel's castle: a round alabaster chamber open to the twilit sky and the sweet air, for here no chill wind or cold rain and snow interrupted the beauty of the heavens. The bloodrager sank deep into the comforts of a plush down mattress festooned with silk pillows and looked up at the stars as he reflected on his journey. He thought often of his friends back in Port Shaw, and hoped they were well. Maybe someday he'd leave this place and visit them, see how they'd fared in rebuilding their beloved city... but not yet. It wasn't time.
As the shadow of sleep washed over him, Varis began to dream. Usually they were pleasant ones, and Varis would be hard-pressed to call any of his nocturnal wanderings nightmares; he of all people knew, after the war against Demogorgon, that most nightmares were real. But one such dream would haunt him for many of his nights to come, and tonight that dream came once again.
Again Varis found himself in the Wells of Darkness, deep within the domain of Ahazu the Seizer. Here, he had delivered the body of the demon lord Orcus, once Prince of the Undead, and very briefly the Prince of All Demonkind, to unseal the bargain he made with Ahazu. The ominous pleasure Varis had sensed from that vile entity when he had given over Orcus' remains was palpable even in the dream—it was as if the demon had asked for a trifling delicacy and been given a grand feast in its stead, and perhaps had benefited far more from their deal than he had ever expected. That realization worried Varis.
In the dreaming dark, Varis saw the curtain of blackness at the bottom of that great well swallow Orcus, deliver him into oblivion, consign him to nothingness. He didn't dream this dream every night, but on the nights he did, he couldn't escape a feeling of dread. For what if, one day, those black curtains of nothingness, those rends in the fabrics of reality, should turn themselves inside out, and release their prisoners from the devouring doom? What if that vengeful beast, robbed by Varis and his friends of his reign over all the Abyss, should escape once more to exact his revenge?
Deep in the darkness of the Well that haunted Varis' dreams, a monstrous shape pushed against the black curtain. A shrieking howl echoed far in the distance, barely audible over the roaring winds of Pazunia: “HOW DARE YOU?! THE CROWN WAS MINE, AND MINE ALONE! YOU CANNOT TAKE THIS LEGACY FROM ME, ELADRIN! SOMEDAY I WILL FIND YOU, AND YOU WILL KNOW PAIN BEYOND IMMORTAL KENNING! YOU THINK YOU CONSIGN ME TO OBLIVION, BUT I AM OBLIVION, LITTLE CELESTIAL—AND I WILL DEVOUR YOUR UNLIVING CORPSE OVER A SCORE OF EONS!”
The form receded into the blackness once again. The curtain of nothing drew close once more, reclaiming its newest prisoner. The dream faded, and Varis slept peacefully again beneath the starlight, warmed by Fenrir's touch, and, for a time, the devouring darkness and howling threats faded into memory.
*****************************
THE SAGE
“Whar ye goin', then, sir?” the dockhand asked, rubbing the coppers the elf had given him together in his fingers to make sure they weren't falsehoods of plated iron. “Plenty o' ships leavin' today—could get ye on a caravel to Coia if'n ye move fast, or ye may find passage to Verdagris if'n it please ye better.”
“Actually, I'm looking for a ship en route to Iskara Ankul,” Dezun said, his sightless eyes staring blankly toward the sea. The sun was setting over the eastern horizon, reflecting harshly off the surface, but Dezun was unfazed by the brilliance.
“Ach! Ye're in ill luck, then, sir,” said the dockhand, absently spitting a mouthful of tobacco juice into the water. “No ships leavin' for the auld city 'til the morrow, I'm afraid. Costly passage, too. A hundred marks to depart Port Shaw fer them shores. I s'pect they're tryin' ta keep out the riff raff wi' high tariffs.”
“That will do fine. I will wait here.” Dezun set his pack on the docs next to a pylon ringed in abandoned boat lines, sinking into a lotus position as he did so.
“Ye sure ye'd not rather rent a room fer th' night, sir? 'Tis cold winds on this auld dock after dark, and mean souls afoot besides. I kin point ye t'wards a boardin' house, if ye like.”
“That won't be necessary. I'm sure you have more important things to do than worry over me.” The dockhand regarded the blind elf curiously, and briefly considered trying to jostle his belongings in hopes of lifting a few coins for his trouble.
Then he saw the woman standing next to the elf. Not on the docks, like a proper person, but over the water, hovering in mid-air, there as suddenly as she'd not been there half a second previously. Her raven-black hair did not move in the stiff sea breeze, and her green-lidded gaze indicated that she knew every dishonest thought pouring through the dockhand's mind. She glanced pointedly at the pack by the elf, then looked up at the dockhand and smiled as she fingered a wand at her belt. It crackled with lightning as she caressed the handle.
“G'd'evenin' to ye both, then,” the dockhand said, waddling off hurriedly, glad that the darkening sky would conceal the wet stain on his breeches from the leering eyes of his fellow workers.
“I was quite aware of what he was planning, you know,” Dezun said as Iggwilv leaned against the pylon.
“Just the same, he should learn to respect his betters.” She waved a hand and summoned a pair of silver goblets into existence, already near to full with a fabulous vintage of Aornil white wine. “Typically I favor reds, but I think this occasion calls for a taste of your homeland.” The Witch-Queen passed a goblet to the blind elf, who accepted it with a nod and a slight smile.
