# Freeport Forever [3/6 - Company Of Heroes] FINAL UPDATE!



## peteyfrogboy (Aug 24, 2003)

I have wanted to run a city-based campaign for a long time, but the task of creating a city from whole cloth is more than I have the time or ability to undertake. I'd looked at a few city sourcebooks, but never found one that really spoke to me. In all honesty, when _Freeport: City Of Adventure_ spoke to me, it said "I'm 70% off!" so it was hard to resist. After digesting the content of the book, however, I was hooked. Soon after starting the campaign everyone in the gaming group went to see _Pirates of the Caribbean_, which didn't hurt any.

I've tried to run campaigns before, in both published and homebrew worlds, always with limited success. This was something of a last attempt to get a campaign off the ground, so when I created the world around Freeport I threw every idea I had ever had into it. The world outside of Freeport itself is only roughly defined and primarily exists to give a cultural context. The specifics can be found here. I've changed a few things here and there and added a whole lot of people, places, and organizations. I decided against using gunpowder -- it's bad enough just having wizards around without having to worry about everybody else blowing stuff up.

The campaign began in a piecemeal fashion. In fact, to this point there hasn't been a single session with all characters present. More on that later. One of the joys of a city based campaign is that I can easily leave people out of a particular adventure without having to spend lots of time getting everybody back together again.

Anyway, on to the story!


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## peteyfrogboy (Aug 24, 2003)

*Beginnings*

The _Silver Wind_ sat low in the water beside the pier. Since her launch six months ago, she had been through a lot. Her maiden voyage from Freeport to the distant lands of the Far West was a success, however. Her hold was loaded with spices, silk, and other exotic goods.

In addition to trade goods, the explorers had returned with a new crew member. Gambumbo Weego joined the crew to replace the ship's cook who went missing during their resupply stop at one of the many small islands in the middle of the Astra Ocean. He had taken to his new duties easily, keeping the ship fed during the last two months before they reached Freeport. There had been no losses among the crew due to hunger or malnutrition, though a couple of them had apparently gone overboard in the night.

Gambumbo descended the gangplank along with the rest of the crew. He stood out from his fellows, his sun-baked and tattooed face outside of even the broad diversity of Ahandrian coloration. As he reached the bottom of the ramp he was greeted by Captain Kayleigh Harrington with her thanks and a heavy pouch of coin. Gambumbo favored her with his unnerving sharp-toothed smile as he received his wages and headed into the city.

After a visit to the market, he walked north to explore more of the city. Soon enough he found himself alone on a small side street. He never heard the footsteps approching behind him, nor the sap swinging toward his skull...

***

Parika leaped off the ship before it had even stopped moving. Two weeks aboard with nothing but cattle and the captain for company was enough. Fortunately for her, the captain was too old to act on any of his lecherous thoughts and the crew had been too busy. The price had been right, though, and she had made it to Freeport with most of her savings intact.

Freeport was far different from the sprawling cities she was used to in Ahandria. Everything here seemed to be squeezed together, with many buildings two or even three stories tall. At least the crowds of people were familiar to her. For the first time in her life, though, she didn't feel self-conscious about the fey features she had inherited from her father. There were Ahandrians, Morils, Kufriti, Tavians, even Dhevrils and Wildermen here in the throng. Stranger still, she saw a variety of non-humans of all shapes and sizes. No one spared them a passing glance, not even the orcs.

She reflexively checked her coin purse before joining the morning street traffic. Her first order of business was to find some real food. More or less at random, she wandered inland a block or so and ended up at the Black Gull. The place was mostly empty, with only a few bleary eyed sailors trying to recall (or forget) the events of the previous night. Parika ordered herself a bowl of stew and wine and retired to a corner table.

With a long sigh, the half-elf allowed herself to relax a little. Everything she had ever known was now six hundred miles away across the Dragon Sea. The parents who had abandoned her, the orphanage and its depraved priests, even the city streets where she had learned to fend for herself. Like so many others before, Parika saw Freeport as a fresh start. This was a place where she could finally pursue her own dreams.

The exact nature of those dreams was still somewhat vague. The easy domestic life held little appeal. Parika wanted to be in control of her own life, but she had no faith in traditional authority figures. The only people in power that she had any respect for were the crime bosses who ruled over the city streets. They were dishonest by definition, of course, but at least they didn't pretend to be virtuous. The trick, of course, was that she didn't know exactly how to begin a great career in crime.

As she ate her breakfast, the half-elf took in her surroundings. Aside from the barkeep and his pet raven, the place seemed to consist solely of sailors. Not really the best source of information on the local underworld. In all likelihood, they knew as little about Freeport as she did. Just as she was about to leave, however, someone came through the door who caught her eye. 

It would have been hard for the newcomer to contrast more with the rest of the Black Gull's clientele. She wore a gown of blue silk that turned heads as she entered. Her dark hair was in several braids in the Kufriti style, and her features were accentuated by cosmetic skill worthy of any courtesan. Her eyes traversed the room as she gracefully floated toward a table. As she saw Parika, she gave a smile and a tiny nod. Seating herself, the woman in blue signaled the bartender for a pitcher of wine.

Parika was naturally intrigued by this butterfly in a room full of moths. She felt uncomfortable approaching a complete stranger, but at the moment everyone fell into that category. _Nothing ventured, nothing gained_, she told herself as she went to say hello.

"May I join you?" she asked as she came to the woman's table.

The woman in blue looked up and smiled. "Certainly." She gestured to a chair and Parika sat. "I'm waiting for a friend of mine and would appreciate the company." The woman gave Parika a quick, appraising glance. "You're new in town, I presume?"

Parika chuckled uncomfortably. "What gave me away?"

"One doesn't normally find a woman alone in a place like this, at least not at this hour." She thanked the barkeep as he brought her a pitcher and goblet. She poured some of the dark red wine for herself, then offered to refill Parika's cup. The two continued to chat, but as Parika drank she began to have trouble following the conversation. She tried to figure out when her companion would have had a chance to drug her drink, but by that point, logical thought had become impossible.


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## peteyfrogboy (Aug 24, 2003)

*The Welcoming Committee*

Parika woke in the dark. Her head was pounding, but she was otherwise unhurt. She took stock of her situation. She was bound hand and foot on a wooden floor. Her sword and bow were gone, but her hidden daggers and lockpicks seemed to still be in place. She tested her bonds and found them tight but poorly tied. Stretching her fingers, she was able to get enough of a grip to undo the knot on her wrists. After that it was trivial to untie her feet.

Freed, Parika turned to the mystery of her location. She could hear the sounds of people breathing, so she wasn't alone in her predicament. The smell of many bodies mingled with the tang of salt air and another odor that was unpleasant and strong but not easily identifiable. From that information Parika deduced that she really wished she could see anything. She thought she could hear someone speaking from below her, but it was too faint for her to make out any words.

Moving slowly and quietly, she rose from the ground and began to feel her way around the room. Picking her way around bodies -- some of which moved out of her way -- she was able to find a wall. Moving around the room, she found what felt like a boarded up window. She tried to pry one of the boards loose, but was rewarded only with a loud _creak_ that made her freeze in her tracks. The voices below stopped and she heard heavy footfalls from below her. A deep and raspy voice shouted from somewhere below, "Quit movin' around up there or I'll hafta come up an' bust some heads!" A few whimpers could be heard from the other prisoners.

The footsteps returned to where they had been. Parika slowly let out her breath and continued to move around the room. Threat or no threat, she wasn't about to sit around and wait for whatever fate her captors had planned for her. When her circuit of the room was nearly complete, her foot found empty air. Gently probing downward, it seemed to be an open hole in the floor. Further experimentation found it to be about two paces wide by four paces. The room itself was perhaps twenty by thirty feet and littered with debris in addition to people. In her exploration, Parika had found one apparently unconscious prisoner shackled to the wall, as well as an empty pair of iron manacles. The only exit from the room seemed to be the hole in the floor. 

Desperate as she may have been, Parika wasn't about to jump down a hole in pitch darkness without knowing at least how much it was going to hurt. She took a small piece of plaster that had crumbled from the wall and dropped it down the hole. From the sound, it sounded like the fall was no more than ten feet, probably less. Unfortunately, someone else heard the sound as well.

"Right, that's it! Someone's gonna bleed!" The feet came stomping across the room below again, and the sound of something large and wooden being moved could be heard. Parika rushed across the room and lay down behind another prisoner, pretending to be bound and unconscious. Parika tried to breathe evenly as she heard someone ascending a creaky ladder. The sound stopped and Parika counted her heartbeats.

"Somebody was movin' around up here. Who was it?" growled the voice.

The man Parika was hiding behind cried out, "He's over here! Please don't hurt us!" The half-elf kicked him and rose to a crouch, drawing a dagger. Her captor could obviously see in the dark, which put her at an almost suicidal disadvantage, but she had no choice.

Without warning, the room blazed with light. It was no brighter than a torch, but after the pitch dark it was almost painful. In the sudden light Parika could see a large half-orc shielding his eyes from the light. He was standing at the top of a ladder that had been leaned against the top of the hole where stairs had once been. On the other side of the room she saw a dark-skinned man with a tattooed face wearing the stained clothes of a sailor. He was unarmed but moving his hands in a way that suggested that the light was his doing.

Not about to waste her luck, Parika flung her dagger at the half-orc, but her aim was off. He came up the ladder in her direction, but the blast of red light that streaked from Gambumbo's fingers to slam into the side of his head made him change direction. As the murderous halfbreed made his way through the sea of bound prisoners, another face appeared at the top of the ladder. It was almost familiar to Parika, though now her charming breakfast companion had short green hair and blue, scaly skin. The woman tossed a dagger of her own, drawing a line of blood across Gambumbo's thigh. The half-orc finally reached the islander and knocked him to the floor with one blow from his iron-studded club.

Parika knew that club was coming her way next, so she took the initiative and charged into the fray. Showing more courage than she would have given them credit for before, some of the prisoners rolled up against the half-orc's legs, putting him off balance enough to let Parika sink her dagger into his hip. Roaring with rage and streaming blood down his leg, the half-orc smashed the skull of one of the prisoners and disentangled himself, moving away toward the ladder. As he passed Parika, though, she slashed her dagger across the underside of his arm. The weakened half-orc crashed to the floor, bleeding.

Seeing that her partner had been taken out, the blue-skinned woman scurried down the ladder and disappeared. The sound of the ladder clattering to the floor dashed any hopes Parika had for a quick pursuit. She made sure the half-orc would not get up again, then went to see if the islander was still alive. He was unconscious, but in no mortal danger. A cheer went up from the remaining prisoners, and Parika went about the task of freeing them.

Eventually, Parika went down the hole and wrestled the ladder into place, allowing everyone else to descend. All of their possessions were safe downstairs, abandoned by the fleeing kidnapper. Gambumbo was eventually revived, as was the man shackled to the wall. Parika picked the lock on his manacles and he thanked her profusely. His name was Burton Lund, a longshoreman by trade. He had tried to escape earlier but had received nothing but a headache for his troubles. Before he left he told Parika and Gambumbo that he could be found through the Union if they ever needed anything.

Emerging from the run-down house, none of the prisoners were sure where they were, though most guessed by the disrepair and smell that it was somewhere in Scurvytown. They dispersed in small groups, leaving Parika and Gambumbo to find their own way out. The two introduced themselves and decided to stick together for the time being. They picked a direction and started walking. Fortunately for them of all the unsavory characters they could have run into during their tour of the Freebooters' Quarter they found the most harmless: Captain Frick.

Captain Frick was an ancient mariner and ex-pirate whose wealth of stories was exceeded only by his lack of limbs. And perhaps by his desire for drink. For the promise of a pint at the Broken Mug he not only guided them out of Scurvytown but also gave them a general overview of the various districts of the city. Once they reached Frick's watering hole Gambumbo accompanied him inside to help him get marinated. He and Parika agreed to meet back up later at the Black Gull.

DM Notes:
* Yes, this was a big railroad. It was essentially a variation on the "you all get press ganged" trick.
* I originally had the PCs make rolls (to spot the half-orc and resist the poison), but then I realized that they had to fail to move the plot forward. Choo choo!
* The fight with the kidnappers went about how I wanted it, but the rolls started going against the PCs toward the end. I had the prisoners assist near the end as sort of a fudge. It's not cool to have a TPK during your party gathering scenario.
* One of the reasons that things didn't balance out right toward the end was that I had expected four PCs instead of just two. I had also expected at least one fighter type, which I didn't have.


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## peteyfrogboy (Aug 24, 2003)

*Settling In*

Parika rolled over in her bed, smiling as the ropes creaked. She couldn't remember the last time she had slept in a proper bed and she felt no need to cut the experience short. Her further attempts to learn more about the local criminal element the previous night had been fruitless. When she finally met back up with Gambumbo he was wet and broke. She was too tired by that point to ask any questions. The two of them headed away from the docks, hoping to find somewhat more upscale accommodations. They stumbled into the first decent inn they saw, got a room, and slept.

Lifting her head ever so slightly, Parika cracked an eye open to look down at the floor. The rug where Gambumbo had slept was empty, so he must have gotten up early. _More power to him_, she thought. She lay back and considered her current strategy for personal advancement. So far it had gotten her exactly nowhere, but she couldn't come up with any other viable option. She had heard stories of what the Guild did to independent thieves back home, and she has no desire to go down that path. She was determined to learn how deep the water was here before diving in.

Too much thinking had driven the sleep from her head, and she reluctantly got out of bed. The smell of frying bacon and biscuits from below gave her a little more motivation, and before long she was trotting down the stairs to the common room.

When she had first arrived Parika hadn't paid any attention to the decor, being more concerned with a soft horizontal place to put her body. In the morning light she decided that the place looked like she would imagine her grandmother's house, had she ever known her. Everything was very pleasant and rustic. It certainly didn't look like it belonged in a famous pirate haven -- and perhaps that was the point. Behind the desk was the same little old man that had been there the night before. His little old wife bustled in and out of the kitchen, bringing food out to a long table set along one wall of the room. There were a few other guests sitting at tables eating, alone or in pairs. They looked mostly like traveling merchants and artisans.

As she availed herself of the fine food, Parika saw someone else descend the stairs. After her previous experience with strangers in Freeport she was wary, so she studied him carefully. He was tall and slim, with short brown hair and green eyes. He looked young, but his ears revealed that he shared the same fey heritage that had caused Parika so much pain in her youth. His clothes were stylish yet tasteful, perhaps a little more flashy than absolutely necessary. Adding to that the lute case slung over his shoulder gave Parika a good idea of his profession. The man greeted the little old lady warmly, giving her a peck on the cheek as he passed her. He sat in the middle of the room with a plate full of fruit and biscuits and began tuning his lute.

Parika gnawed thoughtfully on a strip of bacon. If there was anything to know about this town, surely a bard would be the one to know it? And if he happened to be an attractive half-elven bard that certainly didn't hurt her resolve any. Hoping that lightning wouldn't strike her twice, she went over and introduced herself.

Despite her forward greeting, the bard rose to his feet and gave her a small bow. "Delthic Duin at your service. Would you care to join me for breakfast?"

Parika sat and chatted with him, mostly about the inn. Delthic had lived there for years, finding it to be a haven of civility in an often uncivil city. Still, he added, if Freeport were tame it wouldn't be Freeport.

Finally Parika got around to her real question: "So, if someone had... special talents... where might she be able to find gainful employment?"

Delthic raised an eyebrow, then smiled slightly as he mentally discarded one possibility. "Well, there are many talented people in this city. I would humbly count myself as one of them, and I have managed to find employment at any number of fine establishments. But perhaps your talents do not lend themselves to... public performance?" At Parika's nod, he said, "Well, I may have some resources for you. If you would accompany me up to my room, perhaps I could show them to you?"

In another inn, with another person, this proposition would have earned a laugh, if not a dagger. In the current situation, however, it was met with eager acceptance.

***

Delthic sat on the edge of his bed, offering Parika the chair at his desk. The room was packed full of _stuff_, though it wasn't untidy. Clearly this was a permanent residence, not just a way station for an itinerant performer. From what Parika could see displayed, she deduced that Delthic was well travelled. Being a bard with an Ahandrian accent, this was hardly surprising. She sat in the proffered chair.

"So, you're looking for work, eh?" Delthic asked, rubbing his chin. "What sort of _work_ do you do?"

Parika hadn't ever had to put together a criminal resume before. "Um, breaking and entering, mostly. Taking things that aren't nailed down, that sort of thing." It sounded strange to say it out loud.

