Olympus RPG Blog

Olympus Role Playing Group Blog

Browsing Posts in Banestorm

Mercy

No comments

The smell of fear never bothered Merasiel before. At least, not until it was her own.


“Please, mercy! I have money, I can pay you! Let me live!”

Merasiel silently stared down the man before her. She was not afraid; the cloth wrapped around her head served to disguise her features. In any case, the man wouldn’t live long enough to tell anyone. A minor noble, who in a fit of insanity, tried to improve his station by hiring a pair of thugs to kidnap the eldest son of one of his rivals and deliver him to slavers. A common story, with an all-to-common ending. The would-be kidnappers had failed, and had squealed when placed under the slightest of duress.

“Please!” Sweat trickled down the man’s face, and he looked over his shoulder at the dark hole behind his feet. “I swear to you, I did not commit any crimes.”

Merasiel chuckled. “I’m not paid to care. Lord Rufus and his son send their regards.” With no other preamble, she shoved him off the edge. A moment later, a series of splashes echoed from below. This particular fate had been chosen by her employer. She almost admired his imagination. The fall would, of course, be cushioned by the water below. He might have received a bruise from hitting the water at an odd angle, but nothing more. But, and she looked up at the nearby ocean, there was a particularly nasty breed of fish that liked to visit this cave during high tide. Their bite would make his last moments on this world very unpleasant.

She waited until his screams stopped before leaving. All part of the job, of course.


Merasiel’s head snapped back as a gauntleted hand connected with her jaw. The faint taste of blood let her know that her lip was cracked open this time.

“I asked you a question, elf. What were you doing skulking about the Baroness’ estate?”

Merasiel had to fight the urge to laugh. It was a comedy of errors, sadly. Merasiel had been hired by the Ladyship herself to pay a visit to one of the other minor nobles and “discourage” him from his continued rivalry with the allies of the house of Moirea. She was on her way back to report on her success and be paid when she stumbled upon a dark cloaked figure leaving the estate, followed by the sound of the alarm being raised. A very messy fight soon followed, which led to both of them fleeing on foot when a passerby called for the guard.

Merasiel had no idea how the guard managed to track her down at the inn where she was staying, but over the next few hours, she was able to piece together at least some of what happened. Apparently the figure she had run into was a simple thief and had made off with a few valuables. Merasiel, of course, was fingered by the Baroness’ staff as having been seen skulking around the premises earlier in the evening and looking very shady at that. The Baroness herself claimed no knowledge of Merasiel and Merasiel, of course, couldn’t reveal the truth behind her presence in the estate as it would implicate her employer and break terms of the contract. In the end, the guardsmen decided that there was no need to look further for the thief, and Merasiel found herself subject of an interrogation for a crime she had no part in.

Merasiel’s mind snapped back to the present as a blow landed to her belly and she doubled over in pain. Her ears were ringing from the repeated blows she’d endured, and it wasn’t until a new voice spoke that she realized that someone else had entered the room.”She won’t speak, Captain.”

“It matters not. She is a common thief and we will not waste the judge’s time with her.” The “Captain” reached out a hand and hooked a couple of fingers underneath Merasiel’s chin, forcing her gaze upwards. “She looks like she has a bit of spirit in her, doesn’t she? Put her in the Gutter.”

The guard glanced over at the Captain, who noted the silence. “Do you have a problem carrying out this order?”

“No sir.”

“Then you have it. I have word that Lord Proximo will be in need of some new stock in a few days. We’ll see if this one is ready by then.”

After the Captain left, Merasiel spoke for the first time. “What’s the Gutter?”


The “Gutter”, as it turned out, was a long, deep trench where the worst offenders were forgotten until they either died or were sent into slavery. Sections were barred off, but still there were a handful of prisoners in each one. Food and water were tossed down from above, and those who were strongest were the only ones who ate. The smell was horrendous, but what was worse were the faces that peered up at her from the darkness. Not a one of the prisoners were female.

Merasiel swallowed and felt beads of sweat break out on the back of her neck. “Please. Mercy.” She barely recognized the sound of her own voice as the words came unbidden. The guard unshackled her wrists and shoved her forwards. “I’m not paid to be merciful, miss.” Merasiel’s fall was halted by several pairs of grimy, groping hands.

A short while later, two of those in her cell lay unconscious over by the wall where she left them. The other three were huddled nearby, nursing black eyes and broken noses. One of them had finally managed to get his shoulder back into its socket. Merasiel stood against the other wall of the cell and glared at them. She was hurt badly from the fight, but she was damned if she’d let them see it.

As the week drug on and she had little to do but defend herself from the attentions of her cellmates and think, she reflected on her current state and her mind drifted back to all of the times she had been the recipient of cries for mercy, and all of the times she ignored them. A strange, unfamiliar feeling crept into her consciousness. She had never truly felt remorse before, but now that she was on the receiving end of unnecessary cruelty, the feeling would not go away that this was somehow penance for more than simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Her thoughts eventually drifted to her former companions as she heard one of the guards tell another about this fantastic show he had seen with amazing magicians and ferocious dragons that had tried to eat ten, no twenty people in the audience! She wondered what they all were up to.

After a week of terrible food and very little sleep, the guards came and lowered a rope ladder for the all of those in Merasiel’s section to climb out, one by one. They were shackled as soon as they were off the ladder, and herded out of a back entrance into a cart bound for the estate of one Lord Proximo.

Dramatis Personæ

Brother Mendel (Herodian)
Dane Sardock (Winston)
Gabriel Auditore (CommJunkee, for Rigil Kent)
Gestlin the Unpredictable (CommJunkee)
Magnifico the Clown (Feste)
Rainald North-Hammer (Gigermann)


bs-craine

Of Strengths and Perceptions

23 Apr 2014

bs-templars

bs-68-screen1

bs-68-screen2

bs-68-screen3

Continued… At that, the fight began in earnest, a whirling, chaotic tempest of steel and magic. The captain of the Templars rolled on the ground in an attempt to extinguish the flames, aided by his lieutenant; those Templars bearing sword-and-shield remained in the saddle and charged forward at the Heroes; those bearing two-handed swords quickly dismounted and followed behind the horses; the crossbowmen above loosed their bolts at the spellcasters and Dane. Gestlin dove to the ground to avoid being struck, and crawled to the cover of the boulder. As one of the mounted enemy passed ’round the dark side of the overturned wagon, Gabriel sprang from the shadows and stabbed his horse, which fell with its rider; Gabriel attacked its rider as he got to his feet. One of the Templars cast a Grease spell upon the boulder where Dane perched, and though he struggled to keep his footing, he continued to loose arrows two-at-once at those who approached nigh to the rock. The horsemen weaved amongst the Heroes on the road, dividing them, hacking down at them with their broadswords; Brother Mendel and Magnifico were both struck hard in the fray, while Gestlin blasted the backside of one of the horses with a Flame Jet (the rider managed to stay mounted). Rainald dodged ’round the horses and managed to force two greatsword-wielding foes back away from the casters, but his spear could scarcely find its mark, for the enemy was very skilled. After another volley from above, Dane shifted his aim to those crossbowmen on the cliff. The casters remained encircled by the horsemen, while Gabriel and Rainald exchanged strikes with the other soldiers on the ground. The pixie-scout flew up to Gestlin as he had gotten to his feet; it threw a tiny handful of pixie dust into Gestlin’s face, and he fell to the ground, fast asleep. Brother Mendel cast a healing spell upon himself lest he should fall, and masterfully wielding his staff, disarmed one of the mounted Templars of his sword, then later, another. Magnifico cast a Madness spell upon one of the enemy, who lost himself to imagined horrors, dropping to his knees; then Magnifico tried, in Elvish, to convince the pixie to betray its master for a promise of freedom. The Templar captain, now extinguished, and his lieutenant charged forward to join the fight. The now-weaponless mounted Templars spurred their horses to attack, assaulting the casters with hoof and flank, then they quickly dismounted and scrambled to retrieve their fallen swords. Gabriel wounded one Templar such that he would surely die, and the enemy surrendered himself, and he turned to one of his formerly-mounted company as he reached for his fallen sword. At the same time, Rainald had been lured away from the casters, and after a lucky thrust of his spear caught one in the face, quickly fell back to his fellows. Dane picked off one of the crossbowmen, then another, and another. Brother Mendel now faced the Templar captain, and he disarmed him with his staff; the pixie, unconvinced by Magnifico’s reasoning, tried to pick up the sword for its master, but Mendel spotted it and smashed it with a mighty swing of his staff. Magnifico strained himself to summon the magical energy to cast a Madness spell on another soldier, who succumbed to its effects, just before Magnifico collapsed from the injury it caused him. As the Templar captain reached for his fallen sword, Brother Mendel disarmed him again; the enemy leader became so furious that he chased Brother Mendel unarmed, trying to tackle him, though Brother Mendel batted him aside again and again with his staff. Meanwhile, Gabriel had near-decapitated one foe, then another, while Rainald engaged the lieutenant, and one by one, the Templars, most of them grievously wounded, threw up their hands in surrender to the Heroes. Finally, the Templar captain, exhausted and angry, and grieved by the apparent death his dear pixie companion, gave himself up as well, broken as his company was broken.