“Why have you sought me out?” Dezun asked after a polite sip from the cup. “I would think you'd be quite busy studying your newest specimen. We've served our part in your plot. The fact that you are here suggests you want something more.”
“You are most perceptive for a blind man, elf. I came to ask you a question, if you'd deign to answer it.”
Dezun nodded in assent. “Very well. Ask away. It's not as if I have anything better to do than chat for a few hours, anyhow.”
“In those final moments when Demogorgon's title was up for grabs, you reached for that mantle of power. I felt you exert your will upon the crown, and I of all people would never judge you for the choice, so you need not deny it. You wanted that power, the power of a Demon Lord. I found it... uncharacteristic. So, I have to wonder: What would you have done with that power?”
Dezun was quiet for a long time. Iggwilv did not interrupt the silence, seemingly content to refill her glass as needed and watch the waves cresting away from the light.
Dezun drank, a long deep pull of a vintage he'd not tasted in centuries.
“For the better part of three months now,” said the blind elf, “I've felt steeped in the power of abyssal beings. I think it takes two hands, now, to number the ones who offered me a piece of that power for myself. And never once was I tempted by it. Each time, I knew it was merely one in a series of falsehoods, just a manipulation designed to gain the better of me or the ones I traveled with.”
He drank again. “This time was different. It was real power. More than that, it was power I earned. And while the philosophers are fond of reminding us all that the road into the Nine Hells is paved with good intent, I really and truly believed that I could harness that power for a greater good. That maybe, over eons, and at great personal cost, I could undo what the Abyss had wrought. That I could stop the tide from rolling in. Stop it forever.”
Iggwilv refilled the elf's goblet with a gesture and smiled sadly, taking a seat on the docks next to the elf, their slippered feet dangling side by side above the waters of the bay. “And what do you think now?”
The elf turned the goblet in his hand before his blank eyes; his fingers drank in the craftsmanship of the cup. Flawlessly cast dwarven silver, mined from the heart of a Kaixar vein struck some number of millenia ago judging by the smell of it, and struck with rings of runes. The cup was worth more than Port Shaw's elite probably took in taxes—or bribes—in an entire year.
“I think that a lie gets harder to tell the longer you tell it. Only a fool stands in the waves and demands that they turn back forever. Sooner or later, he will drown in the endeavor.” Dezun poured the wine out into the baytide and set the goblet beside Iggwilv.
She laughed, a harsh sound like a branch snapping over a man's knee. “I came to the same conclusion sometime ago myself.”
“I was surprised that you did not seize the crown yourself,” he said. “I suspect that few others present at Wat Dagon that day, even Orcus himself, could have resisted your will. And certainly not Dagon. Do you think he will manage to hold it?”
“Not for long,” Iggwilv replied. “His power has dwindled over the eons. The age of his kind has passed, and he is no longer the strongest among his brethren. Who might take it next interests me more. The destruction of Demogorgon and the imprisonment of Orcus has created a devastating power vacuum in the Abyss. Already, Bel's forces are gaining ground, pushing further into Pazunia, reinforcing conquered ground in the Blood War. Graz'zt and Lolth were distracted during this mess, which is probably a blessing. Morwel's eladrin are busy celebrating, and the angels are busy trying to take advantage of a weak spot in the baatezus' defenses on their planar borders. It is an interesting time in the multiverse.”
“If this qualifies as 'interesting' to you, then we may yet be doomed after all,” Dezun said. “I fear for our world. It played too pivotal a role in all of this to be ignored.”
“I agree. When the pendulum swings back, Arinia will not be spared. Pray that Orcus never manages to slip free of Ahazu's grasp. He collects his debts in casualties on the scale of millions. But there is hope yet. Your world is now being watched quite carefully by the celestials, you know. I understand one of your number joined their host.” She picked up the goblet, cleaned it with another cantrip, and put it back in one of her gown's deceptively voluminous pockets. “So where do the waves take you, now that you have gained such wisdom as to turn down power that could make one a god?”
“To Iskara Ankul, for the time being. I hope to study the customs of Ab Vaiul for a time. What I learn may yet help Sir Landon and his commanders hold back the Vaiulians until the Mainland manages to work out its petty squabbles. If I succeed there, brokering that treaty will be my next task.”
“I think I, too, would rather face a horde of fire mages than negotiate peace among the Mainlanders. The mortals of your world are exceptionally stubborn.”
“We are that. But our differences strengthen us. In time, they will learn to rely on one another as we did here in Port Shaw. Already, this city is changing for the better because a few stubborn mortals refused to give up a cause they knew was just. That gives me more hope by far than the blades of a thousand angels and eladrin.”
“Perhaps you are right.” Iggwilv stood, smoothed the wrinkles from her gown, and bowed ever so slightly. “It was a pleasure to have met you, Dezun. I'm almost sorry you didn't take that crown, for what it's worth. I think we could have accomplished great things, had we had the opportunity to work together. Next time we meet, you realize, our respective interests may bring us into conflict?”
“Oh, I rather doubt we would be. But it should prove interesting nonetheless.” He smiled.
“It should indeed. Well, I would say farewell, oracle, but you already know that whether you fare well or ill is entirely up to you.” With a word of power, Iggwilv vanished as subtly and suddenly as she appeared.
Dezun leaned back against the pylon, breathed the salt air deep into his lungs, and closed his eyes, the sound of the lapping waves beneath him singing him to sleep until the dawn came.