The bard nodded. "I see. Well, this sort of thing isn't exactly my area of expertise, but I might be able to get you in touch with someone who knows someone." He frowned slightly. "You realize that I would be taking quite a risk? I hardly know you, so my vouching for you would be a complete act of faith." Parika nodded, and he grinned. "But I like to think I'm a good judge of character. I think you'll do just fine."


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## peteyfrogboy (Aug 24, 2003)

*Death In Freeport: Part 1*

*Naturally, this section contains spoilers about the module Death In Freeport. Read at your own risk.*

Two days had passed since Parika first met with Delthic. Aside from learning her way around the Eastern District, she hadn't done much. Her savings were still enough to keep a roof over her head for quite a while, especially since Gambumbo had apparently managed to pay for their room for the next week. She hadn't seen the islander since they came to the inn, except when he was asleep.

Last night he hadn't come home at all. Parika was awoken by him stumbling through the door bruised and naked except for a crown of thorns. Shaking her head, she went out to buy some clothes for him from a ragman. When she returned to the inn, she ran into Delthic in the common room.

"Ah, there you are," he said, smiling. He handed her a small folded piece of paper. "Here's the address of that man you wanted to meet." Parika smiled and thanked him. "My pleasure. Also, if you and your friend aren't busy this morning, I'm going to meet with a friend's daughter who just came into town. I was going to give her a quick primer on city and I thought you might want to sit in."

***

An hour later everyone met up at the Black Gull and introductions were made. Tall and athletic, Rachel Caldwell had an air of confidence about her. She was well dressed in the style of a mariner, complete with a cutlass in a weathered scabbard at her hip. Since coming to Freeport Parika had started to grow accustomed to the mannish clothing favored by female sailors and warriors. She herself had quickly taken to dressing in men's clothes when she left the orphanage, as skirts simply got in the way. She had always heard that Kufriti women often dressed (scandalously!) in men's garb.

Accompanying Rachel was a young man dressed in similarly fine clothes but clearly uncomfortable in them. He was not introduced, though at one point Parika heard Rachel refer to him as "Dufa". Gambumbo grinned toothily at hearing the name, but Parika never got a chance to ask about it.

After introductions had been made, Delthic gave a quick rundown of the physical and political layout of the city. He also sang the short version of one of the songs recounting the Great Raid and the subsequent founding of Freeport as an independent city. After fielding a few more questions, he accompanied Dufa back to the inn with his and Rachel's luggage.

Rachel, Parika, and Gambumbo chatted and ate for a while longer before deciding to head back to the inn. As Gambumbo opened the door to leave, however, he saw a small mob of sailors out in the street. One of them pointed his way, shouting, "That's him! Get him!"

***

Rachel and Parika looked over at the door just in time to see eight club-wielding sailors rush Gambumbo. One of them landed a blow right between the islander's eyes, laying him out instantly. The mob seemed to hesitate for moment, not expecting such an easy target. Their blood was up already, though, so they turned on Gambumbo's friends. By this point the other patrons had taken refuge under tables and the barkeep was down behind the bar. Only the raven was still in view, shrieking "You break it, you bought it!"

Rachel and Parika drew their weapons and looked at each other, then ran for the back door. Parika threw it open, only to find a dark storage room. "Where's the back door?" she shouted.

"There ain't no back door," replied the barkeep from his hiding place.

"What kind of bar doesn't have a back door?" she complained, but the only answer was a shrug. The mob bore down on them, chasing the two women over the bar. They both took several hits, only managing to score a few wounds on the half-drunk sailors. Parika saw an opportunity and ran for the front door, making a beeline back to the inn.

Rachel took a stand, though she knew she was hopelessly outnumbered. One of the sailors grabbed her by the shirt and she pulled away, losing a few buttons. As the neck of the shirt fell open, a heavy gold medallion swung free, cast in the shape of an eye wreathed in flames. She noticed a couple of the sailors whose eyes glanced toward the pendant.

"Do you like it?" she asked, "My daddy gave it to me." From any other person this would not be a threat, but Rachel's father was Mad Randall Grayson, a notorious Kufriti pirate and captain of the _Burning Eye_. The thought of Mad Randall's wrath was enough to chill their blood, and the mob quickly removed themselves from the premises. Rachel hated to be reduced to name-dropping, but fighting dirty is the better part of staying alive.

The patrons began to emerge from under the tables. One of them, wearing the red robes of a priest, ran to Gambumbo's side. Unfortunately there was nothing to be done by then but perform last rites. The priest rose and approached Rachel. "That was amazing," he said. "You must be a formidable warrior." The pirate's daughter was certainly not going to correct his mistake. The priest, whose name was Brother Edwin, explained that he was looking for someone capable to help him find a librarian friend of his who had gone missing. Rachel was able to deduce quickly that Edwin was a member of the Order of St. Uller, a scholarly order with a large presence in most cities due to their extensive libraries and skill at record keeping. While she had no particular inclination to go looking for a lost librarian, the coin Edwin was offering was sufficient to pique her interest.

By the time they left for the inn the Guard had already made their cursory inquiries and hauled Gambumbo's body away.

DM Notes:
* I couldn't decide how I wanted to pronounce Egil, so I renamed him Edwin.
* I replaced the press gang attack with a mob looking for Gambumbo. It was intended as an easy encounter; if even one of the mob had been taken down the rest would have fled. Unfortunately, the party rolled poorly and the mob rolled well.
* After weeks of searching for a replacement member for the gaming group, my wife unexpectedly volunteered to play. At this point there are theoretically four PCs. More on this later.


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## peteyfrogboy (Aug 24, 2003)

*Eulogy For A Cannibal*

Ah, Gambumbo. He was the first character that was created for the campaign, and the first to go. After hearing his options, his player asked if he could make an evil island cannibal sorcerer. I told him to go for it, even though I've pretty much had my fill of trying to deal with evil characters. I figured that either he would reform or would become the victim of his own wicked ways. As it turned out, the latter was the case. I was certainly not out to get him -- I had half a dozen plots centered on him that went out the window when he died.

I've edited out most of his presence in the story hour because it was largely solo and completely tangential to the main plot. Also, the exploits of evil PCs don't make for family friendly story hours. I will give the highlights here for posterity.

*--- BEWARE: HERE LIE EVIL ACTS ---*

Gambumbo was a sorcerer, the apprentice of his tribe's wise man. When the foreigners came to their island, the wise man decided that they needed to find out more about them to determine if they were a threat. Following tribal tradition, they captured one of them and consumed his flesh in a special ritual to gain his knowledge. Gambumbo was intrigued by the strange culture and managed to get himself hired onto the ship. The crew were impressed with his knowledge of the Tavian language. On the way back to Freeport he managed to sacrifice two crew members during the wee hours of the night. 

When he arrived in Freeport his goal was to start a career as a chef. To this end the first thing he did was purchase a set of knives. Naturally, he got cheated on the price. Welcome to Freeport, buddy! He wandered further into the city and get waylaid in an alley by Razzik the half-orc.

After the escape he originally intended to get Captain Frick drunk and sacrifice him, but at some point the phrases "That man is not legal tender" and "No, I have gold" led to a bar fight involving magic missiles, trap doors, and lots of awful swim checks. Later on he managed to get his pocket picked anyway.

After the events in _The Welcoming Committee_ he landed a job at a struggling restaurant, displacing the owner's brother who only knew how to make pancakes. Within a day he had managed to impress a trio of restaurant critics with his signature dish "Salt Pork With Whiskey". That night he managed to botch a sacrifice in the kitchen. The next day he improved his culinary reputation further. When he went cruising for sacrifices again, he ran across a crazy druid and his pet bear who gave him a sound thrashing and left him naked in an alley wearing a crown of thorns as a message (to whom, I'm not certain). Thus it was that the next day he had only healed back to 2 HP when he got jumped by the barfly he blasted his first night in town. The first hit on him was a crit, which was intended as subdual damage but still ended up dropping him to -9. With no effective healers, he had no chance.

And thus endeth our lesson about the perils of being evil.


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## pogre (Aug 24, 2003)

Well done!

A miniatures thread and a story hour! A man after my own heart. I look forward to your next installment.


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## peteyfrogboy (Aug 24, 2003)

*Death In Freeport: Part 2*

Nevroth stood at the rail of the cutter as it entered Freeport Harbor. Laid out before him was the legendary pirate city. He spat into the water. Pirates. 

To put it mildly, Nevroth hated pirates. When he was ten years old he watched as pirates murdered his father and abducted his mother. Returning to Ahandria an orphan, he learned to survive on his own, driven by his desire for revenge. He studied pirates, learning what he could from sailors' stories. Two years ago he joined the Manhunters' Guild to gain further training.

When he was asked to choose an assignment for his first solo hunt, it was an easy decision. A small Ulleran temple needed someone to hunt down a man named Lucius who had stolen two of their books. He had claimed to be a librarian from the temple in Freeport...

***

Edwin led Rachel and Parika to Lucius's house, a small building in Drac's End. When they arrived they found a man standing in front of the door. "Can I help you?" asked Edwin.

The man turned, surprised. "My name is Nevroth. I'm looking for a man named Lucius. The temple said he lived here."

"So are we," said Parika. She glanced at Edwin, but the priest looked as nonplussed as she. "Who sent you?"

"A temple on the mainland. He stole some books from their library."

Edwin frowned. "I can't imagine Lucius doing such a thing. But as I told you earlier, he claims that he has no memory of the last five years. He was acting very strangely before he left the temple and went abroad; perhaps it was indeed him." He shrugged. "At any rate, we all seem to be looking for the same man. Perhaps we should work together?"

***

The group gathered in the main room of Lucius's house to go over what they had found during their search. 

"Okay," said Parika, "what have we got?"

Nevroth placed a sheet of parchment and a battered journal on the desk. "Just these."

Rachel brushed a cobweb from her shoulder. "Nothing down in the basement, except some empty bookshelves. They seemed newer than the other furniture, if that's important."

Edwin shook his head. "The back room held only supplies. Nothing out of the ordinary."

Nevroth held up the parchment. "This is a list of things he was planning to do. Sleep, talk to someone named Captain Scarbelly, something about turnips..." he glanced at Edwin, who only shrugged, "...update his diary, and examine some travel logs." He tapped the journal with a finger. "We have the diary, but what travel logs is he referring to?"

"I don't know," said Edwin. "He never mentioned anything like that to me."

Parika frowned. "Okay, so what's in the diary?"

"Most of the beginning is very boring librarian stuff. Then there's a five year gap. That must be when Edwin said he was acting strange and traveling. Then a year ago he starts making new entries again. More recently he complains of bizarre dreams. By the end he sounds very paranoid. The last entry is a week ago."

Parika flipped through the diary, then set it down again. "So, where do we start?"

"We still don't know how he got readmitted to the temple," said Rachel. "Maybe we should start there."

DM Notes:
* Most of the conversations have been paraphrased. Often they were conducted with a lot of hand-waving and dice-rolling. My main goal is to stay true to the original intent and sequence of events.


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## peteyfrogboy (Aug 25, 2003)

*Death In Freeport: Part 3*

"Well, that didn't get us anywhere." Parika grumbled. "Who does that Milos guy think he is, anyway?"

"He's the high priest's assistant," said Nevroth. "And we did learn something: Lucius got back into the temple by donating books he acquired during his travels. And I'd wager I know what two of them are."

"Right, but he wouldn't let us see them. I bet those travel logs are in there too." She glared at the temple as if she could intimidate it into revealing its secrets. "I bet Edwin could get at those books."

"I doubt it. If he could, he would have already. Besides, he said he didn't want us to get him involved any more than he already is. With a boss like Milos, I can understand why."

Rachel shrugged. "Well, any way you look at it, this is a dead end. Maybe we should try to find this Scarbelly character instead?"

"You guys go on without me. I'll meet you back at the inn," said Parika.

***

It didn't take long for Rachel and Nevroth to find out who Captain Scarbelly was. His ship was moored by itself; no one wanted to tie up next to a bunch of orcish pirates.

Rachel walked up to the gangplank, where a burly orc stood guard. "We want to talk to your captain."

The orc blinked his piggy eyes at her. "So what?"

Nevroth stepped forward. "Look, we don't want any trouble. We just need to ask the captain a few questions."

"That not my problem." The orc grinned and fingered the hilt of his cutlass. "And me like trouble."

At that point, another orc came stomping up to the rail. He shoved the guard aside, sending him splashing into the water below. "What you doing here? Why you waste crew's time with talky-talky?" 

"Are you Scarbelly?" asked Rachel.

"Ha!" The orc beat his chest with a gloved fist. "Aggro. Captain not here. Now push off!"

"Wait. Where can we find him?"

The orc shrugged. "Me not know. Me not care if you find him."

Nevroth looked over the side of the pier at the orc thrashing in the water. He didn't seem to be doing very well. "Did anyone else come looking for him?" asked the manhunter. "A man named Lucius, perhaps?"

Aggro scowled, as though the act of thinking was causing him pain. "Little skinny human? White skin?" Nevroth nodded. "Me remember. You know what me tell him? Push off!"

Rachel sighed and the two headed back up the pier. "Well that wasn't very helpful."

"At least we know he's still alive. Or was recently, at any rate." Nevroth scratched his head. "But why was he looking for an orcish pirate anyway? It doesn't make any sense."

"Who knows?" Rachel looked around the busy docks. "Maybe the harbormaster might know where Scarbelly is."

It didn't take long to find him. Kaddaceous Serlin was making his rounds, flanked by half a dozen of the Sea Lord's Guard. The elf had been running the docks for longer than anyone could remember, and the years of practice had made him nothing if not efficient. When Nevroth and Rachel asked about the orc ship, he sneered without looking up from his paperwork. "They're a pox, that's what they are. The sooner they're gone, the better."

Nevroth raised an eyebrow. "Since when did Freeport have a problem with pirates in port?"

"I don't care what they do when they're at sea. But when they empty an entire pier with their stink it costs the city money. I'll be just as glad as the merchants when they leave."

"Merchants?" asked Rachel. "Have the orcs been causing problems?"

"The crew have been behaving themselves, but the captain fancies himself a gourmand." The elf snorted. "He's been making the rounds of local restaurants and practically shutting them down."

***

"What you mean, no food?" The shout was followed by people scurrying out the door of Mickleberry's Restaurant. Rachel and Nevroth exchanged a glance and headed inside.

A large, garishly dressed orc was standing in the middle of the restaurant, brandishing a chair. Waiters cowered in the corners, while the hostess tried to hide behind a potted plant. "I'm sorry, ah... sir... but our chef seems to have gone missing."

"Bah! Me no care. You find him. Me want special "Salt Pork With Whiskey" everyone talking about."

The hostess looked pleadingly at the two people coming in the door. Rachel approached the enraged orc. "Ah, Captain Scarbelly, I presume?"

The orc glared at her through narrowed eyes. "Who you? You chef?"

"No, my friend and I just had some questions for you."

Scarbelly smashed the chair on a nearby table, showering Rachel with splinters. "Grah! Me too hungry to talk." He grumbled something about "false advertising".

Nevroth said, "Perhaps we could go somewhere else to talk? We could by your lunch."

The pirate captain paused in mid-rant. "Go somewhere else? Anywhere?" Nevroth nodded uncertainly. Scarbelly grinned.

***

Rachel and Nevroth sat across the linen-draped table from Scarbelly as he perused the Diving Fin's menu. A waiter stood nearby, apparently unaware that his customer was anything out of the ordinary. Scarbelly stabbed a clawed finger at the menu. "Me have Sea Lord's Feast."

The waiter raised an eyebrow. "You are aware that it is a seven course meal, sir?"

The orc scratched his nose. "Good point. Make it two."

Nevroth gaped when he looked at the menu, but dutifully handed the waiter a heavy pouch of gold coins. "Now, do you remember a man by the name of Lucius?"

Scarbelly already had soup dripping from his matted beard. "Yeah, me remember him. He ask questions about before. Not buy me such good food though."

"Before?" asked Rachel. "Before when?"

"He was on me ship before. Three, four years ago. It funny, he ask about it like he not remember."

"Why was he on board your ship? I would think he could find, um, cheaper passage elsewhere."

The orc shrugged, crunching a whole crab in his maw. "He say he want to watch us. Made lots of writing in book. It very strange, but he pay good so me not ask questions."

"Where did he leave your ship?" asked Nevroth.