The Templars still able asked permission to see to their wounded, and it was granted them; in the end, only one of them had actually died. Rainald, Gabriel and Dane were impressed with their surprisingly-honorable behavior after the battle as they were with their martial skills during it. Magnifico and Gestlin were roused. Magnifico took up the pixie—not quite dead yet—and magically healed it, and offered it freedom, but it instead went to its master; there was no spell binding it to the captain, forcing its loyalty, that they could detect. The Heroes, specifically the casters, were in bad shape, but were intent on dragging the truth of what the Templars were up to here from the captain, who they declared would remain their captive; the others they elected to allow to leave in peace, though the lieutenant insisted he remain behind to stand by his captain, and surrendered his weapons to his men as they returned to their tower in the city. As they all rested, Rainald spoke to the lieutenant, asking what this business was about: he replied that they were under orders to capture them, and could say little else on the matter.

bs-templar1After much rest and some magical healing, the Heroes prepared to “interrogate” the captain, assuring the lieutenant that he would not be harmed. Gestlin then cast a Sleep spell on the captain, who fell into a deep sleep. Then Magnifico cast a Mind Search spell, sifting through the captain’s unconscious—and therefore, unresisting—thoughts for the answers to their questions; he learned that Lord Wallace had been taken captive by the Templars for “treasons” against King Conall, and was being held prisoner in Tredroy, and was not expected to be moved from there. This was cause for some speculation, as the Heroes knew that the Templars had little presence in Caithness, and as an order of the Church, had no business in Caithness politics.

Afterward, it was decided to take both of their prisoners back to the ship, to be held there in its hold, while a runner was sent with a message to the Templars at their tower, demanding a ransom for their release, to be paid at the docks in the morning. The following morning, the Templars did indeed present themselves at the docks as bidden, bearing a ransom of thirty-six gold marks; the prisoners were released as promised, without incident—the Templar captain, though still feeling low over his defeat, even seemed to acknowledge the Heroes’ honorable behavior. After the business was done, the Heroes wished to hasten away to Tredroy, but there was the matter of Proximo and Aamir, and the demonstration that had been promised, along with whatever information Proximo might have been able to gain from his contacts regarding Lord Wallace’s whereabouts. Also, the Templars would undoubtedly have magical communication abilities, and their agents in Tredroy would certainly be immediately alerted to the Heroes’ approach, ruining any chance of surprise. So, they elected to stay in Craine for one more day, to see what could be done.


Notes

  • This session was dominated by the rather large combat sequence that began at the end of the previous session
  • Gabriel’s player was on vacation for this session; Gestlin’s player picked him up when Gestlin fell
  • The Templars that opposed the PCs were possessed of skills of around approaching 20; we quipped that this must be all the “master-level” fighters in the whole order come after us—fortunate for the Order that they didn’t all die. As we began to understand what we were up against, we were unsure of a positive outcome, but we triumphed anyway—for reasons I can’t fully understand; it was a total mess on the PCs’ part, and I don’t recall any particular tactical blunder on the enemy’s part
  • Now that we have a definite location of Wallace, we have no real need to go to Bannock, but Aamir himself hailed from Tredroy, so he will undoubtedly want to do a dragon show there—same plan, different location. Proximo’s information via his contacts is no longer a requirement, but we’ll see what he came up with anyway—maybe he can add something useful

Dramatis Personæ

Brother Mendel (Herodian)
Dane Sardock (Winston)
Gabriel Auditore (Rigil Kent)
Gestlin the Unpredictable (CommJunkee)
Magnifico the Clown (Feste)
Rainald North-Hammer (Gigermann)


bs-craine

Of Diplomacy and Intimidation

23 Apr 2014

Brother Mendel met with the rest of the Heroes for breakfast in the common room of the Crimson Mug Inn and showed them the threatening note he had discovered next to his bed, secreted in the night by someone he believed to be a Templar brother-knight, a near-certainty given his Seeker vision and Gabriel’s reconnaissance from the previous day; they deduced the enemy’s location in the vision to be the same tower in town to which Gabriel had followed “Valorus’” Templar escort. They briefly discussed kidnapping the Templar from his bed in the tower using a portal, as they had in the past when Pachacuti traveled with them, but Brother Mendel considered the difficulty of the “weave” and determined it was beyond his skill. Instead, they decided to meet with Aamir Rachmani as promised, at the estate of Proximo, and perhaps draw their foes out of the shadows as they conducted their business for the day. As they were expecting trouble, they geared up for a fight before they left.

The Heroes traveled through the city without incident, across the river, to arrive at Proximo’s impressive estate. They were met there at the gate by a guard, who took their names and escorted them to a nearby garden area where he introduced them all to Proximo and Aamir. They were offered food and drink by their host, and got straight to business, though not initially regarding the dragon show as was expected—the Heroes instead inquired of Proximo what he might know of Lord Wallace, the Templars, and slavery in-general, telling him of their mission to find the wayward baron. Brother Mendel presented as payment the enchanted necklace they had recovered at Ferrier upon their return from the Otherworld, a “priceless” artifact that granted the wearer special favor with the opposite gender when under the light of the moon; he offered to allow Proximo to wear the necklace out that night to prove its effects. Proximo was so impressed by the gift that he told them much of what he knew (but not all, as he appeared to hold something back), and promised to speak to his many contacts in the area on the matter. When the subject was eventually changed to the dragons, the Heroes expressed a willingness to perform at Bannock, as the event would likely prove useful to their mission. Proximo was almost insistent that they perform in the arena, with the dragons fighting slaves, but Heroes were reluctant to shed blood needlessly, lest the dragons should make a habit of it. Magnifico swore that Brother Mendel’s illusions would be more than adequate to appease the bloodthirsty crowd, but before Proximo would relent, he desired a private performance to prove its “realism”; Magnifico agreed to a demonstration on the morrow, at the estate.

The Heroes left Proximo’s manor satisfied of their success, and started toward the docks to inform Captain Finn they would tarry another day or two. As they left the gate, a suspicious fellow was spotted down the street a bit, inattentively carving a piece of wood while not-so-discreetly observing their activities. Gabriel brazenly strode toward the man to ask him his business; the man at first tried to pretend to innocence in lacing up his boot, then broke into a run down an alley as Gabriel neared him; Gabriel decided to let him go.

Rainald spoke to Captain Finn, and after helping get Gestlin’s wagon loaded back on the ship, spent the day talking with the other sailors here and there on the docks, doing loading work, and fishing for a while, to feed the dragons. At the same time, Gestlin opted to make use of the Mages’ Guild in town to learn some new spells, taking Brother Mendel to aid his studies; Gabriel followed along to watch their backs. The time passed without incident.

As evening approached, the Heroes assembled back at the Crimson Mug. As they arrived, a youth seated on a barrel outside the tavern door jumped down to deliver a written message—upon reading, it said they should meet with Proximo at a monastery just outside town at sunset. The Heroes suspected a trap—perhaps just naturally suspicious—and girded themselves for battle before setting out on foot for the monastery; Gabriel knew the place.

bs-67-screen1
bs-templar1

As the sun settled and the shadows grew long, the Heroes strode boldly down the secluded riverside path leading up to the monastery. They spotted an overturned wagon up the path, and presumed it to be the inevitable ambush spot. They spotted a tiny light flitting about in the trees above, identifying it as a pixie (having encountered them before in the Harkwood), before it disappeared into the foliage ahead of them. Then the ambushers revealed themselves; first, a handful of crossbowmen emerged from a high cliff to one side of the road, followed shortly by riders appearing from (figuratively) nowhere before and behind them, all bearing Templar colors. The Heroes were boxed in by the cliff, the riders, and the river, and they took up a defensive stance; Gabriel darted into the shadows next to the fallen cart and disappeared from view, while Gestlin readied an Explosive Fireball and held it. One of the Templars to the fore rode forward a step or two, the pixie they saw before now resting atop his horse’s head; he addressed the Heroes, demanding they lay down arms and surrender or be slain. A few of the Heroes questioned their ability to best such a band, but held fast, wondering internally if this would be their end; after a minute or two of blustering back and forth, Dane, atop a large boulder, impatiently loosed an arrow at the Templars’ leader. Action ensued.

The Leader ducked below Dane’s arrow, but Gestlin threw his ready Fireball at his horse’s feet, releasing a massive fiery explosion, felling the horse and setting the Leader ablaze. The mounted Templars bearing sword-and-shield charged the Heroes, while those bearing two-handed swords quickly dismounted and rushed in on foot; the crossbowmen loosed their arrows at the Heroes’ casters; none were struck, but Gestlin had to dive to the ground and crawl for the cover of the boulder. Then the unthinkable happened:

[“Sir” Magnifico] begins a dance hereafter to be enshrined in Anglish dictionaries under “suggestive,” though perhaps it commands rather than suggests. His sinuous, liquid movements awaken something primal in the human soul, evoking dim racial memories of Lovecraftian horrors beyond time. The concepts involved confront vows of piety, obedience and chastity and evert them—the very concepts of right and wrong lose, for a long, horrid moment, all semblance of meaning…

To be continued…


Notes

  • The Necklace was a random bit of treasure we ended up finding in the ruin of Ferrier, our first stop after we returned from the Huallapan homeworld—the Vasa had razed the town, and had no use for treasure, so everything was left behind; Mendel was later able to identify the necklace’s properties. We had all but forgotten we had it
  • The PCs really have no intention of touring Al-Wazif right now, though they won’t burn any bridges in that regard, as it may be useful before or after they recover Lord Wallace; however, having the show set up in Bannock is good for the mission, so we definitely wanted the sponsorship there, as well as Proximo’s slaver contacts. We spent a good bit of time thinking of ways to give the audience a vision of bloodshed while still being able to say, “No slaves were harmed during the performance of this show” afterward
  • Dane was ready to take a shot at the spy outside Proximo’s estate, sparking a discussion about whether or not one could hide or disguise that sort of thing with an Illusion spell (Mendel doesn’t have proper Invisibility yet)
  • We had a brief encounter with pixies in Harkwood in Book I; some of the PCs lost some silver to their sticky fingers, but Gabriel (at least) gave some shiny up willingly—otherwise, the encounter was benign. It did have us expecting an Elvish ambush, though, until the Templars revealed themselves
  • Magnifico’s Infernal Dance was intended by his player to distract the crossbowmen from being able to effectively fire upon the other PCs, being unable to look upon the spectacle directly. Mags didn’t have any skill/spell/etc. to allow for that effect by RAW, though it certainly did draw attention. I think it had a greater effect on the players listening to its description—bear in mind that Magnifico is an old man, Unattractive and Hunchbacked, wearing a jester’s bright, silly-looking garb—and it was suggested he might be using Rainald’s spear as a stripper-pole. Just for giggles, the GM made everyone viewing it roll a Fright Check, the results of which included more than one Critical Failure
  • We ended up stopping for the night mid-combat; I decided to defer the report until next time, to put it all together into one

Dramatis Personæ

Brother Mendel (Herodian)
Dane Sardock (Winston)
Gabriel Auditore (Rigil Kent)
Gestlin the Unpredictable (CommJunkee)
Magnifico the Clown (Feste)
Rainald North-Hammer (Gigermann)


bs-craine

Of Performances and Revelations

22 Apr 2014

bs-marketsquareAt the approach of the appointed time, as the sun lowered in the West, the Heroes left the Crimson Mug and fetched Gestlin’s wagon once again, and the dragons in their cages, and made their way up the main street to the market square, to prepare for the evening’s show. A space next to the wagon was cleared for the “stage,” with the dragons in their cages to either side of it. Rainald and Radskyrta would take up stations next to the cages to keep the crowd at a proper distance; Dane found a balcony where he could overwatch the crowd for ne’er-do-wells, though he would eventually join the crowd-control team. Gestlin was ready to give his support to the show with magical fireworks, but his reputation for clumsiness gave Magnifico some concern, and it was decided he should sit out the performance to help manage things backstage. Townsfolk began to trickle into the square as the players rehearsed. As the audience grew, Magnifico began to doubt his ability to keep Primus and Secundus under control during their part of the show, and it was decided that the dragons would only be loosed one at a time.

Meanwhile, Gabriel slipped into the shadows of a side alley, and made his way to the guild-hall of the Aldenard Trading Company to observe the goings-on there, and break in when the time was right.

Soon, the spectators filled the square, and Magnifico gave the signal to start the show. Magnifico started off with a light-hearted joke routine that transitioned seamlessly into the main-course, the story of the Heroes’ adventures in the Otherworld against the Vasa, focusing, as it had before, on the role and person of Malcolm Wallace, this time with much embellishment of the Megalan role in the war. Participating due to a last-second capitulation, Gestlin magically levitated Magnifico above and amongst the crowd as he spoke, sang, and played, while Brother Mendel provided illusory illustration of the story, and all seemed well. Both dragons were very clearly unnerved by the large number of humans before them. As the show arrived at the point of the story featuring the dragons’ flyover, Secundus’ cage was opened; Magnifico failed to firmly seize his attention, though, and Secundus hissed and roared at the crowd, flying to rest atop the wagon, beating his wings and baring his teeth menacingly. The onlookers, of course, applauded the magnificent display, being oblivious to the players frantically struggling to get the young dragon under control, and keep Primus from following his example. Then the worst happened—Secundus excitedly bolted down from his perch to attack one of the spectators in the front row; Rainald sprinted to intercept the dragon, and threw his shoulder into the dragon’s ribs, knocking him to the ground at Dane’s feet. The townsfolk in the front row screamed and pressed back into the crowd to get away. Scrambling to help, Gestlin activated his staff with a shout of “Smil-Blam!” and Possessed the creature; his body went limp as his consciousness transferred to the body of the dragon, and he (as the dragon) collected himself and leapt into the air, circling low over the crowd in as close an imitation of Secundus’ intended performance as he could recall, before returning to the cage, entering with a “bow” to the crowd. The onlookers applauded all the more, now convinced by Magnifico that the “attack” was merely part of the show all along. (Primus didn’t get his turn after all, for obvious reasons.) Magnifico continued his performance without missing a beat, and concluded it with the post-Crusade, mysterious disappearance of Lord Wallace, on a trade mission through Megalos.

It seemed the show was very well received by the townsfolk, though none came forward to say they had seen Lord Wallace; in all, monies collected amounted to a little over 22 and a half gold marks, which, after reimbursement of the permit fee, was split up evenly amongst the participants—not a bad profit at all. During the cleanup afterward, the Heroes were approached by a well-dressed Wazifi man who greeted them in the Arab tongue—and was somewhat surprised when Magnifico responded in kind. Speaking Anglish, the man said his name was Aamir Rahmani, of Tredroy, and that he was very interested in sponsoring their show, “unique in all the world,” on a sweeping tour of the great cities of Al-Wazif. Though the Heroes had no time for such distractions from their mission to locate Lord Wallace, Bannock (where Lord Wallace had last been seen) was in Al-Wazif, and such a show there might be a good opportunity to cover their search. The man encouraged them to accept his offer and invited them to meet with him on the morrow before they left downriver; Magnfico promised him that they would do so. He would be found at the home of Proximo, a well-known dealer in slaves all over Megalos, with whom he was staying while in Craine.

Gabriel caught up to the rest as they returned to the Crimson Mug to bed down for the night; he had broken into the Aldenard hall and got away cleanly, but found next-to-nothing there that would shed any light on Lord Wallace’s potential whereabouts or his business with the trade company.

As Brother Mendel woke the following morning, he found a dagger stuck in a post by his bed, anchoring a paper note. Without reading the note, he immediately cast a Seeker spell to divine the location of the one who had left the dagger; he caught a vision of a man dressed in the garb of a Templar brother-knight, in a stone-walled room with a view of the river through a single, narrow window—likely the tower where Gabriel had shadowed the Templar earlier that day. Brother Mendel then carefully opened the note and read: “Give up on your search for Wallace or it will be your deaths.”


Notes

  • Gabriel’s player was called away to work shortly after the session started, and did not return until it was all but over; had that not occurred, more would undoubtedly have been made of his break-in
  • The GM gave Magnifico a -2 to handle the dragons due to the crowd, the size of which they had not yet experienced; then, at the critical moment, he rolled a “17” anyway—the die is a fickle mistress 😛
  • After the near-death of one of the crowd, Magnifico’s player was beginning to wonder, understandably, whether this large-scale production was a wise idea—then the Wazifi guy showed up
  • The discovery of the knife-note inevitably led to a lengthy discussion about how we should answer the deed; a most promising idea we had was to kidnap the Templar from his bed via a portal, created by “Alien Magic” (that is, Ritual Path Magic). As this group is inexperienced with RPM, this resulted in quite a long time spent figuring out what it would take for Brother Mendel, whose skills and abilities in such things are, as it turned out, woefully insufficient for what would turn out to be a rather more powerful effect than we had led ourselves to believe when we were portalling all over the Otherworld in Book I—suffice it to say that the “portal” plan was abandoned. Hopefully, we’ll have a better one ready for next time

Dramatis Personæ

Brother Mendel (Herodian)
Dane Sardock (Winston)
Gabriel Auditore (Rigil Kent)
Gestlin the Unpredictable (CommJunkee)
Magnifico the Clown (Feste)
Rainald North-Hammer (Gigermann)


bs-craine

Of Rumours and Questions

22 Apr 2014

In the morning, the Heroes split up.

Rainald went to the docks to help the crew with the ship’s maintenance, and help them get Gestlin’s wagon unloaded and reassembled for Magnifico, along with the flimsy, makeshift cages for Primus and Secundus—designed for onlookers’ peace-of-mind rather than keeping the dragons restrained. Between work shifts, Rainald made his way up and down the river’s docks and spoke with the sailors there about whatever might be of interest, and perhaps any sightings of Lord Wallace or the Merry Weather, the barge that had brought him downriver through Craine. Later in the day at some of the sailors’ suggestion, Rainald visited the office of the port authority. Given the impatient, agitated patrons loitering in the office lobby, he was surprised to be served so quickly—perhaps a perk of his status as Lord of Rainaldsheim? The small, well-mannered clerk led him to the archives and pulled down from the shelves a massive folio containing the port records for the specified period. Rainald realized then that he should have brought along someone who could read, and informed the clerk that he “would have to do the honors” for him; the clerk read aloud the pertinent information: the Merry Weather had indeed stopped in Craine for a couple of days about a year ago, though no accounting of passengers was available, nor its business at port. The clerk politely and professionally refused Rainald’s gift of a silver piece for his aid until it was “carelessly” dropped on the floor; Rainald helped the clerk put the heavy record-book back in its place, thanked the man again, and took his leave.