"Me not remember. Somewhere on mainland. That all me know."

Leaving the captain to his lunch, the two headed back to the inn.


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## pogre (Aug 25, 2003)

That half-orc captain reminds me of someone.


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## peteyfrogboy (Aug 25, 2003)

> That half-orc captain reminds me of someone.




About halfway through writing the exchange with the orcs, I realized that they did indeed sound like Cookie Monster. I spend all day watching a 1-year-old, so he's a powerful influence.  It makes it easy to stay consistent with the speech pattern, though. I don't think I played them that way during the actual game. I know for certain that Aggro's word choice was quite a bit "saltier" than he appears here.


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## peteyfrogboy (Aug 27, 2003)

*Death In Freeport: Part 4*

Parika sat on the bed in her room, sharpening a dagger. She'd been trying to figure out how to sneak into the temple and get a peek at those books, but it was useless. There were too many guards, and even if she could get past them she had no way to know where the books were kept or what exactly she was looking for. She got up and walked to the window. Swinging the thick glass upward, she leaned out to look down the street. Surely the others would be getting back soon. 

Shading her eyes against the afternoon glare, she saw Nevroth and Rachel turn the corner. As she was about to call out to them, something moved on the edge of her vision. On the roof of the building across the street, someone else was watching the street.

***

The familiar sign outside the Goodhearth Inn was a welcome sight. Rachel saw Parika leaning out the window, but instead of waving the half-elf threw a dagger across the street. Her target dodged the missile, returning fire with a crossbow. Parika cried out as she was hit, falling back into the room.

Rachel and Nevroth reached for their weapons as men emerged ahead and behind them. Before Rachel's cutlass cleared its sheath, one of the men behind her pointed at her and uttered an arcane syllable. Suddenly filled with dread, she ran off down the street.

The armored man with the spellcaster shouted at the other two attackers, "Go after her!" He advanced on Nevroth with sword drawn.

Down the street, Rachel was being pursued by two more swordsmen. By the time they caught up with her at the end of the block her fear had passed. She yanked her cutlass free and turned to face them. The sniper on the rooftop tried to draw a bead on her, but he leaned out too far and fell to the street, breaking his neck.

Nevroth fell back to the door of the inn, defending himself with his longsword gripped in both hands. He was able to avoid being wounded, but he was unable to land a blow himself. The sorcerer followed them into the inn, harrying Nevroth with both frost and fire. He got too close, however, and the manhunter delivered a gash to his leg deep enough to leave the spellcaster writhing on the floor.

The bloodless duel continued for a few more moments. Rachel had dispatched both her attackers and came through the door. After taking a cut from her blade, the leader surrendered. Rachel ran up the stairs to check on Parika. Meanwhile, Nevroth disarmed the assassins' leader and sat him in a chair.

"Who are you, and why did you attack us?" asked the manhunter, tapping the point of his blade on the man's head.

"I'm not telling you anything," sneered the man. "Who would hire me again if I gave up my employers' names?"

The tip of Nevroth's sword whipped downward, coming to rest on the seat between the man's legs. "You can't take any contracts if you're dead."

"Ah, I see your point," said the man, glancing downward. "I'm Rittoro, captain of the Yellow Shields." He nodded his head toward the shield discarded on the floor, covered in yellow leather.

"How creative," said Nevroth. "Now, who hired you to kill us?"

Rittoro shrugged. "Scrawny little guy by the name of Enzo. And before you ask, He didn't say why. Just that he'd pay well to have you taken out."

"When did he contact you?"

"Just after lunch, I think. Pretty short notice, but sometimes that's how it goes."

Nevroth furrowed his brow as he did math in his head. "And how were you supposed to receive your payment."

Rittoro slowly reached for a leather pouch hanging around his neck. He removed it and handed it over. "There's an address in there. We were supposed to meet him there tonight after the job was done." He watched as Nevroth opened the pouch and removed a small piece of folded parchment. The manhunter shook the pouch, making the coins inside jingle cheerfully. "Ah," said Rittoro, "can I have the rest of that back?"

Nevroth raised an eyebrow. "I don't think so. In fact, we're going to be taking the rest of your gear, too."

"But that'll ruin me! What good is a mercenary with no weapons?"

Nevroth shrugged. "Don't know, don't care. Would you prefer we wait for the Guard and have them throw you in the Tombs?"

Rittoro rubbed his chin. "I suppose not. Ah well, I've been poor before."

As the mercenary began removing the rest of his equipment, Rachel came down the stairs supporting Parika. The half-elf had a large bloodstain on her shoulder but looked like she would survive. "I sent Delthic to fetch Brother Edwin. He should be able to get me patched up." She took in the rest of the scene quickly. "So what's the deal?" Nevroth filled her in on Rittoro and his mysterious employer. Parika nodded slowly. "I see. I think I have an idea of how to use this to our advantage." She began poking through Rittoro's gear. She stopped suddenly, pulling out an ivory handled dagger from the pile. "Where did you get this?" she demanded.

"It was a down payment for the job." He shrugged. "It's just a pretty dagger. Why, is it important?"

Parika turned the dagger over and held it out so the others could see the "L" engraved on the handle. "Lucius said in his last diary entry that he was taking his dagger with him, right?"  Nevroth and Rachel nodded. "I'd bet my belt that whoever sent these guys has got Lucius as well."

***

"There's no way this is going to work," complained Rachel as she adjusted the ill fitting leather armor. "Nobody but an idiot would mistake me for Rittoro in this outfit."

Parika smiled. "Don't worry. We'll be fine. Besides, you were the only one tall enough to pass for him. That'll be more important than your figure, at least from a distance."

Nevroth stopped and checked the address again. "This is it."

Parika looked up at the building. A sign hung outside bearing the image of a raven. "Tavion's eyes, not this place again!"

"What?" asked Nevroth. 

Rachel shook her head. "Oh, never mind. Let's just go in."

The Black Gull was at it's rowdiest at this hour. The three companions took a table near the center of the room, hanging their borrowed yellow shields over their chairs so they could be easily seen. "So," said Rachel, "you've got an idea who's behind all this?"

Nevroth nodded. "These guys got rushed out after us right after we had our meeting with Milos. He certainly wasn't eager to share any information about him with us. Also, Lucius wrote in his diary about some tension between them. Maybe he found out about something going on in the temple?"

"We won't know for sure until we get our hands on him," said Parika, not taking her eyes from the door. "And for that, we need to-- ah, I bet that's him."

The others turned to look at the man standing in the doorway. He was skinny and fidgety, obviously uncomfortable in a bar full of salty sailors. He quickly located the "Yellow Shields" and scurried over to the table.

"So the deed is done?" he asked.

Nevroth grabbed the man's arm. "Here, have a seat." The man was easily propelled into a chair.

"Oh, uh, thank you." He produced a sack, which he deposited on the table with a heavy _chink_. "I, um, I suppose this concludes our business then. Thirty crowns, as we agreed."

Rachel gaped. "Thirty crowns? That's all we're worth? Thirty stinking crowns?"

Enzo blinked, confused. "But we... uh... what?"

Removing the ill-fitting helm from her head, Rachel leaned across the table. "Do I look like the man you hired?"

"Uh, well, no, but..."

She sat back down with a disgusted sigh. "Idiot."

"Okay," said Nevroth, "in case you hadn't figured it out yet, we're the people you sent those fools to kill. I'm guessing you're not the brains of the operation, so who's your boss?"

Enzo tried to rise, but Nevroth's friendly hand on his shoulder prevented him. "I won't tell you." The hand became less friendly. "Ow! The Master won't stand for this!"

"Master?" asked Parika. "What Master?"

Enzo realized his mistake, but couldn't figure out how to correct it. "The Master. My Master."

The half-elf rolled her yes. "Obviously. But who is he?"

The thought apparently had never occurred to Enzo. "He is... the Master. That's all I need to know."

"Lovely. Where can we find him?"

"His ways are mysterious. He could be anywhe-- ow, ow! There is a meeting place in Scurvytown."

"Can you take us there?"

"The Master would surely slaughter you all."

"You just let us worry about that."


DM Notes:
* This was the end of the first session for this module. 
* The party has an amazing talent for non-lethal battles. During the battle with the Yellow Shields, only two of them actually died, and one did it to himself by botching a roll and falling off a building. Another was disabled by Rachel and crawled away when she ran to help Nevroth. Even Belko the sorcerer was taken to exactly 0 and managed to survive. Every random encounter with ne'er-do-wells in Scurvytown has also ended with the gang leader being reduced to 0 and his cohorts dragging him away.


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## peteyfrogboy (Aug 27, 2003)

*Death In Freeport: Part 5*

The "meeting place" was a nondescript one story building in the slum known as Scurvytown. The windows were bricked up and it looked uninhabited, but appearances were often deceiving.

Parika tried the door. "Locked. Open it up, Enzo."

Enzo shook his head. "Oh, I don't have a key yet."

"Well, knock and tell them to let us in or something."

"Do I have to?" A glare was his only answer. He timidly approached the door and knocked on it. After a few minutes it was clear there would be no answer. Enzo turned and shrugged. "Can I go now?"

Nevroth sighed. "Whatever. Go, get out of here." He didn't bother to watch as the scrawny man scampered away. "So how do we get through the door?"

"I can probably get it open," said Parika, "but first I'd like to take a look around, see if there's another way in."

"Good idea. You and Rachel go take a look around. I'll stay here and keep watch on the door." Nevroth hooked his thumbs in his belt and waited. Whatever Parika was doing, it seemed to take a long time. After a few minutes, he saw someone approaching . His hand went to his sword, but soon he saw that it was only Brother Edwin.

"Thank the Lord I found you," said the priest. "I waited for your friend like you asked, but when he got back to the inn he was in no shape to help you. He was asleep before I left the inn." He handed over backpack. "I figured you might need my help. I also brought some healing elixirs. If Lucius is being held here, there may be some danger."

Parika finally came back around the corner of the building, carefully checking every chink in the brickwork. "Doesn't look like there's any other way in," she announced. "I'll try the door." She kneeled in front of the door and began working at the lock.

Nevroth muttered to Rachel, "She's very... thorough, isn't she?" Rachel only shrugged. It turned out that thoroughness wasn't enough, however, as the half-elf ended up calling the others over to break the door in.

***

"What a dump," opined Parika. The inside of the house was littered with debris and trash. There was nothing of interest there except a trap door in the floor at the back of the room. "Let's have a look at this..."

Everyone else wandered around the room pretending to search through the junk on the floor. Eventually Parika declared the trap door safe and opened it. Stairs led down into a dark basement. Edwin said a brief prayer and his sunburst pendant began to glow with yellow light. The room below was cleaners, but almost as empty. Large casks were lined up along the walls. Some were empty, while others contained soured wine. Parika went around the room tapping the casks and examining their construction. "Either that idiot managed to fool us, or one of these is a -- aha!" She began examining one of the casks, muttering about hinges and catches.

Edwin wrung his hands. "Um, I don't mean to be a bother, but time is of the essence. Lucius may be in danger. Also, this light isn't going to last all night long."

Parika sighed and simply gave the suspect cask a quick inspection before swinging the front of it open. Beyond were a set of stairs leading into a dank stone passageway. "Now we're getting somewhere."

Rachel took the lead at this point, cutlass drawn. The foursome stepped into the hall, which extended off to their right toward an intersection. She led the way slowly forward, watching the shadows for enemies. It wasn't the shadows that held the danger, however; Rachel yelped as the floor suddenly swung out from under her, dropping her into a pit.

From the left-hand branch of the intersection came a bizarre hissing sound. A section of blank wall had slid aside, revealing a rough-hewn tunnel beyond. Through the door came five monstrous creatures resembling a cross between a man and a snake. They took up positions on the far side of the pit and launched javelins at the human intruders.

The javelins were ineffective, and the serpent men found themselves hindered by the pit as much as their enemies were. Rachel climbed out to defend the narrow section of floor between the pit and the wall. Between Parika's arrows and Nevroth and Rachel's swords, the serpent men went down without inflicting much damage.

With doors in front of them, doors to the right, and a mysterious tunnel to the left, the choice was simple. The narrow tunnel curved around, revealing no other dangers. Eventually, another door appeared on the right hand side of the tunnel. Parika opened the door, which revealed a room full of large chests. Even as her eyes brightened with greed, a horde of skeletons lifted themselves off the floor and started toward the door. 

Parika slammed the door shut again, but clawed fingers began to pry it open again. "Uh oh," she said.

The battle at the doorway was cramped and confusing. Skeletons occasionally leaped through the doorway to wrestle with Rachel, who had taken the central position. Their fingers could find no purchase on her chain shirt, however, and the doorway foiled their attempts to rend Parika and Nevroth. The three of them systematically reduced the undead horrors to a pile of unmoving bones.

A brief search of the chests revealed several sacks of coins, more than enough reward for their trials so far. They left the heavy coinage be, though, taking with them only a round metal shield bearing a strange symbol: eight arrows radiating from a central point. Edwin thought it might be a symbol of Chaos, but Rachel was simply glad for the added defense.

The door opposite the tunnel led into another hallway. Parika scouted down the left hand side, returning to describe a large set of bronze double doors with a serpent design. "The temple, no doubt. I suggest we leave that for last."

Rachel nodded. "I'm surprised no one has come out to get us yet."

Parika checked the door across the hall from the treasure room. Satisfied that it was safe, she looked inside. "Books. Lots of books." The library was empty of people, so they proceeded to inspect its contents. Rachel and Edwin looked over the bookshelves. "I don't recognize any of these titles," said the priest, "but they sound dreadful. _Cult of the Bloody Heart_? _Spawn of the Ages_? Nothing I'd like to read. Nevroth and Parika checked out the large desk on the far side of the room. As Nevroth leafed through a pile of papers, Parika opened an ominous black tome entitled _The Book Of the Unspeakable One_.

Nevroth muttered as he read a letter, "Arrive in Freeport on schedule... The Brotherhood... N'Tal? That's a funny name. Parika, what do you make of this? Parika?" He looked over at the half-elf to see her staggering back from the black book, bleeding from her eyes and making strange gurgling noises. He slammed the book shut.

After a few minutes helping Parika gather what was left of her wits, the group decided to enter the temple before they ran across any other unexpected dangers. The others prepared for battle as Parika slowly pushed the door open.

Bright light streamed out, nearly blinding the thief. A familiar voice echoed forth: "Finally you have arrived. Prepare to meet your doom, interlopers!"


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## peteyfrogboy (Aug 27, 2003)

*Dufa: The Unauthorized Biography*

Remember when I said there were four PCs? Well, one of the players hasn't yet made it to a single session. He is playing the cabin boy that Rachel's father sent along to keep her safe. Obviously, he hasn't been doing a very good job. At one point we were leaving messages on his answering machine and I let my one year old daughter have the phone. The only word I could make out from what she said was "Dufa", and so the unnamed cabin boy was christened.

I explained his early absences away by deciding that this was the first time he had had access to alcohol and was constantly drunk. He was going to join up with them at the bricked up house, but due to another absence I decreed that he came back to the inn and passed out. He has been subjected to various abuses since, and at this point is recovering from his trials at a temple run by a minor order of monks. He's three full levels behind at the current point in the campaign, so I foresee some forced leveling if he ever shows up.


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## peteyfrogboy (Aug 27, 2003)

*Death In Freeport: Part 6*

Parika looked into the brightly lit temple. The vaulted ceiling was supported by six massive columns. A large basalt altar lay at the far end of the temple, some forty feet away. She recognized Milos standing behind the altar, though he now wore a black robe instead of priestly vestments. Another black-robed cultist stood behind each of the furthest pillars, holding crossbows at the ready. Carved on the back wall was a great gilded symbol that the thief didn't recognize, yet still it stirred a deep unease in her. She dashed into the room, unslinging her bow as she took cover behind one of the pillars. Her first arrow went wide of its mark, but at least she got the first shot off.

Nevroth and Rachel stormed the chamber, weapons drawn. Something in Nevroth's mind recoiled from the alien symbol behind the altar, but he pressed on nonetheless. Rachel barely got a chance to glimpse it, as Milos chilled her heart with fear. She was forced to retreat back down the hallway. Edwin entered quickly, taking cover next to Parika. Nevroth fired his bow from the doorway, though he was unable to hit the hiding cultist.

Parika made her way from pillar to pillar, exchanging fire with one of the acolytes. Milos smiled as he saw his colleague Edwin. "Ah, my brother, now you know my secret. A pity you will never share it with anyone." He spoke a blasphemous chant and extended a clawed hand toward the priest. Edwin felt as though the hand was closing around him, but he managed to resist the paralyzing effect. Milos scowled and moved next to one of the acolytes. Nevroth dropped his bow, charging across the temple toward the cult leader. 

Parika finally landed an arrow in one of the cultists, sending him to the ground in a heap. She advanced to his position, drawing a bead on the other crossbowman. Edwin joined her, calling on Tavion's grace to heal a wound she had taken in the missile exchange. Nevroth reached Milos, ignoring the same incantation that had sent Rachel running. The manhunter struck at the unarmored cultist, but had a difficult time making solid contact with his sword. Meanwhile, Rachel had returned to the fight. She sprinted across the temple, eager to join the battle. 

Edwin took up the fallen acolyte's crossbow. He and Parika quickly took down the other acolyte, leaving Milos alone. Milos grinned evilly. He chanted again, and his hand began to radiate a chilling darkness. "Now you die!" Unfortunately for him, Nevroth was able to dodge the necromantic attack. Rachel and Nevroth both slashed at him, drawing blood and sending him to the ground. After a moment they were shocked to see their enemy's form shift, reforming into that of another serpent man. 

"Lucius!" cried Edwin as he found his friend lying behind the altar. He freed the librarian from his bonds and the two embraced happily. 

Lucius explained how Milos had lured him to this place and captured him. The serpent man had proceeded to torture and interrogate the librarian, seeking details of the strange dreams he had been having. Lucius hadn't been able to recall much except bizarre alien landscapes and buildings, frustrating his captor. "If you hadn't found me, I fear that he would have killed me soon. Thank you all. I owe you my life!"

"I'll settle for gold," muttered Parika, heading back to the treasure room.

***

Parika examined the ash-shafted spear she had found hidden near the chests. "Not a bad haul for a bit of humanitarian work, eh?"

"Nope," grunted Nevroth. "Though I'll be happier when we get it home." They had loaded the sacks of coins and gems they had found into a single large chest, which he and Rachel were lugging back through the streets of Scurvytown. The gold and silver were a fine reward, though he was equally glad to have completed his first solo mission as a Manhunter. The accomplishment would earn him Journeyman status in the Guild. That wouldn't mean much in Freeport, as the Guild had no official presence in the city, but perhaps it would give a little extra leverage in his hunt for his parents' killers.

Rachel was simply pleased to get some excitement. Her father had taken her on raids before, but never let her get too near the action. Despite the disparaging comments her father had made about the city, Freeport seemed like a fine place. There always seemed to be something going on.

"What's this, then? A chest full of booty and a pair of wenches to boot?" A gang of brigands blocked the narrow street ahead, their clubs and daggers at the ready.

Rachel just smiled.


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## pogre (Aug 27, 2003)

> The sniper on the rooftop tried to draw a bead on her, but he leaned out too far and fell to the street, breaking his neck.




I hate it when that happens!

What was the botch? a Balance Check missed by more than 5?


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## peteyfrogboy (Aug 27, 2003)

pogre said:
			
		

> I hate it when that happens!
> 
> What was the botch? a Balance Check missed by more than 5?




It was a botched attack that forced a balance check, which he failed. He theoretically could have survived, but the damage dice were against him. *SPLAT*


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## Smeege The Mighty (Aug 27, 2003)

As the one who played Gambumbo and is currently playing Nevroth, I've gotta say this is a very accurate portrayal of what we're going through.  Except for one thing... Gambumbo wasn't so much done in by his evil ways as his ignorance of society and his lack of hit points.  I believe that had a couple rolls gone differently, he'd still be introducing new menu items at the resturant.


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## peteyfrogboy (Aug 29, 2003)

*A Good Stopping Point*

This brings us to the end of _Death in Freeport_, one session behind the current point in the campaign. I'll be on vacation next week, but we'll be playing again the weekend I get back. If I get the urge I may get the next installment of the story hour written while I'm gone.

I hope the few of you that are reading are enjoying the story so far. If you have any questions or comments, please feel free to let me know.


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## Greg Dickens (Aug 29, 2003)

Keep it up.  Like the way it is going so are you going to list what each character's stats are?


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## peteyfrogboy (Aug 29, 2003)

Fee Fi said:
			
		

> Keep it up.  Like the way it is going so are you going to list what each character's stats are?




Thanks!

I think I'll hold off on posting stats for a while. Everyone started as brand new characters, so there's not much of interest yet on their sheets.


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## peteyfrogboy (Sep 5, 2003)

*Interludes*

Rachel poked her head in the door. "Still in bed, eh?"

"Yup," replied Parika, rubbing her temples. "Remind me never to read strange books that I find in evil temples again."

"It's a deal." Rachel deposited a large rucksack on the other bed. "Well, we went to see that sage that Delthic told us about."

"What was his name? Derwood? Damien?"

"Darius," said Rachel as she laid out the items they had found. "Darius the Wise. Lived up to his name, too." The magical items from the Brotherhood temple included Milos's protective ring, the ash shafted spear, some curative elixirs, and the steel shield Rachel took from the treasure room. Rachel picked up the shield. "This one is interesting. throw something at me." Parika tossed a shoe toward Rachel. The symbol on the face of the shield flickered with dark red light, and the shoe suddenly changed its trajectory away from Rachel.

"Nice," agreed Parika. She kicked the chest at the foot of her bed, causing the gold candlesticks and other loot within to rattle. "I may go try to sell some of this today." As it turned out, the address Delthic had given her earlier was that of a pawn broker by the name of Snick Coincatcher. If he was a contact for the local underworld, he would no doubt deal in such trinkets without asking questions.

***

Nevroth stood in the temple library, idly examining the statue that dominated its center. St. Uller was depicted in his traditional pose: gazing upward with arms lifted, hands cradling a sunburst as it descended from heaven. According to church tradition, St. Uller was a pagan priest who was granted an epiphany directly from the Bright Lord Tavion. He went on to spread the word of the new faith among his people, which grew into the modern Church. It seemed an unlikely story, but Nevroth had never taken religious doctrine too literally.

"Sir?" A monk had appeared behind the Manhunter. "Monsignor Thuron will see you now." Nevroth followed the man back through the narrow halls of the temple to Thuron's office. This time Milos was not there to stop him.

The monsignor's office was small and neatly kept, though every available inch of wall space was filled with shelves of books and scrolls. Thuron sat behind his desk wearing the blue robe of his office. The Ulleran vow of poverty seemed to be observed even at this level, as Thuron's robe was simple woad dyed wool embellished with white embroidery.

The white haired priest looked up from a stack of papers on his desk, rubbing the bridge of his nose with one long fingered hand. "Brother Edwin tells me that you were instrumental in finding Lucius and unmasking Milos. For that, I thank you. I have also looked into the books you were sent to find. They were in fact among the volumes Lucius donated to the temple. I have arranged to have them returned to their proper place." He pushed a sealed scroll tube across his desk. "This message will convey as much to the temple in Crevia."

Nevroth thanked the monsignor and made his way back out to the Temple District. Considering the fact that nearly every building in sight was dedicated to the Bright Lord, the architectural variety was surprising. The Ulleran temple had wide doors leading to a vast public atrium, while the dark and narrow entrance to the temple of St. Fargoth made it clear that no one was welcome without serious business. Nevroth passed under the stern visage of the saint, making his way through the small chapel. The pews were nearly deserted; the faithful came to St. Fargoth to pray for justice, and few in Freeport expected to find any.

The red robed priest at the altar raised an eyebrow as Nevroth approached. "Can I help you, my son?" 

Nevroth held up the scroll tube. "I have a message I need to have delivered."

For a moment the priest simply looked back blankly, but then realization dawned on him. "Ah, another manhunter." He took the scroll and examined it. "This is related to an investigation, I take it?" The Guild of Manhunters had a close relationship with the Fargothan Order, including access to a broad range of magical services.

"It is," replied Nevroth. "The Ulleran temple in Crevia hired me."

"Interesting." The priest set the scroll down on the altar. "Where can I contact you with a reply?"

"I'm staying at the Goodhearth Inn."

"A fine place. Are you planning on remaining in the city long?"

Nevroth nodded. "I have no reason to leave anytime soon."

"That's good to hear."

***

Snick was a gaunt man with a trim black beard and a raspy voice. He examined a waxy cube of incense, rubbing it with his thumb. "Hmm, not sure what this might go for. I'll give you five for it."

Parika nodded. She was happy enough with the haggling she'd done on the larger items that a few crowns weren't going to concern her at this point. "Sounds good." She glanced around the small shop; no one else was there. She lowered her voice anyway. "Delthic told me you're the man to talk to about getting employment."

"Ah, I thought that might be you." He scratched his beard as he shuffled through the papers on his desk. He extracted a small piece of parchment from under a teetering pile. "There's an antique dealer named Gurik that moved in up on Hudson Street a few months back. He thinks he doesn't need insurance for his business. He's hired some private security, but I don't have any specifics." He handed Parika the parchment, on which was a Hudson Street address.

She pocketed the address. "So what do you need me to do?"

"Show him the error of his ways. Rumor has it that he has a coin collection, but anything valuable that goes missing should send the right message. If you can't get your hands on anything, bring back information on what security he has in place. If you get caught, you're on your own, but that's the risk you take."


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## pogre (Sep 7, 2003)

Nice set-up, and I mean that in both senses of the word  

I look forward to the next installment!


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## peteyfrogboy (Sep 10, 2003)

*It Takes A Thief*

Gurik Rostov Praefis stood as the door opened. "Good morning. How may I be of service to you today?"

The woman's eyes swept across the various display cases in the front room of Gurik's house. She was dressed in fine, yet sober clothes. She clearly had some money, though it was hard to gauge how much. "I'm looking for a gift for a friend," she said. "He's a coin collector. Might you have anything of that nature?"

The antique dealer smiled. "Of course." He walked across the room, opening one of the cases. He withdrew a padded case holding a variety of coins. "Here is a selection of coins from the Far West. Not antique, but a curiosity popular with many collectors."

"Hmm, not quite what I was looking for. Do you have anything else?" Gurik showed her a variety of ancient Kufriti coins, Ahandrian trade chits, crusade tokens, and Dhevril moon disks, but none of them piqued her interest. "No," she said, "I was looking for something a little more special."

"Well, this is all I have in the way of coins." _That I'm willing to sell_, he thought. "Is there anything else your friend might be interested in? A particular region, perhaps?"

The woman frowned slightly. "He does have some interest in Kufriti metalwork."

"Ah, I can certainly help you there. I can select some pieces from my collection and arrange a viewing for you this evening, if you like."

"Tomorrow morning would be more convenient."

Gurik nodded. "Tomorrow morning, then. I look forward to it."

***

Parika tossed her new gown on the bed and bean changing into her old traveling gear. She had hoped for more success posing as a customer, but if Gurik had a coin collection worth stealing he had either sold it already or it wasn't for sale. At least she had gotten a look inside. The front room of the house had one door leading back further into the house and one locked door leading into a corner room that had a curtained window facing the street. There was one guard by that door, heavily armed. The display cases in the front room weren't even locked, so there probably wasn't anything of great value in them.

She finished lacing her boots and headed back out. There wasn't enough traffic on Hudson Street for her to easily blend in. The street emptied into the collection of tents in Drac's End, however, which would give at least a view of the street. It wasn't the most pleasant place to stake her target out from, but it would have to do.

***

_Eight hours is long enough._ Since she had started watching the street outside Gurik's house, Parika had seen one man she didn't recognize leave with a basket and return, and after sunset she saw another man leave who had not yet come back. That brought the total number of guards she had seen to three, two of whom were presumably still inside. 

She strolled down the street, taking a good look at the house as she passed. It was a two-story structure, attached to a cabinetry shop on one side and open to an alley on the other. There was the front door and one curtained window on the ground floor, and another window on the second floor. There was no light to be seen through the windows. 

After passing by, she doubled back and returned under the cover of shadows. She crept down the alley, easily opening the locked wooden gate that blocked access to the courtyard beyond. The courtyard was empty save for a public pump house like the one behind the Goodhearth Inn. The rear of the house offered much the same access as the front: a door and window on the ground floor with another window above. Again, there was no light to be seen.

Working by the light of the moon, Parika tried the lock on the back door. It didn't yield easily, so she tried the window. The lock on the window was easier to defeat, but when she tried to lift the sash it creaked loudly. She quickly lowered it again as she heard footsteps moving from the front of the house toward her. She dashed back into the alley and waited quietly. No alarm was raised, so she waited a hundred heartbeats and went back to try the door again. This time she was able to pick the lock, and she carefully eased the door open. Beyond was a kitchen, dark and empty. She slipped inside, closing the door behind her.

There were two doors leading out of the kitchen, one across from the courtyard door and one opposite the alley wall. She opted to check the latter first, opening the door a crack and peering inside. She caught a brief glimpse of a dining room lit by a single dim lamp, with stairs across the room from her. As she opened the door, however, she heard the sound of a chair scraping on wood from inside the room. She went back out to the courtyard only seconds before a guard poked his head into the kitchen.

As Parika crouched behind the pump house, she heard the laughing voice of someone coming in through the front door. As if she weren't having enough trouble, there was likely a third guard to deal with now. Forging onward, she slipped into the kitchen again, this time opening the door across from her. She could barely make out the shelves of a larder inside before she heard the guard in the dining room moving again. She ducked inside the pantry, closing the door behind her. The guard made a circuit of the kitchen as Parika held her breath, but he left again without finding her.

_I think I've pushed my luck far enough_, she thought.

***

Snick scratched his chin as he studied Parika's rough drawing of the house. "Three guards, you say? That's pretty tight security for such a small place. It's probably for the best that you got out when you did. It's a wise thief who knows when to cut and run." 

The mild compliment did little to ease Parika's sense of failure. "I think I could do it with some help, but I don't think I could round up enough by myself." She had, in fact, tried to subtly recruit both Rachel and Nevroth, but neither had been very interested.

"I think we may take another approach to this," Snick mused, then shrugged. "It's not really my decision, though. Keep in touch; if there's any other work for you that comes up, I'll let you know."

DM Notes:
* This episode was actually played after the next post.


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## peteyfrogboy (Sep 10, 2003)

*The Phantom of the Opera: Part 1*

Between the coinage they found at the temple and the sale of their excess items, the three companions had amassed a sizeable amount of money. Much of it was spent at Blackhammer & Sons replacing some of their old weapons and armor with more finely crafted gear. 

Parika sat in the common room of the Goodhearth Inn, working her way through a bottle of thirty-year-old Disanne red. Her performance at the antique dealer's shop had left a bitter taste in her mouth, but the fine vintage was helping to wash it away.

The thief watched as Delthic came in from the street, dressed in his normal flashy attire. He was usually out performing this early in the evening; the absence of the tools of his trade piqued Parika's curiosity. The sight of Rachel descending the stairs diverted her attention, however.

Gone was the heavy sailor's coat and breeches, replaced by a blue silk gown fit for any aristocratic debutante. The cut of the gown was less restrictive than the current fashion among the elite, but quite popular among sea captains and well heeled warriors. Parika guessed that there were matching breeches beneath the voluminous skirts in case the excess fabric needed to be jettisoned. A finely wrought sword hilt shone at Rachel's hip -- the perfect accessory for such an outfit.

Floating behind like a shadow came Nevroth, clad in undecorated black doublet and breeches. The only ornament in the sea of dark velvet was a round copper pendant with a pierced uncial "M" -- the badge of a new-minted Journeyman Manhunter. The reward for finding Lucius was mere pocket change next to the treasures they had liberated, but the successful catch brought a boost to Nevroth's status. Parika smiled to herself; it amused her that the pirate hating lawman's closest companions were a buccaneer's daughter and a career thief.

Rachel approached Parika's table. She looked just as natural in her finery as she did in her warrior's mail. "Are you sure you don't want to come with us?"

Parika had forgotten about the "cultural event" the others had planned. She had little desire to sit through hours of dramatic monologues. "You go on," she said. "You can give me the highlights when you get back."

***

The Freeport Opera House had been bringing entertainment to the city for almost a century, including plays, operas, and orchestral performances. The current production of _The Jolly Bootmaker_ was far from the best ever to grace the stage. 

"It's a new play," explained Delthic during the intermission. "You have to allow for a few rewrites as they work through the rough spots." 