Gabriel and Gestlin made their way to the city’s market districts to ask after encounters with Lord Wallace when he undoubtedly stopped in Craine. The two both spotted a familiar sigil, that of House Berd, which belonged to the Lord of Fordham in Caithness, above the door of the hall of the Aldenard Trading Company. Thinking Lord Wallace would surely have done business with fellow Caithnessers, they strode up to the door and knocked. They were met at the door by a clerk, who led them into the lavishly-decorated lobby, full of rare curiosities from all over the known world (which Gestlin managed not to knock over). Upon inquiry, the clerk informed the two that this company was owned and run by Hagen Berd, nephew to Lord Fordham, and traded in various goods, but his master was unavailable to meet with them; he instead offered to give his master word of their desire to speak. Gabriel sensed the man was hiding the truth, and taking care that his dragon tattoos were visible to him, forcefully demanded again to see his master; the clerk took umbrage and demanded the two leave the premises. Gestlin made a valiant attempt to defuse the situation, but the clerk would not budge an inch, promising only that the master would be informed of their wishes, and that they would be contacted at their lodging when he became available. Seeing they would learn nothing more from the man, the two left; Gabriel told Gestlin of his suspicions as they returned to the square.

Magnifico, along with Brother Mendel, had borrowed Gestlin’s wagon intending to take the dragons on a street-tour of the city in advertisement of the show he intended to perform that evening, expecting someone would stop him and tell him where he needed to go to obtain proper permission for such an event. The spectacle drew throngs of onlookers immediately—a dragon of any kind was a rare sight indeed—and they were stopped by the city guard, who were rather less informed regarding administrative matters than Magnifico had hoped. They instead turned the wagon about and headed in the direction of the city’s arena, followed all the way by a crowd of the curious. But when they arrived, they saw that the arena was vacant—an off day—and the playbill indicated no shows to be performed therein this day. Then they continued to the town hall, crowds still following, and begged an audience with the city’s masters. The audience was granted, and they discovered that permission to perform at the arena would be ludicrously expensive, especially on such short notice as this, but as the administrators were eager to disperse the crowd, they settled on a permit to perform in the market square in the evening for five gold marks; between the Magnifico and Brother Mendel, they gathered and paid the fee, and went their way, expecting to recover their money and much more.

bs-CrimsonMugDane spent the day relaxing at the Crimson Mug inn, listening, carefully and discreetly, to the conversations amongst the soldiers and mercenaries drinking and eating there throughout the day. As afternoon approached, the rest of the Heroes began to trickle in from their business in the city to join him. Rainald told of his findings at the port authority. Gabriel and Gestlin told of their experience at the guild-hall. Magnifico and Brother Mendel were the last to arrive at the inn, and as they did, they informed the others of “the show”; Rainald volunteered to help manage the crowd, and there was talk of enlisting Gestlin’s magical talents for the performance. (Also, they discussed the need for a collapsible “stage” to be added to the wagon for future occasions such as this.)

Some time later, a well-dressed man claiming to be Hagen Berd arrived at the inn and found the Heroes at their corner. They invited him to their table and asked what business he might have done with Lord Wallace, and when he might have seen him last; he, in return, asked many questions of them, about what they knew or didn’t know, but in turn revealed little, raising much suspicion regarding his motives. Then, a very drunk man at a table across the room spotted the man and waved in a friendly manner, calling out his name as “Valorus”; the man who had claimed to be Hagen Berd quickly excused himself and left the inn in a hurry, ignoring the drunk man’s attempts to get his attention.

Gabriel left immediately after, and discreetly followed behind “Valorus” as he hurried down the street, constantly looking over his shoulder. Gabriel observed as he met with a man garbed in the uniform of a Templar Knight, who then escorted “Valorus” back to the Aldenard guild-hall before leaving him there. Meanwhile, back at the inn, the others bought the drunk man another drink and attempted to coax from him more information about this “Valorus” fellow and what he might have been up to; he didn’t know him well—just drank with him sometimes—but he did confirm that it was not Hagen Berd they had spoken to. This man, a furrier by trade, had been commissioned on a number of occasions to make fur coats for Master Berd’s many mistresses, though he had never met him in person, nor knew any more of his dealings.

Some time later, Gabriel returned and shared his discovery, and Dane began to put the pieces of the puzzle together: Lord Wallace had a long-standing grievance regarding the appointment, against his many objections, of the royalist Lord Fordham as regent of the Caithnesser kingdom on the Huallapan world after the Crusade’s end, and there had been no love lost between them since; also, the Templars had not much of a presence in Caithness until the appointment of the late Bishop Zabka, a Templar agent, to the Archdiocese of Photius, and could gain much standing both in Caithness and the Otherworld through collusion with Lord Fordham, and the rebel Lord Wallace’s popularity could interfere with their backing of the more sympathetic royalist barons. Between the two factions, there was certainly plenty of motivation to do Lord Wallace harm. But “the show must go on,” and so, the Heroes discussed what to do next.


Notes

  • This is the first time Rainald’s illiteracy actually reared its head in-game
  • Brother Mendel’s player was late this session, or he might have gone with Rainald earlier; worked out anyways, since he’s an integral part of the traveling dragon show (that keeps getting bigger every time we stop)

Craine.

The smell of it was so damned familiar, even though almost twenty years had passed since he last walked these streets. Even as Gestlin nattered on, saying absolutely nothing that was of importance, Gabriel was lost to the memories. He did not realize until it was too late that his feet had once again led him by his old home. Thankfully, the wizard beside him seemed ignorant of his distraction as he continued to ramble about … what? Was he talking about rabbits? No matter. As long as he paid no attention to Gabriel’s expression.

Nothing remained of his old home, though that was no surprise, not with how he and Father left it so very long ago. This was the first time since then he’d dared to even set foot in this neighborhood – when last he was in Craine some sixteen years back, he’d given this entire side of the city a wide berth. Gabriel grimaced at the new house there – the stonework was all wrong; the roof was in that new style which was so unattractive, but the smells … they were still the same despite the years…

bs-craineTwenty-Two Years Ago

The ring of steel against steel woke him.

Gabriel was already out of his bed, his legs tense and his muscles taut, long before his brain realized what was happening. He heard the grunts of men dying, of blades slicing through flesh and cloth, of hurried orders called out by unfamiliar voices. Fear coursed through his body as he hesitantly reached for the sheathed half-sword hanging off of his bed. He had just pulled the tiny rapier out when his door exploded.

Father was there, blood streaming down his face, and he danced away from the blades of two heavily armored men – with a flourish that Gabriel recognized as Kissing the Adder, his father dropped one of the men, and then twirled away from the other warrior’s fierce counterstrike. Overbalanced, the murderer had to throw himself to the ground to avoid Father’s spinning strike.

The man never saw Gabriel.

His rapier thrust was a simple one – Eel Among the Lily Pads – but the blade sliced through the man’s pants with immediate results. The murderer cried out in shock and pain, recoiling away with such speed that it tore the small rapier from Gabriel’s hand. Terror lanced through Gabriel then as the man gave him a dark look – he had no weapon! – but Father was faster, smoother, more dangerous. He flowed back into position, the rapier flickering faster than the eye could follow, and the wounded man’s cry turned into a startled gurgle as the elder Auditore cut his throat.

“Get your boots, boy,” Father ordered sharply. “Quickly now!” His voice was harsh and cold, but Gabriel could see the pain in his eyes. He wanted to hesitate, wanted to ask questions, but the fear that threatened to turn his bowels to water instead gave strength to his muscles. With deft fingers, he pulled on his boots and then, at Father’s quick head gesture, donned the traveling cloak. “Stay close,” Father instructed as he glided out of the room. Gabriel followed.

Beyond, in the wide dining hall, there were a dozen bodies, all armored but unmoving. The sharp smell of spilled blood hit him at once and Gabriel barely bit back the urge to vomit – he swallowed the hard lump in his throat as he followed Father toward the study. There too were corpses, all wearing black and gray. Gabriel had no eyes for them.

Because his mother was here as well.

She was on the floor, half leaning against Father’s desk, staring sightlessly at him, and Gabriel automatically cried out in horror when he saw the crimson staining her dress. Two crossbow bolts stood out from her chest and the expression on her face was one of surprise. He took a step closer to her, his mind reeling, but Father caught his shoulder with his free hand.

“There’s no time for tears, lad,” he said through clenched teeth. Abruptly, Gabriel realized that Father was also bleeding – he had a crossbow bolt in his belly as well, but somehow, was still moving. “Grieve later,” Father ordered. He led the way to the secret passageway concealed by the fireplace, pausing momentarily to snatch one of the oil lanterns from where it hung just within. With a flick of his wrist, Father sent the lantern tumbling toward the shelves on the far side of the study – it shattered with an explosion of glass, hurling oil in all directions and, almost instantly, fire sprang up. “Requiescat in pace, my love,” Father murmured as he backed into the tunnel. He triggered the release and, with the soft sound of muted gears turning, the fireplace rolled back into place, leaving them in the darkness broken only by the faint light of the other lanterns.

“Father…”

“There is no time,” came the immediate response. “We must away from Craine as quickly as possible.”

“You’re wounded,” Gabriel began before blinking. “Claudia,” he said as he glanced around. “Where is my sister?”

“With the Lord now,” Father said grimly. He began limping down the narrow corridor.

The flight from Craine was a nightmare of madness, blood and death. They emerged from the concealed tunnel into the city proper, but found a handful of men waiting for them. Father danced the forms brilliantly, killing three before they even knew of the danger they were facing, and then slew the remaining two in a blink of an eye. Gabriel’s fear gave way to anger and, when reinforcements arrived, he fell upon them fiercely, the raw fury of his attack making up for his poor form. One, he killed outright – an exceedingly sloppy Mongoose Takes a Viper – and the other, he slowed long enough for Father to draw close enough to stab him through the eye. These men also were given to the fire, though this time, it was Gabriel who threw his lantern. The blaze grew rapidly – it had been a dry summer and there was too much straw here – and they fled into the darkened alleys as the hungry flames crawled up the building that was the Auditore ancestral home.

Father led him through the back streets and alleys that were a veritable maze. They paused briefly to dress his wounds – Gabriel could not help but to notice how hot his father’s skin was – and then pressed on, evading the watch with almost casual ease. To his surprise, Father angled not for the gates, but rather the docks where he entered a darkened warehouse that jutted out over the river. Inside, there were several boats of varying size and he pointed to a small skiff clearly meant for but a few. Into the boat, Father tossed several items taken from various hiding places within the warehouse – several oilskin cloaks, a heavy bag that had the look of traveling supplies, several long poles that Gabriel thought to be for fishing – and then climbed in awkwardly.

“Keep low and silent,” he ordered once they had both donned the darkened cloaks. He pushed them away from where they had been moored and the fast-moving current carried them free. Rowing was not necessary, not with the flow of the river so swift, and with the moon high in the sky, they raced to western river-gate. It was closed, of course, but only for large vessels – a small fisherman’s boat like this was easily maneuvered through the narrow gaps. There was even a watchman who did not bother stirring from where he crouched atop the river-gate, though Gabriel suspected the man was actually asleep.

Gabriel looked back as Craine fell away from view. The adrenaline and the terror were beginning to wane, leaving only a frightened, cold boy of fourteen. Father was murmuring something that had the sound of a prayer and Gabriel was suddenly struck by how tired the man looked.

Put away your childhood, he told himself. Raphael, his elder brother, now a score of months dead, had told him to do that once, and the words rang true. Yes. It was time to become a man.

“I can steer,” he told his father as he crept toward the tiller. He knew only the basics of boatmanship, but right now, they were simply allowing the current to carry them. “You should rest, Father.” It was only logical.

Because they had a long way to go.

Defeat. It was bitter and cruel, stinging far worse than any of the new mended wounds he’d suffered. His muscles were stiff and the ache in his chest still made breathing difficult, but the worst part was knowing how badly he’d failed. He should have died. And why? Because he was a fool who did not retreat when he should have. The terrain had been against him – mobility was his primary weapon and that rutting swamp had robbed him of that – and had he but a lick of sense, he would have faded back into the weeds to strike at a time of his choosing. Gah. Gabriel spat, grimacing at the sharp stab of pain that lanced through his torso as he did. He’d been warned – Mendel told him that the stiffness would be with him for a few hours, adding that it was a small price to pay for one’s life while eyeing the older scars that decorated Gabriel’s torso with curiosity; thankfully, the monk held his tongue and asked no questions.

Rainald’s booming voice echoed across the boat – he was in a fine mood after successfully negotiating them out of an untenable situation – but Gabriel paid no attention to the words as he stared at the water stretching out before them. He should have died. His stomach coiled and twisted at the impotent rage swimming there – dying did not frighten him, but being helpless? Being unable to do anything to hurry death along or prevent it? That chilled him.

And it was not the first time.

SkyrimReach1

Three Years Ago

He hated snow.

Bitter cold air froze his breath as he led Cometes up through the narrow mountain pass – this was the quickest route to his destination, the tiny village that one of Zabka’s associates lorded over, but Gabriel was already reconsidering this particular plan. He had already killed a half dozen of the renegade bishop’s men – they claimed to be members of something called the Order of Talos, though he’d yet to learn exactly what that was yet – and all of the information he’d obtained pointed here … but now, with his rage no longer hot, he had to admit that it was too convenient, too easy. This far north, this high in the mountains, at this time of year? Only a fool would take this path. A fool or a madman. He wondered which one he was.

Snow crunched underfoot as he continued up the pass – it had widened into an actual road earlier, then narrowed down to little more than a footpath before once more becoming a trail large enough for carts – and Gabriel shivered. Tugging his cloak tight, he gave the road ahead a quick look before clambering up into the saddle. Cometes gave him a foul look but he ignored it as he continued to shiver. He’d already removed his armor – it wasn’t properly insulated for this kind of weather – but with the metal corselet safely stored in the saddlebags, he felt naked, vulnerable, exposed.

The ambush came without warning.

With barely a sound, the two shooters fired their crossbows and, barely a heartbeat later, the twin bolts slammed home into Gabriel’s torso. The impact tore a surprised gasp from him even as his muscles spasmed and he fell from Cometes’ back, smashing into the dirt with another bruising impact that ripped the breath right out of him. Cometes startled and then sprang forward, reacting with animal instincts to a sudden attack, and within seconds, the horse was out of sight, hooves thundering. Gabriel thought he heard a man’s voice cry out in surprise, but the sharp agony stabbing through him ripped coherence away.

Get up! he screamed at himself, but his body refused to obey. He knew the shooters would be here in moments – if they were wise, they were reloading their weapons before advancing – but the pain … dear God, the pain … Long moments passed before he was able to blink away the shock and by then, he could hear the sound of men moving through the trees. There was no way he could get to his feet and defend against them, not now, not in his condition. But there were alternatives to fighting …

By the time the two woodsmen came into sight, Gabriel had burrowed slightly into a snow drift, ignoring the cold and wet that accompanied the snow. He’d flipped the elven cloak over his body and concentrated on its magics. Instantly, a wave of fatigue coursed through him as the enchantments drain vitality from him, and on top of the agony in his chest, it was almost enough to make him groan. He bit it back though, even as he slid Angrist out of its sheathe and gripped the knife tightly.

“Do you see him?” one of the shooters asked. He was an ugly man, with wide features and squinty eyes. From his accent, he was Megalan, but the crossbow and the cut of his clothes were pure Caithness.

“I saw him fall,” his cohort muttered in response. He was younger than the other man and without the unattractive features, but the black scowl on his face made him nearly as ugly. They drew closer – Gabriel tightened his hold on his knife even as the cold seeped through his clothes and his body trembled – but neither appeared to be looking in his direction at the moment. The uglier of the two leaned over the sharp drop and grimaced.

“Think he went over?” he asked. “That’s a long fall.”

“Well I did not see him on that damned horse,” the other man grumbled. He stepped closer to the first who was still peering over the ledge. “Mayhap you should look for him down there.”

And then, he pushed the ugly man over the edge.

There was no warning – the older man was as surprised as Gabriel – and the victim of this unexpected shove had just enough time to yelp with shock before he vanished. Gabriel could hear a bone-cracking thud, and then another, and then … silence. The younger man leaned forward slightly, his expression creased in satisfaction as he watched his victim vanish.

“Your wife says hello,” the man said with a sneer. He glanced around quickly, clearly trying to locate Gabriel, but glowered when found nothing. A moment later, he glanced back in the direction that Cometes had gone before quickly kicking one of the snow drifts over the side – it was the closest to where his former ambusher had stood. Thunder raced up the trail and, heartbeats later, three horsemen appeared. Two were clearly just muscle, but the third had the innate arrogance of a nobleman. This man gave the clearing a look before frowning.

“Where is Gaius?” he demanded.

“He went over the side, my lord,” the ambusher quickly said as he ducked his head. “I was over there,” he added, pointing in Gabriel’s general direction. “And I heard him call out but by the time I got here, he was gone.”

“And the assassin?” The noble edged his horse closer to the lip and stood up in the saddle so he could peer over the side. “What of him?” He nodded toward where the ugly man went over. “Did he do this?”

“I … I don’t know, my lord.” The murderer glanced around, his eyes darting, and through the fog of pain, Gabriel realized that the man was looking for him. “It happened so fast, my lord…”

“He might have been on that horse, my lord,” one of the noble’s guards said. “We should continue pursuit of it.”

“I saw no one in the saddle,” the noble declared angrily. “And no horse is that fast when carrying a rider.”

“This assassin is said to possess elf gifts that make him invisible, my lord,” the other guard said.

“Find him,” the noble snapped. He pinned the first man, the one who had pushed his companion over the side, with a fierce look. “Find Gaius’ body,” he ordered. “If the assassin killed him, then mayhap Gaius took the bastard with him.” To the other two he looked. “Find the horse. Kill it or capture, I care not. But if the assassin is there, kill him.” With an angry flick of his reins, he kicked his horse into a trot.

“Arrogant bastard,” one of the guards muttered. “I hope the assassin finds him first.” He reined his own horse around. “I’ll give you a ride to the bottom,” he said to the ambusher who nodded before giving the woods another brief, worried glance. The three were gone moments later, leaving Gabriel alone.

He remained where he was hidden for a long time, both unable and unwilling to move from concealment. The cold snow seeped into his very bones, and his vision blurred out. Darkness beckoned and he was unable to keep it at bay.

How long he was unconscious, he didn’t know but when he woke, his entire body was trembling from the cold. With a groan that he could not stop, Gabriel forced uncooperative limbs to function and climbed slowly to his feet. He tried to sheathe Angrist but his shaking hands made it difficult. The sun had already dropped at least partially behind far distant peaks, casting ominous shadows across the trail. Gabriel limped toward the treeline. Within minutes, he found the sniper’s nest from where the two men had shot him – it was little more than some raised bushes behind which a depression had been dug, but it would do.