Rachel shrugged. It was enough for her just to mingle with people more civilized than common sailors. Even so, she smiled as she looked down into the cheap seats. Sailors and laborers talked and laughed among themselves; they seemed to enjoy the ribald tale of the philandering bootmaker despite its questionable artistic value.

The intermission seemed to stretch on for a long time. The audience began to grumble as they wondered about the delay. The complaints were cut short by a piercing scream that seemed to come from backstage. After a few moments of confusion, a small man -- no, a gnome -- stepped out from behind the curtain.

"Ah, due to some, uh, technical difficulties tonight's performance will have to be cut short. Please come back tomorrow night; I assure you that everything will be back in order by then." As the grumbling began anew and the word "refund" began to float in the air, the gnome blanched and rushed back behind the curtain.

Delthic frowned. "That doesn't sound good. I should go talk to him. I hope it's nothing serious."

The bard trotted backstage, followed by Rachel and Nevroth. Actors and stage crew huddled together in tight groups, talking worriedly among themselves. The gnome was pacing back and forth, pulling at his hair. As he caught sight of Delthic, he hurried over. "Oh, Delthic, it's awful! This sort of thing shouldn't happen to an honest gnome."

"Calm down, Gorsky," said Delthic, kneeling so he could look the gnome in the eye. "What's going on?"

The gnome pointed toward an area that everyone else seemed to be avoiding. Lying there was what appeared to be a body. "The leading man is dead, and on opening night! As if it wasn't enough to have that murderous ghost creeping around..." He seemed to notice Rachel and Nevroth for the first time and paused. "Uh, not that there's a ghost. Nope, no ghosts here." He turned back to Delthic. "What am I going to do?"

"That's horrible! Do you have any idea who did it?"

Gorsky threw up his hands. "Who knows? I can't keep track of the comings and goings of actors. It's enough work just trying to keep this place from going bankrupt without having to worry about murders as well."

"Maybe we can help you figure it out. Nevroth here is a Manhunter." He made brief introductions all around.

The gnome peered at Nevroth. "Good heavens, I didn't know we had any of those around here. If you can solve this mystery , I'll pay you, uh, fifty crowns." The thought of parting with that much coin seemed to pain the gnome far more than the loss of an actor.

Nevroth nodded. "I'll do my best." As Gorsky went off with Delthic to find something alcoholic to drink, Rachel and Nevroth went to examine the body. After a moment he stood back up. "I'd say he was strangled. Most likely with a rope."

Rachel looked around at the various ropes and cords hanging all around. "That doesn't narrow things down much. We need to figure out who would have wanted to kill him."


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## peteyfrogboy (Sep 10, 2003)

*The Phantom of the Opera: Part 2*

"Oh no, we all loved Albert." Catherine Lowery's makeup was streaked by tears. She had played the bootmaker's wife opposite the murdered actor. "He was the heart and soul of the troupe. It was his idea to come here, even. He used to work here years ago. There would be less competition, he said." She dabbed at her nose with a handkerchief. "I don't know anyone who would want to do this."

"What about the crew?" asked Nevroth. "Did he have any problems with them?"

The actress shrugged. "Not that I know of. But you just learn to ignore the stagehands, you know?"

"I see. Can you show me his dressing room?"

***

In her silk gown Rachel stood out among the stage crew. She was talking to a boy named Bruce who ran errands for the cast and crew. "Did any of the crew have anything against Albert?"

"Oh, is 'at what 'is name was?" Bruce scratched his head. "I don't think so. You just learn to ignore the actors, you know? Pull the ropes, move the sets, that's all you gotta do."

A burly man sidled up to Rachel, flexing his arms. "It's tough work, but no problem for guys like us. You get used to seeing weird stuff like this, too."

"Oh?" Rachel batted her eyes prettily. "Tell me all about it."

"Well, there's the ghost, o' course." There was a general mutter of agreement among the other crew. "But this weren't her. She scares 'em to death, she don't use a rope. Then there was that lady I found that one time, stone dead on the couch in her dressing room. What was her name?" He scratched his stubbled chin. "Ethel. That was it. Ethel Warwick. That was about six months back, I reckon."

Rachel raised an eyebrow. "Dead? Murdered?"

"Not that I could tell. Just lyin' there dead as a fish."

"Was she part of this acting troupe?"

"These guys? Nah, they ain't never been through here before."

***

Gorsky Glitterlights looked much calmer with a few glasses of brandy in him. "So, have you found anything out yet?"

Nevroth shook his head. "There aren't any suspects in the cast, and I didn't find anything out of the ordinary in his dressing room."

"No enemies in the crew, either," said Rachel. "I did find out about another death, though. Ethel Warwick. Do you remember her?"

The gnome rubbed his nose. "Warwick? Hm, let me think. You just learn to ignore the cast and crew, you know? Uh, yes, I think I remember her. Lovely lady. Pity about her dying, especially in the middle of a production."

"So this sort of thing happens often?" asked Nevroth.

"No, of course not. This isn't some Scurvytown flophouse."

"No other deaths or disappearances?" inquired Rachel.

"Not that I can... well, there was Roland. Never did figure out what that was about."

"Roland? Who was he?"

"Roland Honeystack. Fine actor, but he just stopped showing up in the middle of rehearsals. About a year back; didn't think much of it at the time. I figured he had some gambling debts that caught up with him or something. Freeport can be a dangerous place."

Nevroth shrugged. "Well, that doesn't help us much. There's no connection I see in any of this."

"No, wait," said Gorsky. "There is a connection. I remember now. Albert, Ethel, and Roland were all in a production together a few years back. _Winchell's Winerack_. I only remember it because it was an utter failure. Cost me a lot of money, it did." 

"Maybe someone blamed them for it?" theorized Rachel.

The gnome shook his head. "No, they were fine. Did the best they could, considering. It was that bum Lario Dupioni. He was fine during rehearsal but froze up like ice on stage. He was the lead, too. Three nights running they tried to drag him through that play before I had to shut it down."

"Have you heard from this Dupioni since?" asked Nevroth.

"Not a whisper. Not that I mind, of course. You think he might be involved?"

The manhunter nodded. "It's a good possibility. What does he look like?"

"Tall guy -- taller than most humans, I mean -- with greasy black hair, big teeth. Hard to miss. You know, now that you mention it..."

"I saw him," said Rachel. "Larry the stage hand."

***

Bruce looked around. "No, he left a little while ago."

Nevroth growled. "Any idea where he might have gone?"

The boy shook his head. Nevroth and Rachel started asking around the rest of the crew. One of the men recalled Larry complaining about where he lived. "Said he hated waking up fifty feet in the air. I bet he's staying at the Hammocks." Seeing a lack of recognition, he explained, "It's a converted warehouse with hammocks hung on columns up to the ceiling. It's not much, but very cheap."

The two investigators headed for the Warehouse district. Rachel loosened her new cutlass in its scabbard, looking forward to a little excitement. It wasn't hard to find the Hammocks, and soon they were standing inside the dimly lit building. The proprietor, a retired sailor by the name of Tyler, couldn't recall anyone matching Lario's description. Nevroth jogged the man's memory with a gold coin and he pointed to a hammock slung up near the ceiling. They could see a man up there, hurriedly packing a bag.

Rachel and Nevroth slowly drew their weapons, taking positions directly below their quarry. There was no other way for him to go but down. After a moment Lario started climbing down, then stopped as he saw people waiting below. He reached into his bag and pulled out a slender wooden wand. He tapped himself on the head with the wand and vanished.

Nevroth cursed. He and Rachel watched the spot where Lario had been, hoping to see some movement in the hammocks. Several of the other residents watched the scene, but seemed uninterested in interfering one way or the other. Listening carefully, Nevroth heard what sounded like off key singing from above him. A few heartbeats later he heard soft footfalls between him and the door. He sprinted toward the door, shouting at Tyler to close it. The manhunter swung his sword as he ran, but made no contact. Rachel stayed where she was, unsure of which way to go.

As he reached the door, Nevroth heard footsteps running toward the back of the warehouse. He ran that way, but didn't hear anything else. He made his way back toward the barred door, watching the dark corners of the warehouse. Suddenly, the door burst open. Nevroth turned and saw the bar on the floor. As he looked hopelessly out at the wharf, he saw a strolling longshoreman get knocked off his feet by an unseen force. One man fell down, but two got up and the now visible Lario took off running.

***

The chase wound its way most of the way across the city, first between the looming bulk of warehouses, then through the evening dockside crowds, and finally into the winding streets of Scurvytown. Lario ducked and wove, but couldn't avoid the keen eye of the pursuing manhunter. Rachel raced along in the rear, cursing her cumbersome skirt but unwilling to discard it.

Twice, when the hunters were within arm's reach of their quarry, a quick limerick from Lario confused his pursuer long enough for him to gain the lead again. In the end, however, the ex-actor was run to ground. Two quick strikes from the flat of Nevroth's finished the job. Rachel and Nevroth dragged the unconscious Lario back to the Opera House, fending off a few curious locals who tried to get in their way. By the time they returned to the scene of the crime, a few Guardsmen were performing a cursory investigation.

"Who's this?" asked the sergeant in charge.

Nevroth dropped the groggy murderer on the floor. "He's the killer."

"Is that so?" The sergeant motioned to two of his men, who dragged Lario to his feet. "Did you kill this man?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

The sergeant buried his fist in Lario's stomach, not hard enough to do real damage but with the promise that he could if he wished. "Don't play dumb with me. Did you kill him?"

Lario gasped as he tried to regain his breath. He glared down at the body. "Yeah, I did it. He deserved it for what he did to me. I was the greatest actor of my generation, but they ruined me! They all deserved to die."

"They?" asked Nevroth. "Who else did you kill?"

"So easy," said Lario, as if to himself. "Ethel, that talentless cow, she never saw me coming. All it took was a pillow over her face as she slept. Hardly even a challenge. Roland wasn't much harder. A knife in the back; simple, clean, classic." He glanced over at the manhunter. "The body's in Prop Room 4, in case you're curious."

The prop master blanched as Gorsky glared in his direction, explaining that that room was only used to store old sets and moth eaten costumes. The Guardsmen had heard enough. They hauled Lario away, presumably to rot in the Tombs if he was lucky.

DM Notes:
* This was based on a plot hook in the Freeport Opera House entry in _Freeport: City of Adventure_.


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## peteyfrogboy (Sep 12, 2003)

*Red Flags On The Horizon: Part 1*

Parika came downstairs late in the morning. She made a mental note that good wine felt the same as bad wine the next day, no matter how it tasted. The old man at the desk waved her over. "There was a man here earlier looking for you. I thought it best to let you sleep, so he left a message." He tapped a bony finger on his chin. "His name was... ah, yes. Burton Lund. He wanted to invite you and your friend to a party tonight at the Block and Tackle to celebrate the birth of his daughter. I'm not sure which friend he meant."

She thanked him and slid a silver noble across the desk. Gambumbo wouldn't be able to attend, but perhaps her new friends would be interested. Who could pass up free beer?

***

Evening found the three companions in the Warehouse District. They strolled between the hulking structures, following the directions they had gotten from Delthic. The bard seemed to know the location of every source of alcohol in the city. 

They finally came to a two-story building that was dwarfed by its neighbors. There was a small sign outside that read "The Block And Tackle", dangling from its namesake. They could hear loud voices from within as they approached; apparently the party had started without them. Just as they reached the door, a brightly clad sailor came crashing through the window into the street. 

From his mismatched finery and excessive jewelry, Nevroth quickly guessed that the defenestrated mariner made his living at piracy. The manhunter rarely passed up an opportunity to take his aggression out on buccaneers. He grabbed the dazed pirate by the back of his coat and threw him back through the window.

Parika opened the door onto a chaotic scene. Tables and chairs were overturned all across the bar. It looked like a battle between bears and peacocks, with burly longshoremen slamming their meaty fists into garishly festooned pirates. 

Rachel and Parika saw the bartender still calmly cleaning mugs, so they threaded their way through the melee in his direction. Meanwhile, Nevroth had climbed through the window and was joining in the brawl. The longshoremen seemed to have the upper hand. Three of them were ganged up on one unfortunate sea dog, while Burton himself was lifting a struggling lass over his head. 

Nevroth had sent his first opponent to the floor and spotted another who was not engaged. The manhunter strode his way. He took in the pirate's gaudy costume with disdain. Amidst the clashing colors and sparkling gold, Nevroth's eyes were drawn to the bandanna on the man's shaved head. It was blood red, emblazoned with a white fist wreathed in black flames. The blood drained from Nevroth's face as he reached for his sword.

***

_As the black fog began to clear away, he could see the red flag flying from the mast of the pirate ship. He tried to move, to hide, but the stinking black fog had insinuated itself into his limbs, rendering him motionless. The fog must have had the same effect on the grownups, as there were only a few screams and shouts heard as the raiders boarded their ship.

Pirates streamed in and out of the hold. They emerged bearing chests and crates, carrying them back to their own ship. The boy recognized some of the cargo as the silk that his parents were taking to sell in Cahiedra. 

_Mother? Father?_ He strained to move his eyes, searching for his parents among the frozen passengers. He saw his father near the aft of the ship, apparently unaffected by the fog. The cloth trader was trying to defend himself with a belaying pin, but could not stop the thrusting pike that pierced his chest.

As he tried vainly to scream, the boy caught sight of his mother as well. She was stiff as a board, being carried by two pirates onto their ship. Rage burned within him, slowly melting the ice in his arms and legs. As he felt himself able to move, he ran at the nearest pirate, swinging his fists blindly. The pirate laughed and struck him cruelly with the hilt of his cutlass._

***

The pirate leaped backward as Nevroth's sword jabbed at him. He fumbled at the bandolier of throwing knives across his chest. The surprised pirate dropped one of the knives in his haste, but sunk the other one in Nevroth's shoulder.

The manhunter ignored the pain, answering with a stab to his opponent's arm. The freebooter jumped up onto a table. "We've got a live one here, mateys!" After the initial shock at seeing live steel in a friendly bar brawl, the pirate had regained his composure. He grinned as he sent two more knives into Nevroth's flesh. The rest of the fight was essentially over. The bruised pirate girl was moving warily toward the door, while the longshoremen had formed a circle around the bizarre duel. Rachel and Parika shared a worried glance, but opted not to get involved unless they had to; they hadn't started this fight.

The knife-throwing pirate jumped back off the table, putting it between him and his attacker. As Nevroth jumped onto the table himself, two more knives pierced him, one in the thigh and the other just below the collarbone. Covered in his own blood, he fell to the floor.

Rachel's hand went to her own sword, but the pirate made no more to finish off his unconscious opponent. Parika kneeled beside the fallen manhunter and began binding his wounds.

The two pirates collected their own casualties and headed for the door. The knife-thrower seemed unconcerned about his own wound. "If your friend wants some more, we'll be in port." He left laughing.

Burton shook his head. "What was that all about?"

Satisfied that Nevroth would survive, Parika stood. "I have no clue. Who were those guys, anyway?"

"New in town is who they were." Burton chuckled. "Pirates in a longshoremen's bar. Not very bright." His eyes lit up as he remembered something. "Oh yeah, I didn't get a chance to ask you yet. I'd like you to be my daughter's godmother. If it weren't for you, she wouldn't have a daddy."

Parika blinked, stunned. "Uh, I'd be honored."

He grinned broadly. "Good!" He looked around. "Where's Gambumbo?"

"He's... not around anymore."

The longshoreman's brow furrowed. "Hm, that's too bad. Ah, well. I'll let you know the details later. The baptism's next month."


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## peteyfrogboy (Sep 12, 2003)

*Red Flags On The Horizon: Part 2*

It was three days before Nevroth was feeling well enough to leave the inn again. Parika and Rachel watched him go as they were eating their lunch.

"Think he'll be all right?" asked Rachel.

Parika shrugged. "He's a big boy. I'm sure he won't do anything stupid."

"Hm." Rachel sounded unconvinced. She chewed thoughtfully on a chunk of bread. "So those were the pirates that killed his parents?"

"Yep. Well, killed his father and kidnapped his mother, anyway."

"That was, what, ten years ago? Most of those guys were barely out of diapers by then."

"It's the same _group_ of pirates, though. Revenge isn't always logical."

Rachel thought of all the stories of pirate vengeance she had heard in her youth. None of them had happy endings. She shook her head. "It must be awful, losing your parents like that. And with no other family left to take care of you."

"Family's overrated." Parika gestured toward herself with one hand. "I grew up without parents or anyone, and I turned out just fine."

Rachel smiled. "More or less."