Removing the crossbow bolts was a new agony and he passed out at least twice before finally succeeding. Binding the wounds with scraps torn from his shirt was just as difficult and when he slumped back against the dirt, so thoroughly exhausted that he could not move, Gabriel wondered how he could get out of this. If Cometes had not fled, he could have used that remaining healing potion he’d bought some time back. It wouldn’t be quite enough to restore him to full health, but it would at least be adequate so he could think straight. No matter. Thinking straight was not important at the moment. Only action. With another grimace, he forced himself upright once more. Cometes had gone that way so he needed to follow. Follow and find a way to avoid getting killed. He grimaced at the difficulty in placing one foot in front of the other – sharp stabs of agony coursed through his torso with each step – but he did not stop. He could not stop. Not until he had justice.

Gabriel clung to that thought as he limped his way through the woods.

Dramatis Personæ

Brother Mendel (Herodian)
Dane Sardock (Winston)
Gabriel Auditore (Rigil Kent)
Gestlin the Unpredictable (CommJunkee)
Magnifico the Clown (Herodian, for Feste)
Rainald North-Hammer (Gigermann)


bs-journey2

Of Pirates and Soldiers

14 Apr 2014

bs-64-screen2With little time to think things through before the ambushers repositioned themselves, Gabriel and Rainald got a long running start and launched themselves as far out as they could into the river. Gabriel, the best swimmer among the Heroes, executed a perfect dive and made quickly for the shore, while Rainald entered the water rather clumsily, and had a bit of a hard time getting himself sorted before he finally made progress toward the riverbank. Gestlin, holding an Exploding Fireball, and Dane, his bow, scanned the shoreline for clear targets; they could see little but shadows for the trees and undergrowth that veiled the enemy’s movements. Gabriel reached the shore well before Rainald, and hauled himself into the long grass that dominated the land here, creeping forward as quickly as the terrain would allow, in an attempt to get a view of their attackers; he slid behind a tree and activated his Elvish Hunter’s Cloak, making him practically invisible in the shadows there. He could see the enemy just ahead, moving together as a unit, as a “voice” commanded them to form a shield wall; Gabriel could make out crossbows in the rank behind the shields and spears—these were not mere brigands, but trained soldiers. As the enemy was forming up, Gestlin saw just enough through the trees from his elevated position on the ship, and let fly the Explosive Fireball he had been holding; it landed amidst the formation, but the enemy was undeterred—disciplined; this would be no easy fight. Gabriel attempted to sneak around to the flank of the formation as quickly as he could through the slog of mud and swamp-grass, but was miraculously spotted by the “Voice,” who alerted the formation to his presence. Meanwhile, Gestlin cast Walk on Air upon Rainald, who, as he swam furiously forward, found himself climbing out of the water. Rainald pushed back his initial shock, got to his feet, and charged forward, just above the height of the tall grass. Brother Mendel crafted a Complex Illusion, making himself appear larger and louder, wreathed in flame, swearing Doom upon the ambushers, but the enemy took little notice of the display, being focused on the fighters before them by their commander. The “Voice” alerted his men to the presence of Gestlin, now high in the air and closing, as a result of another Walk on Air spell; another Fireball was loosed down upon the formation, but the soldiers held fast, firing their crossbows as they had opportunity, passing empty weapons to the rear as loaded weapons were passed forward. bs-64-screen1Gabriel, having arrived at the flank of the formation, found himself engaged with enemy spearmen while tangled in a nasty thicket that proved itself the enemy’s ally; Gabriel took a bodkin-point through his cuirasse, but struggled on. Rainald finally joined the fray, and after pausing to take a bolt or two in his shield, charged over the formation, intent on hitting the crossbowmen to the rear. Rainald and Gabriel both spotted the “Voice” emerging from the trees behind the formation, a giant of a man bearing a massive greatsword; the enemy’s captain spotted Rainald flying over his shield-wall and recognized him, calling out his name in surprise. But Gabriel and Rainald did not yet recognize the man in return; Gabriel continued to struggle through the thicket as Rainald spiraled down from above to the rear of the formation. The enemy captain took a receiving stance, demanding the Heroes lay down their weapons or face death. Gabriel attempted to attack the man, but thanks to the enemy thicket, he not only failed to connect, but caught a heavy blow to the ribs that dropped him to the ground. Perhaps it was something in the way the massive soldier swung the greatsword with such grace that caught Rainald’s attention, for he was reminded that this mountain of a man before him was an ally of Wallace from the Huallapan Crusade, Sir Rodham Malfoy. As Gabriel crawled out of the greatsword’s range, bleeding profusely and clinging to consciousness, a very confused Rainald and desperate Sir Rodham continued to posture and threaten one another until Rainald, in a moment of clarity, demanded to know what all this was about before the former-allies ended up killing one another for no good reason. When Sir Rodham declared that he was after the ship’s cargo, Rainald understood the situation, and offered to parley; Sir Rodham agreed, and commanded his men to stand down, then Rainald bellowed, “PARLEY!” for the others’ benefit—Brother Mendel was levitated halfway across the river at that point, and Gestlin was about to cast Walk on Air on Dane, who had yet to even lay eyes on the enemy.

The fight now ceased, Rainald told Sir Rodham that there was no cargo to speak of aboard the ship, but that he could see for himself; Sir Rodham demanded they disarm, but when Rainald swore an oath that the man would not be harmed, he relented and sent his men to fetch a boat, and to bind Gabriel’s wounds—Gabriel would remain ashore as a hostage.

bs-malfoySir Rodham Malfoy was a landed knight of Donlis, and Lord-Commander of the Iron Lancers, who had proven themselves very capable during the Crusade against the Vasa. But he was dishonored after the last battle of the Crusade, when he ordered his men to come to the aid of Lord Wallace as he had promised, in defiance of orders given by Krandall Marsden, Lord of Donlis and Lathan Redbeard, Lord of Redhall, to remain in the village of Tooktook. Afterward, Lord Donlis swore that there would be dire consequences, and upon their return to Caithness, Sir Rodham was stripped of his titles and lands. Destitute, living with his family at a monastery, Sir Rodham returned from a hunt one day to find his wife and young son murdered, hanging from a tree. Sir Boris Marsden, son of Lord Donlis, had hung a distinctive coin ’round Sir Rodham’s wife’s neck as a taunt; Sir Rodham hunted down and killed Sir Boris, stringing him up on a tree by his own entrails. Now an outlaw, Sir Rodham and his Iron Lancers lived on what they could take from the river.

The disgraced knight told his tale of woe as they rowed over to the ship, continuing as Rainald and Captain Finn showed him to the hold. He “claimed” the small amount of trade goods there, and Finn agreed that it wasn’t worth fighting over and allowed Sir Rodham’s men to take it. Their “business” concluded, the Heroes told Sir Rodham of their mission to find Lord Wallace, and he admitted he had not seen him pass through this way, but agreed that if he did encounter him later, he would see him returned home. Rainald then promised Sir Rodham that after they found Lord Wallace, or what had become of him, they would return to help Sir Rodham restore his good name and get his revenge, and if they could not, that Lord Wallace would undoubtedly take him in.

bs-craine

bs-craineSeven days later, after the ambush in the Donlis swampland, the Gleaming Endeavor arrived at the confluence of the River Smoke and the River Conn, far inside the Megalan border; the next stop in the Heroes’ journey, Craine, the largest city in Western Megalos, lay just ahead. They berthed the ship at the city’s docks, and paid the usual fees; along with taking on fresh provisions, there was regular maintenance that needed doing, which would take a few days. Gabriel had clearly been to Craine before in his travels; he made a few recommendations on which tavern they should hit first—they made for the Crimson Mug, an establishment frequented by soldiers and mercenaries. Gabriel would join them later, as he needed to take Cometes out for a ride, to stretch his legs. (The others were not aware that he intended to ride past the home where he grew up, here in Craine—Gabriel had never spoken of it.)

The Heroes, and the crew of the Gleaming Endeavor, spent the better part of the day drinking and relaxing, listening to rumors and stories told by the other patrons. A Megalan mercenary staggered over to the Heroes’ corner table; the man took issue with Gabriel, obviously Megalan, hanging out with all these backstabbing Caithnessers—he said something about a raid into Caithness, or by Caithness, and someone getting killed by Caithnessers. Brother Mendel began to defuse the situation with drink(s), as usual, but as the inebriated soldier continued to try to pick a fight, Gestlin caused him to Sleep instead. Perhaps feeling somewhat sorry for the man, some silver was passed to one of the nearby prostitutes, and Rainald carried the sleeping fellow upstairs to her room, leaving him there in her (bored, as he was unconscious) company. A bit later, some other Megalan soldiers at a nearby table were talking about a situation brewing in Al-Wazif, and Bannock in particular, that created an undeniable opportunity to retake the city for Megalos; Rainald brought a round of drinks to their table and joined them for a while, coaxing out the details, as he was “looking for mercenary work.” Meanwhile, there had been a couple of minstrels playing on opposite sides of the room, but during a break, Magnifico took advantage of the lull to play and sing himself, a new song he had written about the deeds of Lord Wallace; the song was well-received by the patrons, drawing calls for more, and more than one round of free drinks, but this time, no accounts of encounters with Lord Wallace here. Then, as the day drew down, the Heroes and the crew made arrangements to lodge for the night, eager for a night in a bed that didn’t sway with the waves.