***

Nevroth stood in an alley between two warehouses, obscured by the afternoon shadows. His eyes were fixed on a small cutter tied up at a pier nearby. The red flag flapped in the wind, taunting him. Painted on the ship's bow was the name _Severed Thread_. Perhaps they preyed exclusively on cloth merchants.

The ship looked smaller than he remembered, but he had only been eight years old then. Part of him wanted to storm the ship and slay them all. The other part of him, the part that had helped him survive on the streets of Cahiedra, knew that there were too many. Worse yet, the one from the bar sat at the top of the gangplank, happily juggling knives.

He growled as he fingered his sword hilt. It was a cruel fate to be so close to taking the revenge he had sought for so long, yet to be unable to do anything about it. Frustrated, he turned and disappeared into the shadows.

***

Rachel opened one bleary eye. The sun was barely up, and someone was knocking on her door. She had one guess who. "Hold on, I'm coming," she yelled, and searched around for a pair of pants to throw on. It had been a week since Nevroth had first gone to look at the pirate ship. He'd been going crazy ever since, seeing them wandering around the docks and unable to do anything. Last night he had asked her to go talk to some of them and try to find out any useful information. That had, of course, involved a lot of drinking.

She went to the door and opened it a handbreadth. "Can't this wait?" The look on Nevroth's face was answer enough. She left the door open and went to sit on her bed.

Nevroth came inside and shut the door behind him. There was a chair, but he remained standing. "So? What did they say?"

Rachel smiled as she recalled some of the bawdier comments the sailors had made to her. "They said a lot of things. What exactly do you want to know?"

"Did they remember my mother? Did they know what happened to her?"

"I told you," she said, shaking her head, "They wouldn't have even been on the crew back then. They're just kids, most of them. Most of the people who would be old enough to remember are on the other ships."

Nevroth blinked. "Other ships?"

"There are two others, anchored out in the harbor. The one in port is the smallest of them."

"I see," said Nevroth. His hopes of revenge seemed to dim more with every revelation. "What else?"

"Let's see. Well, they don't target cloth merchants. They just go after whatever's available. Pretty typical strategy. The captain of the _Thread_ is one Moira Atropos. Ever heard of her?" Nevroth shook his head. "Me neither. Not surprising, since she's got the smallest ship in the fleet. The fleet commander is Robert Stackpole -- the name is a little familiar, but nothing I can put my finger on."

"Why are they here? How long will they be in port?"

"Ah, right. Did you notice how many pirates are in port right now? Every three months representatives from the various major nations come to Freeport to sell Letters of Marque." Seeing Nevroth's confused expression, she explained further. "Basically, a particular nation will hire a captain to attack and plunder their enemies, giving them protection and legal status while in the sponsoring country's waters. It's more restrictive in some ways than freelance piracy, but it also gives a measure of safety in some situations and a possibility for more profit. Pirates who have Letters of Marque are called privateers." Her father would call them "gutless sellouts", but that was another matter altogether. "At any rate, they'll only be in port another week."

"Okay. Thanks a lot, Rachel."

"No problem." She had actually enjoyed carousing with pirates; it was like being home again.

There was a knock at the door. Rachel raised an eyebrow. "Who is it?"

A familiar young voice replied, "It's Julio, Miss Rachel." The boy did various odd jobs around the inn. "Have you seen Mister Nevroth?"

"I'm here," said the manhunter. "What is it?"

"There's someone downstairs looking for you."

Nevroth and Rachel shared a look, but neither seemed to have any idea who it might be.

"Tell them I'll be right down."

***

Nevroth went to his room first, not wanting to meet any strangers unarmed. Rachel went and woke Parika, and the two women tagged along behind to see what was going on. Coming down the stairs, Nevroth saw a red-haired woman wearing a pirate captain's finery.

"So you're the one who's been drawing steel on my men and sending your friends to squeeze them for information? Just who do you think you are?"

Even after ten years, even with red hair and scars, Nevroth couldn't mistake her. "I'm your son."

Moira cocked her head to one side. "So you are. You seem to be doing well."

"As do you. I assumed you were dead all these years. Why else would you not come back for me?"

"Oh, I was doing you a favor. I was never cut out to be a mother. I certainly ever _wanted_ to be one. Not that I had any choice in the matter." She smiled. "But you turned out fine without my help, didn't you? A Manhunter, I see. That's a good career. I'm impressed. And you've got a lovely girlfriend there." Rachel and Parika looked at each other, wondering which one she was talking about. "You know, I could always use another good strong lad on my crew, if you're interested."

"I don't think so." Nevroth's voice had grown cold. He was beginning to prefer the idea of his mother being dead to the reality. "What about Father? Don't you care that they killed him?"

"Well, I admit I was pretty upset by it at first. But I soon realized they had done me a favor. I could have spent the rest of my life shipping bolts of cloth back and forth, making babies, and being utterly miserable. Instead I got freedom and excitement, and became independently wealthy. Not a bad change, if you ask me."

Rachel spoke from her seat on the stairs. "If you don't mind my asking, how did you get from being a prisoner to being a captain?"

"Well, it's a long story, but I can tell it short. After I got captured, the ship -- there was just the one back then -- hit a storm going through the Twelve Sisters."

"The Twelve Sisters?" interjected Rachel. "When, in the winter?"

Moira grinned. "Indeed. It was a fool's risk, but they had someone chasing them. At any rate, they lost the other ship but also got their sails torn to shreds. There were a lot of repairs to be made, and not enough supplies to go around. I offered to help with the sewing; it was better than being thrown overboard. Once we were all working together, I got to know the crew. A finer bunch of sea dogs I've never met.

"Now I'm guessing by your accent that you're from Jal Kufri." Rachel nodded. "Well, it may seem normal to you to have women on a ship's crew, but I was a naive Midland girl. The thought had never occurred to me. I was brought up to be a wife and mother and do what I was told, and that's the only life I knew of. By the time we finally got enough canvas patched together to get moving again, I was a sailor, free to do as I pleased. The rest was just time and ambition."

Nevroth simply stared. "So that's it? You're a pirate now?"

"Well, in a week or so I'll be a privateer, if it makes you feel any better."

Nevroth's sword hand twitched. Part of him wanted to put a blade through this creature that wore his mother's face. That other part of him reminded him that she could probably fillet him with the rapier at her hip.

Moira sighed. "Well, I don't know what you expect from me. If you want blood money for your father, I'll gladly pay it." Her voice took on a harder edge. "If it's blood you want, you'll have to take it yourself."

With that, she turned on her heel and walked out.


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## pogre (Sep 14, 2003)

> "Yeah, I did it. He deserved it for what he did to me. I was the greatest actor of my generation, but they ruined me! They all deserved to die."




Ah my favorite ending of every _Murder She Wrote_ episode. Sadly, it is pretty true to life in my experience. If it were not for confessions, the job of law enforcement would be much tougher. And we do not even get to punch them in the stomach.

I like how Nevroth's background played out, but I wonder if the player was dissapointed/frustrated. Was this a joint decision or just part of the adventure?

Great stuff - keep it up


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## peteyfrogboy (Sep 14, 2003)

pogre said:
			
		

> Ah my favorite ending of every _Murder She Wrote_ episode. Sadly, it is pretty true to life in my experience. If it were not for confessions, the job of law enforcement would be much tougher. And we do not even get to punch them in the stomach.




I decided to streamline the process in this instance. We're playing D&D, not Law & Order. 



> I like how Nevroth's background played out, but I wonder if the player was dissapointed/frustrated. Was this a joint decision or just part of the adventure?




I don't know about the player, but the character was mighty put out by it.  I take full responsibility for the outcome of Nevroth's backstory. I'm not sure how much of a surprise it was, though. The players were coming up with a variety of theories, including "maybe she became a pirate".



> Great stuff - keep it up




Thanks! I'm only one scene behind the game now, but I'm going to wait on the next update until some more of the plot plays out. We're playing tomorrow, so hopefully it'll be soon.

_Note: We didn't get to play after all, so no updates until next week._


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## Smeege The Mighty (Sep 14, 2003)

I don't know about the player, but the character was mighty put out by it.  I take full responsibility for the outcome of Nevroth's backstory. I'm not sure how much of a surprise it was, though. The players were coming up with a variety of theories, including "maybe she became a pirate".

Nevroth's player here.  When I came up with his background story, I had his mother kidnapped to provide a convienent plot-hook.  I fully expected her to be brought back, probably as a pirate.  Didn't think she'd be a ship's captain, or quite the b*tch she turned out to be (much of her attitude was left out of the DM's post).

Another minor detail left out was at the end, when she basically challenged me to a fight, Nevroth told her that he wouldn't stoop to the level of attacking her.  However, he (and I) was faced with a tough choice.  His alignment was Chaotic Good.  This encounter was going to change that, but I wasn't sure in what direction.  I considered shifting to Neutral Good, eventually becoming LG.  This would have been this proving that law and order was desperately needed.

Instead, he's gone to CN, deciding to more directly express his hatred of pirates in general, and that crew specifically.  Parika (who's player happens to be my wife... yes, I got lucky and married a gamer!) has volunteered to aid him in this hunt, in exchange for any loot we find.  Hopefully, this will turn out well, as I really don't want to make another character just yet.


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## pogre (Sep 14, 2003)

> Instead, he's gone to CN, deciding to more directly express his hatred of pirates in general, and that crew specifically.




Oooooo MAN! I love PC grudges!


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## pogre (Sep 23, 2003)

A friendly *bump* to ask: Have you played yet?


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## peteyfrogboy (Sep 23, 2003)

pogre said:
			
		

> A friendly *bump* to ask: Have you played yet?




Yay, my first bump! Unfortunately, we haven't gotten to play yet. In the meantime I've been starting up a PBEM for a friend of mine with no access to local gamers. Because of the speed difference between live gaming and PBEMs, I set the new game on the mainland. Not only does this keep me from having to deal with conflicting calendars, but it has also forced me to detail a lot of the mainland. I haven't decided yet if I'll post it as a story hour, but it should be very easy to do so. We'll just have to see how it progresses.


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## peteyfrogboy (Sep 29, 2003)

*Terror In Freeport: Part 1*

*WARNING: This section contains spoilers for the Green Ronin module Terror in Freeport. Read at your own risk.*

Brother Edwin walked into the inn, passing Moira as she left. He waved to the three companions. "Oh, I'm glad you're here. I think I might need your help again." He went on to explain that he had been feeling uneasy lately, as if people were watching him. He also had a suspicion that the cult temple they had found was not being cleaned out like the authorities claimed it was. To top it off, he had taken Lucius home after the librarian had had a fainting spell at the temple, and as he put him to bed he saw a strange figure come into the room and steal one of Lucius's scrolls. he had been too afraid to confront the mysterious thief, but he felt sure that it was no mere burglar. Rachel and Parika agreed to help, not only because the priest was offering them a reward but also as a distraction for Nevroth. 

***

"This is the place, eh?" asked Rachel dubiously.

Parika scrutinized the run-down inn. It was crammed in between two shops in the shadow of the Old City's high wall. "Edwin said that Milos was using the alias 'Devlin', and my sources tell me that someone named Devlin was staying here at the Marquis Moon."

Nevroth was in no mood for discussion, and he went in the door. Aside from a couple of early bird drunkards nodding off in a corner, the only person in the common room was a gangly youth behind the desk cleaning his fingernails with a knife. 

"I'm looking for a friend of mine named Devlin. He said he was staying here. Where can I find him?" asked Nevroth.

"Don't know, don't care," said the young man, not looking up from his grooming.

The manhunter reached out and grabbed the front of the boy's shirt, pulling him halfway across the desk. The knife went clattering to the floor. "You'd better start caring. Devlin. Which room?"

"Se-second floor. Third door on the right."

***

Parika pushed the door open. "Hardly a challenge," she said as she put away her lockpicks. The room beyond was packed full of books and other curiosities, with shelves lining every wall. It was clearly more than a bolt hole for the false priest. The three of them fanned out, searching through the room.

"No bed," noted Rachel as she poked through a pile of pillows on the floor. A few reptilian scales fell out from between them. "Just this little snake nest. Nothing here, though."

Nevroth examined a collection of snake-headed but otherwise unremarkable staves. He also opened the small stove, finding nothing but greasy ashes smelling vaguely of incense. "Nor here"

Parika went over the shelves with the practices eye of a burglar. She found a lead idol that was the mirror of the one in the hidden temple. She also noticed that some of the books seemed to have been removed, replaced with common volumes of fiction. Most of the others dealt with masonry, architecture, and other construction-related subjects. Peering behind one of the bookcases, she saw that one book had fallen down and gotten wedged against the wall. She worked it free and examined it. _An Account of Mettalls Base and Pure_ -- it didn't sound like the sort of book that would make her eyes bleed. She flipped through it, finding little but dry metallurgical information. At the back of it, however, she found a strange drawing. "I think I may have found something."

"What is it?" asked Rachel as she abandoned her fruitless search.

"I'm not sure," said the thief. "It looks like a drawing of a building. There are some strange markings with arrows pointing at parts of it, and this symbol appears al lot." She pointed at a glyph shaped like the letter "V" inscribed in a circle. She close the book and slipped it in her pack. "Maybe Edwin can make something of it."

Nevroth was looking at some other items on the shelves, including a collection of what looked like albino rats in a black syrupy substance. He tapped on one of the jars and the rat inside came to life, scrabbling at the glass. The two women looked at the creature with disgust, but Nevroth took the jar down of the shelf. "Interesting," he said. "Who knows when this might come in handy."

***

The sun was high overhead by the time they left the Marquis Moon. Their discussions of lunch plans were cut short as they saw the scene out in the street. Three burly orcs were menacing a young man carrying a messenger's satchel. "Help!" he cried. The orcs looked up at the newcomers and growled at them. They broke off from their victim and charged Nevroth, who happened to be the first one out the door.

Parika and Rachel dove to the sides as the orcs surrounded Nevroth. The half-elf reached for her bow and backed away, not relishing the thought of close contact with the snarling orcs. Rachel drew her cutlass and slashed at one of them, jumping back before the orc could swing his axe in return. Meanwhile, Nevroth tried desperately to hold his ground against the three attackers. The messenger ran to hide behind Rachel.

Nevroth managed to slice one of the orcs, but he took more punishment than he gave. Parika tried to land an arrow in one of the orcs but couldn't get a clean shot with Nevroth in the middle of them. Rachel continued to jump in and out of the melee, cutting one of the orcs each time. As she backed out, however, she felt a searing pain in her back. Looking over her shoulder, she saw the messenger grinning and holding a bloody dagger. He scrambled away from her, taking refuge behind one of the orcs. Rachel cursed, but went in to slash one of the orcs again, finally sending it to the ground. Unfortunately, the other two kept hacking at the bloody manhunter, taking him out of the fight as well.

Parika stepped back and fired again, but she was still close enough for one of the orcs to rush her, delivering a powerful blow to her chest. She withdrew from the fight, diving into a nearby alley. Rachel stood her ground now, trading blows with the other orc. She got in around his guard and slashed him across the throat. The messenger knew which way the wind was blowing by this point, and ran off down the street.

Restored by one of Edwin's healing elixirs, Parika emerged and feathered the remaining orc again. Between her and Rachel, it was soon lying next to its comrades. The women found Nevroth to still be alive, if only barely. They picked him up and rushed toward the temple of St. Fargoth.

DM Notes:
* I should have scaled back the fight with the orcs, since the party was short handed and low level. Nevroth really should have been dead, but with a couple points of DM fiat healing he was actually able to stabilize on his own. I can forgive myself a little fudge since I forgot to adjust the diffiuclty properly.
* I was just reading through the back half of the module and I realized that I inadvertently moved the bricked up building to Scurvytown. I did it from the very beginning, so at least I've been consistent. On my map it's in the Eastern District where it's supposed to be, though. Oh well, nobody's perfect.


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## peteyfrogboy (Sep 30, 2003)

*Terror In Freeport: Part 2*

"Orcs attacking you on the street?" asked Edwin. "That's bizarre. At least, in that part of town it is."

Nevroth grimaced. His freshly healed wounds were still raw and aching. "Someone was watching that place and waiting for us." He looked at Parika. "Do you still have the book?"

The half-elf nodded, taking it from her pack and handing it to Edwin. She showed him the drwing on its last page. "What do you make of that?"

Edwin examined the drawing, his brow furrowed in thought. "It looks like a drawing of Drac's lighthouse, with some sort of mathematical formulas I don't understand. I wonder what Milos -- Devlin, whoever -- would have to do with it."

Nevroth scratched his chin. "The lighthouse, eh?" He recalled seeing the tower on his way to the city. It was situated on a smaller island south of Freeport's harbor. "Maybe we should go check it out."

Edwin frowned. "I don't know that tht would be wise. Milton Drac has been building that thing for ten years, and it's due to be opened next month. I doubt that we could get past the security there without more reason than our vague suspicions."

"Then where else should we look?" asked Rachel.

"Well, I still think there's something going on in that old temple," said Edwin. "It might be worth checking out. Perhaps there's some other evidence there that we missed before?"

***

Parika ducked her head back around the corner. "Damn. There are guards out front. They're wearing armbands with a "V" inside a circle, like we saw on that drawing."

Edwin raised an eyebrow. He peeked around the corner quickly. "Interesting. Those are some of Verlaine's private guardsmen. I hadn't made the connection before."

"Verlaine?" asked Rachel. "Who's that?"

"He's the head of the Captain's Council. Very powerful -- not someone we would want to make angry. Though if the markings on that drawing were referring to him... I just don't know what to make of it."

Parika frowned. "Well, I guess storming the door is out, then. Maybe we could try to distract them somehow?" She looked down at her slim frame, then over at Rachel's curvier physique.

"Oh, I don't think so."

"Not to worry, ladies," interjected Nevroth. "I have a plan."

***

Nevroth tapped the badge hanging around his neck. "We need to go inside. Official Manhunter business."

One of the guards, a stout man with a bushy black beard, glanced at his two companions, then back at Nevroth. "What business?" he asked dubiously.

"I'm tracking a criminal, and I have reason to believe he may be hiding in this building. It's very important that I find him quickly."

"Yeah? Who sent you?"

The manhunter shook his head. "I'm afraid I can't say. Confidentiality, you know."

The guard crossed his arms. "We would have seen anyone going in our out," replied the guard. "What does he look like? Maybe we've seen him."

Rachel stepped up to the man, hands on her hips. "Look, buddy, I don't think your boss would be happy with you stalling us like this, if you know what I mean." 

The guard blinked. He paused for a moment, then shrugged. "Whatever. You can go in, just don't touch anything." He motioned to one of the other guards. "Franz, you go in with 'em."

***

They left Franz behind in the cellar; he said he would wait for them there. For whatever reason he wasn't interested in following them all the way into the temple complex.

"What were you talking about back there, "If you know what I mean"?" asked Parika. 

Rachel just smiled and shrugged. "I was just making stuff up. It worked, didn't it?"

Edwin had set his amulet glowing again, and the dark tunnels looked much the same as they had before. The pit was wedged open this time, though, and they could see the bloodstains below from their previous battle. The secret passage was closed, however. Parika found the catch again and swung the door open. "Nothing here," she said. After a moment, she added, "I think I might hear something, though. Nevroth, let's you and I scout up ahead." She gestured at Edwin and Parika. "You two follow behind a ways, I don't want the light to give us away, but if there's trouble we'll need you close."

Nevroth and Parika felt their way along the winding tunnel. The sounds Parika had heard were getting louder; it sounded as though there were people moving around in the cavern up ahead. Soon they saw a dim light illuminating the damp walls of the cave. They moved forward to investigate, but as they reached the cavern Parika's boot scuffed against a rock. A voice hissed, "Intruders!"

Nevroth looked into the cavern, seeing three serpent men carrying crates and a human woman wearing a glowing medallion. He charged two of the serpent men, drawing blood on one of them with his short sword. Parika stayed back within the tunnel, firing an arrow into the one serpent man that she could see. Edwin ran up at the sounds of battle, but Parika waved him back. "There's light here already. Stay back where it's safe." 

The serpent men hissed in anger, dropping their crates to the floor. They had no weapons, but they still had their fanged mouths. One of the two facing Mevroth sunk his teeth into the manhunter, but its poison was not strong enough to affect him. The other skirted the melee, leaping at Parika but unable to land a bite on her. Rachel came running up through the tunnel at this point, ready to put her cutlass to work. Parika and Edwin got out of the chargin warrior's way, and she shoved the slender serpent man back into the cavern.

The female cultist circled around to where she could see down the tunnel. She gestured at Rachel and uttered a profane syllable, causing Rachel to cringe with a cold -- and all too familiar -- sense of fear.

Meanwhile, Nevroth struck down one of the serpent men with a slash and thrust of his swords, turning to face the other. Parika tried to shoot past the others in the tunnel at the cultist, but couldn't get a clear shot. Edwin withdrew as he had been ordered, taking the light back down the tunnel. Parika was in shadow now, though she could still see her targets. The serpent men continued their onslaught, though Nevroth was again able to resist the burning venom. Rachel turned and ran blindly down the tunnel toward the retreating light.

The cultist grimaced and thrust her spear at Nevroth, but failed to penetrate his armor. As Parika finally slew the creature in front of her, the cultist gestured and muttered a few words. Mist rose up from around her fet, soon filling the chamber. Nevroth could hear the sounds of footsteps retreating, and soon the cavern was dark. Despite the fog and darkness, he and Parika were still able to take down the last of the serpent men. 

By the time Rachel had returned, there was no one left to fight. She wanted to hunt down the cultist, but the others figured that she was long gone. Besides, they reasoned, Edwin had the only light, and they would need that to examine the crates that had been left behind.

"Fine," grunted Rachel. "But if I see her again, I'm going to gut her like a fish!"

***

Parika looked at the contents of the crate and scratched her head. "Okay, gold goblets I can understand. I can sell them, even, which makes me happy. But bricks? What are they doing carrying around bricks?"

"I don't know," said Nevroth as he examined one of the stone blocks. He ran his fingers along the side of the brick. "What's this? It feels like there's a seam through the center of it." He set the brick on the floor and bashed it with the pommel of his short sword until it cracked along the seam. Revealed in the center of the brick was the same twisting symbol they  had seem elsewhere in the temple, painted in gold.

"That's bizarre," said Parika. "Who would put that in a brick?"

"Maybe it's some sort of secret society thing. Maybe if there's one of these bricks at a certain location in the house, then a cult member lives there?"

Parika shrugged. "Maybe. Or they could be used to dedicate a building to evil. Either way, I don't like it." She turned to Edwin. "Can you tell if they're magical?"

The priest chanted briefly, then gazed at the pile of bricks. "No, no enchantments."

"Hm. Well, I'd feel better if we could bless them or something, in case there's something evil about them."

"I could perform a consecration ritual," offered Edwin. "We could put them in the old temple and kil two birds with one stone. I don't know how much good it would do, but it couldn't hurt."

Parika nodded. "Sounds good."

Rachel picked up the lid of the crate. "So what about this? It says here that these were coming from someplace called "Bierce Vintners" and going to 100 Wave Avenue."

"I haven't heard of Bierce Vintners," said Edwin, "but Wave Avenue is just about the most expensive place you can live in Freeport."

"Interesting," said Parika. "We'll have to check that out. But tomorrow, I think."

Edwin nodded. "All right. I'll head back to the temple after I do the ritual and get in touch with you tomorrow."

"I could use some sleep after all this... not fighting," said Rachel. "Back to the inn, then?"

"You go ahead," said Nevroth. He turned to Parika and grinned. "I think it's time to go take care of that business we were talking about."


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## DiFier (Sep 30, 2003)

Woo hoo another Freeport story hour.  good going.  it's fun to see what other people do with these modules.


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## peteyfrogboy (Sep 30, 2003)

Thanks for stopping by! You guys have set the bar pretty high as far as Freeport story hours go.


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## peteyfrogboy (Oct 1, 2003)

*Interlude: The Morning After*

Parika woke with a start, her hands clammy with sweat. She sat up in bed. The night had not been a restful one. Nevroth's "business" had left her feeling uneasy, and her sleep had been plagued by disturbing dreams. She picked up her brush from the bedside table and started working the tangles from her hair. It was a familiar task, and one that gave her some comfort.

It had sounded straightforward enough when Nevroth suggested it: since he couldn't seek direct vengeance on his mother, he planned to take his revenge on her crew. It was a simple plan, and it went as smoothly as any she had ever seen. Nevroth had found two of the pirates in port and followed them into a bar. Somehow he had even befriended them, tagging along on their pub crawl. By the end of the night they were all staggering, but Nevroth was in fact still sober. He had led them into the shadows of Scurvytown, using a roving gang as an excuse to detour down a dark alley. Between Nevroth's swords and her arrows from the dark, two inebriated pirates were hardly a challenge to slay. 

She set the brush back down next to two small coin purses. Normally a double handful of coins would bring her happiness, but she couldn't even bring herself to count them. Parika had stolen before without remorse. She had even killed, whether in self defense or -- all too often, of late -- fighting evil cults. But this... this was different. Nevroth called it vengeance, justice, and maybe for him it was. Who were these men to her, though? She had told herself she was in it for the money, and nothing more; what did that make her? Mercenary? Assassin?

Parika shook her head. She had never known before what line she would not cross to achieve her dreams of greatness; she was not about to trade her dreams for nightmares. If Nevroth wanted to hunt again, he would be hunting alone.


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## DiFier (Oct 1, 2003)

peteyfrogboy said:
			
		

> Parika woke with a start, her hands clammy with sweat. She sat up in bed. The night had not been a restful one. Nevroth's "business" had left her feeling uneasy, and her sleep had been plagued by disturbing dreams. She picked up her brush from the bedside table and started working the tangles from her hair. It was a familiar task, and one that gave her some comfort.
> 
> It had sounded straightforward enough when Nevroth suggested it: since he couldn't seek direct vengeance on his mother, he planned to take his revenge on her crew. It was a simple plan, and it went as smoothly as any she had ever seen. Nevroth had found two of the pirates in port and followed them into a bar. Somehow he had even befriended them, tagging along on their pub crawl. By the end of the night they were all staggering, but Nevroth was in fact still sober. He had led them into the shadows of Scurvytown, using a roving gang as an excuse to detour down a dark alley. Between Nevroth's swords and her arrows from the dark, two inebriated pirates were hardly a challenge to slay.
> 
> ...




Wow your manhunter sounds like he's quickly stampieding past CN to CE.  or maybe LE.  killing 2 people who may or may have not killed your father or may or may not been a member of the crew when he was killed in cold blood sounds evil to me.


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## peteyfrogboy (Oct 1, 2003)

DiFier said:
			
		

> Wow your manhunter sounds like he's quickly stampieding past CN to CE.  or maybe LE.  killing 2 people who may or may have not killed your father or may or may not been a member of the crew when he was killed in cold blood sounds evil to me.




He started out CG, and is now definitely CN. Interestingly, Parika was CN and is now sliding toward CG. How will all of this turn out? I have some ideas, but you'll have to tune in to find out. 

I'm pretty sure we won't be playing this coming weekend, but the next weekend should (hopefully) see the conclusion of _Terror In Freeport_.


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## Smeege The Mighty (Oct 2, 2003)

*Interlude:  The Morning After II*

Nevroth awoke fully rested for the first time since the encounter in the Block and Tackle.  He thought back on the previous night's events as he dressed.  

He had planned on merely following the pair of pirates until an opportunity presented itself.  Sitting near them in the bar, he had been pleasantly surprised when they challenged him to a game of darts.  After that, they invited him to join in their pub crawl.  It had been simple enough to steer the drunken fools down an alley.  When they both decided to relieve themselves against a wall, he drew his swords and struck.  Before the other could react, an arrow from the shadows took him in the chest.  Obviously, Parika had kept her eyes open.  Nevroth laughed as one of the pirates recovered enough wits to exclaim, "But we thought you were our friend!"  He couldn't honestly consider killing them to be a fight.  Drunk and off guard, they offered almost no resistance at all.

When it was over, he took their headbands, leaving the bodies as they lay, with their pants still around their ankles.  Watching Parika carefully retrieve her arrows, and seeing the way she kept looking around, he guessed she was having second thoughts about the night's activities.  That was fine with him.  She had proven to be a worthy companion, and he trusted her at his side in a fight.  But it had been wrong to ask her to join in his crusade.  This quest for vengance was his, not hers.  From now on, he would hunt alone.

*As the DM pointed out, 100% of my characters (all two of them)  in the Freeport campaign have lured people to their deaths in Scurvytown.  I really don't plan on Nevroth turning evil, but this revenge thing is going to remain a driving force in his life.  Only time will tell, I suppose.


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## peteyfrogboy (Oct 4, 2003)

*Terror In Freeport: Part 3*

A group of three well dressed pedestrians was nothing out of the ordinary amid the morning traffic on Wave Avenue. They strolled past blocks of gilded townhouses and high priced boutiques, but they were not in the Merchant District for simple sightseeing. They slowed as they reached a section of free standing mansions, each an individual display of incredible wealth and exquisite taste. In the middle of these was 100 Wave Avenue.

"It figures," muttered Rachel. Swaying in the morning breeze were banners bearing the now familiar crest of Councillor Verlaine. She glanced at Parika. "What do you think?"

The burglar counted the guards arrayed around the building and assessed the barred windows and spiked roofline. "There's no way we are getting in there." She led the small group in a subtle about face that would take them back to the Old City.

"So what now?" asked Nevroth.

"I'll check with my sources and see what I can dig up about this guy," said Parika. "Maybe he's got a weak spot somewhere."

***

Parika felt more comfortable back in her normal clothes, but no better about her situation. Snick apparently didn't keep up with the intricacies of Freeport politics. He had seemed curious about who she was working for and why she was looking for dirt on Verlaine, but she didn't give him any hints. The best advice he had was to check the Office of Public Records. It didn't seem like a very exciting proposition, but it was the only one left.

"This is it," said Nevroth. They stood before a massive structure, nearly indistinguishable from its neighbors in the Warehouse District. Only the sign outside revealed the Office of Public Records for what it was.

The door opened into a large room filled with shelves. Each shelf was packed with papers, ledgers, book, and scrolls. There was no apparent order to the mess. A grizzled, middle-aged man sat behind a desk sorting through a stack of paper. He looked up as the door opened. "Whatcha lookin' fer?"

Parika glanced around. "Oh, we just wanted to take a look around."

The man shrugged. "Suit yerself." He jerked his thumb toward a door marked "Records". 

The half-elf opened the door and stepped through. In the dim light she could see the cavernous interior of the warehouse, with shelves towering all the way to the ceiling. They seemed to use the same filing system as the outer room. Parika stepped back into the office. "Uh... maybe we could use a little help."

"I thought ya might," said the man, chuckling. 

***

Nevroth flipped back and forth through the pages of a large ledger. "This Verlaine guy looks like just a run of the mill merchant. An exceptionally successful merchant, but that's all. Imports, exports, a stake in several businesses around the city. Nothing suspicious here."

"Nothing unusual that I can see either," said Parika. "He doesn't appear in any of the Captains' Council minutes until right after Milton Drac became Sea Lord, and then he shoots straight to the top of the heap."

The record keeper, who had eventually introduced himself as Reed, approached the book strewn table with another armload of books. He set the stack down with a thump. "So you're trying to dig up dirt on Verlaine, eh?"

Parika shrugged. "Just taking an interest in local affairs."

Reed grunted and turned to leave. Before he could go, Rachel stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. When he looked back at her, she batted her eyes. "I'm sure an important official like yourself has some opinion on Verlaine. I'd love to hear what you have to say."

Reed gave her a yellow-toothed grin. "Well, I can't say as I have much love for the man. He ain't done much but line his own pockets since he's been on the Council. And just the other day he sent his thugs in here to go diggin' around in my files, the filthy wretches."

"Oh?" asked Rachel. "What were they looking for?"

"Old maps of Scurvytown. I told 'em there hadn't been a useful map o' that place in fifty years, but they kept _demanding_ one, so I gave 'em what I had. And _then_ they said they needed maps o' the sewers, too. I don't know what they was lookin' fer, but they made a right mess that I ain't had time to clean up yet."

"Do you think we might be able to take a look at those maps?"

"Sure, they're, ah, over there on the floor. I'd get 'em, but my back is killin' me."

Rachel thanked him and helpfully bent over to retrieve the maps. Parika rolled her eyes. Soon the maps were rolled out on the table, and they began studying them. "Whoever those guys were," said Parika, "they weren't the cleanest people in the world." She indicated a number of greasy fingerprints around the map. One particularly nasty spot was on a sewer entrance in Scurvytown.

Nevroth checked the spot against the old street map and nodded. "That looks like it's right behind the temple."