Notes

  • Magnifico’s player was out this week; the character was taken up by Herodian in his stead when called for
  • Rainald was using a default Swimming skill of 8, and I had little confidence that he would make the swim in any reasonable amount of time (if at all), but I was committed to the action already; as it turned out, after swallowing some water and 5 seconds of flailing about, he managed to get moving in spite of it. He will be getting a point in Swimming this time, though—not suffering that again
  • All the party members (except Gestlin, who is new) had received a Hunter’s Cloak, a gift from the Elves of Harkwood in the latter days of Book I; these are not self-powered, so they require FP expenditure on the part of the weilder to activate
  • Gabe’s player had a really bad day at the dice, combined with some regrettable choices in his angle of approach; he was at ½-¼ Move/Dodge for the entire fight, and made a lot of bad rolls on top of that, to add insult to injury. C’est le jeu
  • Once again we really should have backed off and evaluated the tactical situation rather than charge madly and disorderly into the fray—it could easily have gone far worse, and Sir Rodham is no joke with that greatsword. On the other hand, if we had beaten them soundly and/or killed Sir Rodham, it really would have been a shame, in retrospect, given the sympathetic nature of his story. In any case, I still want to know if Rainald could have beaten him in single combat…we may do a test-fight later, just to see

Dramatis Personæ

Brother Mendel (Herodian)
Gabriel Auditore (Rigil Kent)
Gestlin the Unpredictable (CommJunkee)
Magnifico the Clown (Feste)
Rainald North-Hammer (Gigermann)


bs-journey1

Of Comedies and Tragedies

7 Apr 2014

bs-koggeThe Heroes arose early the next morning, and were treated to a generous breakfast meal by their host. After they had eaten, Master Cray bade them ask of him what they would; the only thing they could think to need beside the ship already provided was a decent map covering the lands they were to journey through. A servant fetched a purse for Master Cray, and they left straightaway for the Simonton docks, to a well-known mapmaker there. Once some suitable maps were procured, Master Cray escorted the Heroes to the Gleaming Endeavor and introduced them to the captain, a gruff, grey-haired man called Finn, with whom they made arrangements for the immediate loading of their things. Most decided to sell their horses, though Gabriel would not part with Cometes (to none’s surprise); Rainald decided to leave his very-strong horse, Greyfell, with Master Cray, to keep until their return. Captain Finn was already informed about Gestlin’s wagon, though it was a bit bigger than he was prepared for; they decided to remove the wheels and axles, and lashed it to the deck. Captain Finn was not informed of the presence of the two dragons before, and balked at the idea of bringing them along; he insisted they be caged, but Magnifico soothed his fears with some circus tricks to prove their discipline, and the Captain relented that they should be kept on a leash instead, sleeping atop the wagon as usual. The Captain introduced his crew, including Shaun, Tully, and two dark-skinned fellows, brothers, named Bombatta and Zuba; he had to let some of his people go to make room for his passengers, and insisted that any among the Heroes who were able should help out—Rainald volunteered without hesitation, having quite a bit of experience with small sailing vessels; the others all followed suit as well, offering whatever service they were good for. They immediately went to work helping with the loading of provisions and such, including a deer or two for the dragons, and were under way before noon.

bs-finn

That evening, the Captain invited the Heroes to his cabin for supper, and as they ate, he discussed the particulars of the journey: he expected around two weeks before they would reach Craine, in Megalos, where they would take on provisions, though they would stop along the way for fresh water and such. He then inquired about the Heroes’ mission, and what his part was expected to be; they decided they had nothing to hide, and told him of the facts known regarding Lord Wallace’s disappearance. Captain Finn suggested that Lord Wallace might have been taken captive by Wazifi slavers at the Sa’azaraq Straits, though none were aware of any ransom demands, which suggested Wallace might be keeping his identity secret.

Satisfied with what he’d been told, and noting Magnifico’s appearance as an entertainer, Captain Finn suggested he entertain the crew for the evening. Atop the aft-castle, Magnifico played out the story of the Heroes’ adventures together before and during the Huallapan Crusade, greatly embellished for dramatic effect, enhanced as in the old days by Brother Mendel’s magical illusory illustration. The Captain and the crew were greatly impressed, such that they were excited to be a part of this new adventure alongside them.

Several days later the Gleaming Endeavor arrived at the river-town of Donlis toward the evening, and stopped there for the night. The Heroes decided to take their ease at a somewhat-higher class of establishment this time; Magnifico had a plan to do some entertaining there, and win the crew a free round of drinks. He strode brazenly up to the tavern’s proprietor and announced his intentions; though the man was disinclined at first, Magnifico smooth-talked him into allowing him to entertain the patrons. Once again, Magnifico played out the Heroes’ story, with Brother Mendel’s illustration, and now with the crew of the Gleaming Endeavor to cheer him on as well—he even worked the crew into the story, though they were not originally there. But Magnifico had a hidden agenda; he made certain to focus on Lord Wallace’s participation in their adventures, such that someone who might have seen him recently might recognize him—and so it was, that one of the tavern patrons declared that he knew that man, Wallace. Again, at the end, Magnifico’s talents were rewarded with the praise of his audience, and many rounds of drink as he had intended. Rainald took the occasion to speak to the man who had said he had seen Lord Wallace, and extracted his story: this man was among the crew of the barge that Lord Wallace had taken from Simonton, and had been with him for some weeks, before the barge turned back at Bannock, as was their schedule—the barge was not seaworthy, and could not cross Keyhole Bay—he last saw Lord Wallace at Bannock, and had heard nothing more since.

bs-gladesriver

After a pleasant evening, the Heroes and the crew returned to the ship and set sail once again. Downriver of Donlis was a vast, shallow swampland, treacherous to navigate without a local guide, but the Captain had oft sailed these waters and knew them well. A day or so later, a body was spotted in the reeds near the riverbank, shot in the back with arrows, and not long dead by the look of it. They fished the body out of the river, and Brother Mendel cast a spell to Speak with the Dead, learning only that the dead man’s boat had been attacked from the riverbank by a hail of arrows before he had perished. Though piracy in these parts was not unusual, they normally let go their prey, taking only the cargo—the Captain agreed they should be wary, and all donned their armor. Soon after, they spied a column of smoke in the distance, and as they crept carefully forward down the river, they came upon the burning, half-sunk wreck of a riverboat—it bore a harpoon stuck deep in the rear quarter, the line cut. Seeing no sign of ambush, they continued past the wreck. Ahead, Brother Mendel and Gabriel spied what appeared to be rope below the water’s surface spanning the width of the river—a trap, meant to tear the rudder from the ship’s keel, by Gabriel’s reckoning. Captain Finn acted quickly, commanding the crew to drop the anchor and bring the ship to a full-stop; the ship strained at the line and drifted with the current, swinging ’round astern to rest a few paces before the trap. Gestlin charged up a large Fireball and blasted a log on the bank where the ropes were attached, throwing spray and splinters high into the air. Magnifico commanded Primus and Secundus to fly, and they circled wide overhead. The others scrambled about the deck to face their invisible attackers. Then, as Gestlin charged up another Fireball, someone spotted movement some distance ahead in the trees along the riverbank—men approaching, undoubtedly the pirates—and they all prepared to do battle.


Notes

  • Winston was AWOL this week; fortunately Dane wasn’t truly needed, though he definitely will be next time
  • Cometes is Gabriel’s Animal Ally, an exceptional white horse—obviously he would be going along no matter what; similarly, Gestlin’s wagon is a signature item (literally?), and would not be left behind
  • Magnifico’s player ended up rolling a “5” for both performances, plus assistance bonus from Mendel; needless to say his story was well received. The combination of Magnifico’s storytelling and Mendel’s illusions hails from the Book I adventures; anytime someone needed to be told what happened before, we’d break out the “newsreel footage”
  • There was a bit of discussion at the end about how best to clear 20yds of river to the bank, to get the fighters to land to deal with the enemy; Gabriel is an excellent swimmer, but Rainald is most definitely not (he’s at default), as is Radskyrta. At the end, we were prepared to jump as far as we could to get some distance, but success is far from certain—maybe a better plan will emerge before next session

Auqui. Why did Magnifico have to reference the boy in this blasted tale of his? Laughter and joy exploded around him as the tiny crew of the Gleaming Endeavor clapped and cheered while the hunchback bard wove his saga of heroism and glory, but Gabriel was already slipping away into the shadows. Surely there was some place on this boat where he could hide himself away from the accusing whispers that even now burned in his ears…

WhitehallTower

Five Weeks Ago

One could not reach Whitehall Tower without intentionally seeking it out.

Situated in a fairly remote part of Wallace lands, it was nestled just inside the borders, where the mountains of the north ended and the Great Desert loomed. Politically, it was very likely a part of Tacitus territory, or perhaps even Ginnrel, but neither cared to claim it due to the difficulty required in traveling there. Decades earlier, a knight flush with gold had decided to erect a mighty fortress in this far distant location, no matter that his closest friends and allies alike urged him otherwise. Stonemasons, dwarven and human alike, gladly accepted his coin and construction of the castle began atop a rocky hill that was just short of being a small mountain. When the knight’s coin rand dry, only the bare essentials had been erected, which turned out to be the keep itself. There was no wall to stop besiegers, but in truth, the location itself held no strategic value whatsoever so such defensive fortifications were unnecessary.

The knight died penniless and alone – it was nigh on a year after his passing before anyone ventured to that lonely hall and learned of his death – and the Tower passed back into the hands of lords of Wallace. Four times in the last score of years it had been bequeathed upon knights, but all of them passed without heirs (or, in one instance, squandered their inheritance so thoroughly that the Lord was forced to strip him of his rank), and in that time, it became synonymous with loss.

Gabriel Auditore, knight-errant in the service of Lord Wallace, was the latest to be called its master.

When Malcolm gifted it to him, the lord did so knowing full well that it was exactly the kind of place Gabriel longed for. Difficult to find and far from the comforts of civilization, it would allow him to focus entirely upon his art, to deepen his mastery of the sword without having to concern himself with unexpected travelers or guests. There was game enough in the surrounding environs to live off and Lord Wallace believed his new knight wise enough to stock plentiful stores to keep from starving. Having witnessed Gabriel’s capability with a blade – indeed, he had learned a few things himself from the young blademaster – Malcolm even considered the possibility that, some day, would-be swordsmen might come to Whitehall Tower seeking personal instruction from a true master. The name itself seemed a good omen and if truthful, he would have admitted to enjoying the thought of dragon-marked warriors sworn to the service of his land.

What he had not factored was Auqui.

*

His entire body ached as he led Cometes up the rocky road leading to Whitehall, but Gabriel tried very hard to ignore the discomfort.

The air was crisp this early in the year, and he suddenly regretted turning down Rainald’s offer to stay for one more day. His old friend had been disappointed and perhaps a trifle confused, but Gabriel quickly diverted the big man’s attention by asking a leading question about the Northman’s encounter with the witches. Hildra had given her husband a strange look – it was equal parts amusement, disbelief, frustration and anger – and the two promptly fell to arguing in their native tongue which sounded like so much gibberish to him, thus allowing Gabriel to make good his escape and set off before noon. He hated lying to Rainald, but he had no plans to discuss Auqui and the Northman had never learned when to let things go.

So he fled. It was, he mused darkly, the thing he was most capable of doing.

With each step that brought him closer to Whitehall, the heavier the weight upon his shoulders seemed to be. Cometes nudged his trailing hand a few times and he patted his old friend affectionately. This was no place for an animal like him. There were few places for him to run or stretch his legs and, if it did not make him feel sick inside at the very thought, Gabriel would have turned the charger out to pasture years ago. The elves had once agreed to take the Cometes in, saying that he was clearly of elvish stock, and the day was soon coming where the horse simply could not live the life Gabriel asked of him.

They crested a slight hill and he paused, staring bleakly at Whitehall Tower as it squatted on that hilltop. Nothing had changed in the seven years since he’d left. A tiny part of him had almost wished the whole thing had crumbled away into dust – he’d be far happier camping atop its ruins than facing the memories waiting inside – but he was never so lucky. Even the limp cloth standard atop the tower itself still twisted in the wind, though harsh weather had stripped it threadbare and robbed it of color. Shaking his head, he glanced at Cometes.

“We could not be so fortunate, could we?” he asked wryly. The charger glanced at him, then at the tower, and finally at the long, uneven road that led to the hilltop before heavily blowing out his breath. Gabriel smiled. “I know,” he said softly.

They reached the almost-fortress several hours before dusk, though the surrounding peaks caused the sky to darken much quicker than normal. There was no snow on the ground even this close to winter, for which he was relieved, but still, the temperature was far from comfortable. After seeing to Cometes – the charger gave him a foul look once he was done and snapped Gabriel with his tail – he paced around the empty living quarters with a lantern. Echoes of the past chased him through each of the rooms – here, he’d admonished Auqui for slacking off with his lessons, there he’d had Kira for the first time, and over there … over there, Auqui had tried very, very hard to kill him. That was the breaking point, though he did not know it at the time. Instead, he’d foolishly believed that Auqui was simply being a child when he should have been a man.

He spent the hours before the sun completely vanished from the sky cleaning up the debris that was his home. Much of it was animal waste – in his absence, it seemed that more than a few of the local creatures had used Whitehall as nests or warrens – but there was also quite a bit of old detritus from before things fell apart that needed to be discarded. He only had a few weeks of supplies, but then, he’d never intended to stay long this time. By the time he was done, Gabriel was filthy and even more exhausted than before, but he knew sleep would not come easily, not here, not while the ghosts of his past continued to lurk in the shadows.

Despite the chill breeze, he took a seat in the center of the wide training circle, hugging his cloak tight, and wondered where he went wrong.

Morning found him in the same spot, though this time, he was stripped to the waist, barefoot and holding his father’s sword in one hand. Sunlight glittered off the speckled bands of color that were the two dragon-marks crawling up his forearms, though Gabriel was so accustomed to them now that he barely noticed. He walked through the first cycle of swordforms at half speed, reminding his muscles of what he wished of them. Once he was done, he would increase the pace and repeat the cycle, and then do so again. On good mornings, he would add a fourth or even a fifth cycle.

“Why are you holding me back?” Auqui’s voice chased him from the past. Gabriel frowned. Parting the Silk became Ribbon in the Air.

“You are holding yourself back, Student,” Gabriel murmured along with his memory self. It had been a common argument in those days – the boy was insistent that there was some secret technique Gabriel was not teaching him and seemed incapable of grasping that the truth was simply rooted in his lack of patience. Repetition and practice were what was needed, but Auqui did not want to wait. “You hear my instructions but you do not listen to them.” River of Light flowed into The Rose Unfolds. That was always a tricky transition.

“What does that even mean?” Anger was in Auqui’s so clear voice, anger and frustration. He was having difficulty moving to the next level of sword-mastery, which was understandable. Few swordsmen ever managed to do so – it had taken Gabriel nearly five years to pass that threshold himself – and, no matter that he was better with a blade than most men in Caithness, the boy wanted more. Patience was something he simply refused to comprehend. That was not the whole of it, of course. There was Kira and Auqui’s infatuation with her, despite the fact that she was nearly twice his age and warming Gabriel’s bed, and though Gabriel did not know it at the time, there were also Zabka’s treacherous whispers. “You speak to me in riddles when you should be teaching me!” Auqui snarled when Gabriel tried to urge patience again. The boy had attacked then, in fury, and without even trying to explain himself. They’d dueled numerous times before, though never before had one of them been intentionally trying to harm the other.

Watered Silk met Bundling Straw. Without realizing it, Gabriel refought the battle with his erstwhile apprentice, his feet automatically falling into the same places they had so very long ago. The Branch in the Storm knocked aside The Lion Springs. Auqui had been quick, quicker than any man with a sword that Gabriel had encountered in a decade and had he not realized his student was trying very hard to kill him, he would have been much pleased with the boy’s progress. Willow Embracing the Breeze met a flawless Black Pebbles on Snow. Gabriel recalled the anger that flickered across the void of cool serenity he’d floated in and, to his continuing shame, he remembered going on the offensive, intent on showing this boy how much he still had to learn. Rain in High Wind sent Auqui stumbling backward, Ribbon in the Air nearly killed him, and Snow in High Wind left bloody tears across his chest. The boy rallied – he attacked with a perfect sequence of The Wood Grouse Dances to River of Light, but as always, his impatience led him to ruin, and Gabriel slid away before countering with Soft Rain at Sunset. Blood splashed and Auqui screamed out in surprise and pain. He fell, dropping his sword as his hands automatically went to the vicious cut upon his face. Even then, Gabriel knew the boy would carry that scar to the end of his days.

“You are not ready, boy,” he’d hissed angrily.

“You are not ready,” he repeated in a hushed whisper, seven years later.

But there was no one there to listen.

Gabriel drew a deep breath, held it for a long moment, then exhaled slowly. He returned to the initial ready stance and began anew.

*

For three days, he labored alone, alternating between hours with the sword, practicing each sword form until his muscles ached, and returning his house to something vaguely resembling order. He raked out the small stable – for which Cometes gave him a powerful snort and a tail flick that was just shy of an actual attack – swept out all of the rooms, and even patched the roofs of all three buildings, a task he frankly loathed no matter how necessary it was.

Rainald found him there, on the third day, sweating and frustrated and aching at the strange physical contortions that had been necessary to reach certain spots on the roof. The big Northerner led his ugly horse into the courtyard and had just finished removing the saddle by the time Gabriel managed to climb down from the roof.

“You look miserable, my friend,” Rainald said with his booming laugh. He offered a skin of wine and Gabriel accepted it gratefully.

“I did not know you were coming,” he remarked once he’d slaked his thirst. Rainald grinned.

“You’ve seen my home,” the Northerner said, “so I thought I would do the same.” He glanced around. “Rather remote, is it not?” he asked with a frown.

“It suits me,” Gabriel replied simply, though they both knew that was a lie. He would not be able to stay here for very long. The wanderlust would kick in once more.

“You missed a runner from Wallace when you left,” Rainald said. He fumbled through his saddlebags for a folded parchment bearing the seal of Wallace and handed it over without bothering to look at it. Frowning, Gabriel studied it for a moment before glancing up. “Lord Malcolm’s wife calls for us,” the Northerner said. “I told the messenger boy that I would track you down and bring you with me.”

“You are confident of your skills, old friend,” Gabriel said with a wry smile as he tore open the parchment and scanned the contents. So, Malcolm needed help again. Was there no end to his foolery?

“You dance well enough, but one mighty blow …” Rainald make a noise as he drew his thumb across his neck. Gabriel shook his head and folded the missive up once more.

“To Wallace it is,” he murmured. It was just as well – the ghosts here were far from silent.