Meanwhile, Rachel was scrutinizing the sewer map. She traced one of the sewer lines with her finger. "They left us a trail, too. It goes all the way across town into the Merchant District, but it trails off there. Interesting."

Parika found a sheet of parchment and made a rough copy of the route. She tucked it away in her pack and stood up. "Well, that should give us something to go on. Lets get moving."

They packed up their gear and Rachel thanked Reed sweetly. They left the cackling record keeper behind and went back out into the afternoon sun. Their conversation ground to a quick halt as they saw a large group of armed men surrounding the records office, all bearing Verlaine's seal.

"Your presence is requested at the Courts by Councillor Verlaine. Please come with us."


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## peteyfrogboy (Oct 6, 2003)

*Terror In Freeport: Part 4*

Rachel walked along between the ranks of Verlaine's guards, headed toward the wall surrounding the Old City. "This doesn't look good," she muttered.

Nevroth shrugged. "Well, they didn't actually say we were under arrest."

"Somehow that's not very comforting," grumbled Parika.

On the far side of the Old City lay a walled complex containing, among other municipal buildings, the low granite building housing the Courts. It wasn't much to look at, with no architectural details of note save the large city seal carved above the doors, but it was ominous enough nonetheless.

Soon the three detainees found themselves in a courtroom, empty save for the guards that had escorted them and a like number already arrayed around the room. They were asked to surrender their weapons, which they did, save for a couple of concealed daggers that the guards failed to find during their cursory inspection. Two small knives against a dozen armed guardsmen was more of a joke than a plan, but it made them feel better.

It seemed like hours before the door finally opened again. The sour-faced man who entered was unfamiliar to them, but the rich robes he wore bore a familiar seal: this was undoubtedly Councillor Verlaine.

"Adventurers." He spat the word like a curse. "I know your type, I've certainly seen enough stomp their way through this city, looking under rocks for stray coins and kicking down doors." He shook his head. "I don't know who you are, and frankly I don't care. I don't deny that you have done some valuable work for the city, but that doesn't give you the right to go poking around where you're not welcome. No matter what flimsy excuses you come up with." He glared at Nevroth.

"I don't know what you were after down in that old cult hideout, but I'm sure it wasn't anything legal. I want you out of my city by dawn. I've got a fleet of ships in the harbor that can ferry you elsewhere; you can take your pick of them." He turned to the captain of his guard. "Lloyd, make sure they get on board without any... problems." Verlaine gave them a final sneer and walked out.

"Well, that could have gone worse," muttered Nevroth.

"Bah," grunted Parika. "Let's pack up our weapons and put this town behind us."

Lloyd put his hand on his sword hilt. "I don't think you're going to be needing those. We'll keep you safe until you get on your boat."

Rachel narrowed her eyes at the captain. "Hey, I paid good money for that sword!"

"Oh, I'm sure we'll find a good use for it. We can always use new weapons."

Before any ill-advised violence could erupt, the courtroom doors burst open. A breathless Edwin trotted in, waving a rolled-up parchment. He showed it to Lloyd and the two exchanged a few words. The captain looked at the scroll distastefully, but eventually nodded and led his men back out the door, leaving the pile of weapons unguarded.

Edwin approached the three companions as they retrieved their gear. "I'm glad I found you in time. I don't know what was going to happen to you, but I can only assume it was the same thing they had planned for poor Lucius. I'm afraid he's been taken again. I heard him cry out and found his room empty, but when I got out to the street there was no sign of him or his captors. I came looking for you but couldn't find you at the inn."

Rachel hung her cutlass back in its proper place. "How did you know where we were?"

"I suspected that something might have happened to you, but I knew that you couldn't be taken purely by force. I knew the serpent cult must have used some human agency to snare you. I asked a member of the Guard and he confirmed that you had been taken here. Fortunately, I was able to get Monsignor Thuron to use his clout to convince a sympathetic Councillor to draw up a writ for your release. You were declared wards of the temple and under or protection. I can only hope that it buys us enough time to find poor Lucius."

The group left the Courts, making their way out of the Old City and back to more familiar territory. "Where do you think they might have taken Lucius?"

"I don't know exactly how," said Parika, "but Verlaine is involved in all of this somehow. We found a map that his men had been using to find a route from the old cult temple through the sewers to the Merchant District. Maybe that's where they took him."

***

Rachel grunted as she lifted the manhole cover, revealing a dark hole leading into the bowels of Freeport. Nevroth pulled a lantern from his pack, and soon he had a bright beam of light shining down into the damp tunnel.

"I finally got around to buying a light after last time."

Edwin smiled sheepishly. "I'm glad you did. I wasn't planning on going spelunking today, so I didn't prepare any light of my own."

They descended into the sewer tunnel, slowly acclimating themselves to the foul stench. Edwin was handed the lantern as the others drew weapons. Parika checked her map, then led the way down the tunnel. They marched in single file along a narrow walkway. The arched tunnel had a channel of waste-filled water running through the center, with another walkway on the far side. Edwin brought up the rear, shining the light as best he could in the direction they were going.

After they had gone a few hundred feet down the main sewer tunnel, Edwin called out, "I found something!" The others turned to look as the priest extracted a shoe from the muck on the floor. "This is one of Lucius's shoes. We must be on the right track."

Parika continued leading the way, her keen eyes revealing details that the others could not see in the dim light. As she came around a small pillar she froze. high up on the wall was an opening leading back into the wall of the tunnel. She could see the glimmer of two pairs of eyes looking out from the hole, and the tips of rubbery black tentacles curling over the edge of the opening. She retreated quickly, leaping over to the other side of the tunnel and fitting an arrow to her bowstring. "Something up ahead," she said to the others. "Hiding in a hole in the wall."

Rachel hung back with Edwin, watching for something to appear up ahead. Whatever it was didn't seem to be coming out, though. Nevroth tried to leap across to join Parika, but he lost his footing on the slick stone and fell into the filth running through the middle of the tunnel. Cursing, he climbed out the far side. 

Parika advanced slowly until she could see the hole again, though she could no longer make out anything inside. She fired an arrow  into the blackness and was rewarded with an angry hiss. A hunched humanoid form leaped out of the hole, waving its tentacles menacingly. One of them whipped across the tunnel, wrapping itself around Parika's throat and squeezing.

Seeing a target at last, Rachel charged with her cutlass raised high. She brought it down in a wicked slash across the thing's torso, spraying black ichor on the wall and floor. Gasping for breath, Parika managed to fire another arrow into the creature's chest. She felt the tentacle around her throat loosen, and the creature slowly toppled into the water.

Nevroth finally reached Parika's side and called for Edwin to heal her. The priest tried to cross the channel but fell in as well, finally scrabbling his way toward the battle. He kneeled next to Parika and chanted briefly, but for some reason her throat felt no better.

Meanwhile, two more tentacles lashed out from the dark cleft, one wrapping itself around Rachel's throat. She was no weakling, however, and she flexed her neck muscles to avoid being throttled. She slashed at the creature, cutting a gash in its tentacle but not severing it. Nevroth tried to join her, but his already slick boots could get no purchase on the stone and he was forced to wade through the water once more.

Edwin had moved further down the tunnel away from the battle, watching from a safe distance. Nevroth managed to get up onto the other walkway, only to find a tentacle around his neck as well. They heard Edwin chanting, and the tunnel was suddenly enveloped in a thick mist that boiled up from the stinking water.

"That's not helping, Edwin," growled Rachel through clenched teeth. She and Nevroth kept slashing at their attacker through the fog, and soon it lay unmoving. They unwrapped its tentacles from their throats and Rachel called out, "Edwin, it's dead. You can come back now." Instead of coming closer, however, the light quickly receded, leaving them in the darkness listening to the sound of running footsteps.

Parika rubbed her throat. "This is not a good sign."


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## peteyfrogboy (Oct 10, 2003)

*Terror In Freeport: Part 5*

"I don't think that was Edwin," said Rachel.

"Maybe it was him, but he was under some sort of mind control like Lucius was," theorized Nevroth.

Parika shrugged, though the gesture was useless in the pitch dark. "Well, whoever he was, he left us without any light. I've got flint and steel, but nothing to light with it."

"I have some flasks of lamp oil, but no lamp anymore," grumbled Nevroth.

"Wait, I have an idea," said Parika. She managed to get one of Nevroth's oil flasks in the dark, then cut off a short piece of rope and threaded it through the mouth of the flask to make a wick. A few minutes later, she had a crude but serviceable lamp. The flickering light made the wet stone tunnel look like the gullet of some gargantuan beast. Nevroth looked up at the cleft in the wall. "I wonder who else those things might have caught down here. I'm already wet and nasty, I may as well go take a look." 

The manhunter borrowed Parika's lamp and clambered up into the narrow opening. Crawling on his belly, he found a small cave littered with piles of old bones. Most of them were the remains of rats, but several larger skeletons looked like they were humanoid. Poking through the remains, he found several pouches of coins which he tossed out to his companions. He also found a sturdy metal flask with a hinged lid. He could feel liquid sloshing around inside. Just as he was about to wiggle his way back out, he caught sight of a cracked leather scroll case tucked inside some unfortunate person's clothes. He pulled the brass bound case free of the tattered cloth and returned to the sewer tunnel. He tucked the case in his pack. "Whatever's in there, I'd rather wait until I'm less filthy before opening it."

"So what do we do now?" asked Rachel.

***

Nevroth perched on the edge of a pew as a Fargothan priest healed Parika's wounds. The freshly washed manhunter opened his pack and took out the leather scroll case. As he turned it over in his hands, he could feel something sliding around inside.

Leaning over his shoulder, Rachel asked, "What do you think's inside?"

He shrugged. "It could be anything." He twisted the cap off the end of the tube and peered inside. A curled sheet of parchment, yellow and cracked with age, lay within. The mysterious rattling object turned out to be a heavy brass key. He tipped the key out into his hand. The key's handle was engraved with a stylized wave, still clear beneath the thick patina. Carefully, he removed the parchment and unrolled it.

_The money is hidden inside the wall behind the bed. We're even now._

"That's interesting," said Rachel. "Too bad we don't know what that key unlocks."

Nevroth returned the note and key to the case. "I don't know what a wave might mean. Maybe someplace on Wave Avenue?"

Rachel shrugged. "It's as good a guess as any."

***

As they entered the temple of St. Uller, the three companions were only mildly surprised to see Lucius alive and well, bustling about among the stacks. They approached him and asked if he had seen Brother Edwin.

Lucius's brow furrowed. "No, not since this morning." He saw the glances exchanged between them and added, "Is something wrong?"

"We were left for dead in the sewers by someone claiming to be Edwin," said Nevroth. "Either is was someone disguised as him, or he's under some sort of mind control"

"Oh no," said Lucius. "If those awful cultists have captured him, there's no telling what they might be doing to him. Where do you think they might have taken him?"

Parika shrugged. "The only lead we have is the route Verlaine's men traced in the sewer. They might have him in Verlaine's basement, for all we know." She folded her arms and frowned. "If that wasn't really Edwin, then that writ he used to get us released is probably a fake, too. If they check it out, we may be back where we were before -- on the first boat out of town."

Lucius nodded. "I see. Well, if anyone comes around asking, I'll try to delay them as long as I can. I don't know how long I can keep them waiting, though, so you need to find out what's going on as quickly as you can. I may be able to call in a few favors and get you some healing elixirs as well. Please hurry; I know what horrible tortures those people are capable of."

***

A few restless hours of sleep later, they returned to the sewers with two new lanterns. Nevroth shone the beam of light down at the walkway where they had fought the night before. "Whoever he was, he left a pretty good trail."

As they followed the trail through the sewer tunnel, they would occasionally find objects half-concealed in the muck. "I suppose these were meant to keep us on the path," commented Parika, "like that shoe 'Edwin' found. I wonder where he was planning to take us."

The trail continued on down the tunnel, following the main sewer line toward the Merchant District. As they passed a short side passage, Parika noticed something out of the corner of her eye. She called a halt and went down the passage, finding a section of wall at the end that easily swung open. She shone the beam of her lantern inside, revealing a small square room filled with large chunks of stone. A quick inspection revealed that the room had a hinged ceiling and wall.

"What do you guys make of this?" 

Nevroth shrugged. "I have no idea." He inspected the floor of the passage for a moment. "Whatever it is, our friend didn't go that way. He kept going down the main tunnel."

They followed the trail further, eventually coming to a section where iron bars had been cemented in place across the entire passage, presumably to block access to the underside of the Merchant District. The trail continued past them, so Parika inspected the bars and found that some of them had been cut through. They removed them and passed through, replacing them before continuing on.

After a few more minutes, Nevroth finally came to a stop. He crouched down and looked closely at the floor, but it was cleaner here than in the downstream parts of the sewer and the trail was no longer visible. "Well, this is as far as I can track him."

Parika looked around the tunnel, then turned to face the stone wall. "Let's see what we can see here."

***

The half-elf smiled as she ran her finger along a small seam in the wall. Her meticulous nature had finally paid off. "I think I've found something," she called to the others. By the time they joined her, she had already swung the wall aside, revealing a steeply sloping passage descending into darkness.

Rachel drew her cutlass and started down the passage. The seemingly endless trudge through the sewer had left her with a thirst for action. The narrow ramp was difficult for her to navigate, but she managed to reach the bottom without incident. She looked back to see the others practically strolling down behind her.

Taking the lantern from Parika, Rachel led the way through a winding stone passage. Eventually they found a small storage room to their left. A quick inspection of the crates and boxes found an array of familiar cult paraphernalia.

"Looks like we're in the right place," whispered Parika.

They continued on, finding another small room on the opposite side of the passage. Inside were a number of shelves filled with books marked in the indecipherable serpent tongue. Parika searched a desk at the back of the room, finding a book at the bottom of a stack of papers in a drawer. It was titled _The True And Secrette Historie of the Brotherhoode of Free-Port_, and appeared to be written in Tavian. She warily opened it, recalling her last experience with cult literature. Fortunately, this book seemed to have no ill effect.

Relieved, the thief scanned the book's table of contents. The chapter titles outlined an intriguing timeline. Apparently, the region around Freeport was once a vast land ruled by serpent men, who eventually brought a cataclysm upon themselves that sank their empire into the ocean.

She showed her find to Rachel and Nevroth. "The serpent men started this Brotherhood of the Unspeakable One, and destroyed their entire civilization."

Nevroth flipped through the book to the last chapter, "The Brotherhoode Today". He frowned as he read the last few paragraphs. "It says here that the Brotherhood survived through the ages, and is now disguised within the temple of St. Uller."

"I never trusted those guys," said Parika. She took the book back and stowed it in her pack. Unslinging her bow once more, she said, "Let's finish this."

The passage continued on, curving back on itself like a great serpent. Nevroth took the lead at the edge of the lantern light. As the passage curved around, they began to see flickering light up ahead. The manhunter peeked around the corner, seeing a disturbingly familiar scene. The Brotherhood's temple had been rebuilt, the hulking statue glowering over its basalt altar in the light of black candles. This time the altar was not empty, however; bound on its scarred surface was Brother Edwin, flanked by two men in the black robes of cultists. Standing guard around them were also three serpent men. Nevroth's stomach tightened as he saw all eyes turn toward him.

DM Notes:
* I decided not to lead them all the way to the deathtrap, mostly because I just don't like deathtraps.


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## DiFier (Oct 10, 2003)

peteyfrogboy said:
			
		

> DM Notes:
> * I decided not to lead them all the way to the deathtrap, mostly because I just don't like deathtraps.




and that particular death trap really sucks.


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## peteyfrogboy (Oct 14, 2003)

*Terror In Freeport: Part 6*

Hearing the angry hiss of serpent men ahead, Rachel rushed to the attack. She charged in with her cutlass held high, dodging the serpents' hurled javelins. Her blade flashed downward, opening the belly of one of the serpents and leaving it writhing on the floor. Nevroth and Parika fired arrows from the doorway, scoring hits on a serpent and one of the cultists.

The cultist nearest Rachel dropped his smoking censer and began chanting, pointing his finger at the warrior. Rachel gritted her teeth as the all-too-familiar chill began to wrap itself around her heart. This time, however, the fear did not send her running. Instead she advanced, slashing the black robed man across the shoulder. The other cultist drew a short sword from within his robe and held his hand over the blade. The sword began glowing with a vile luminescence.

One of the serpent men threw a javelin toward Rachel. It few true and straight, on target for her heart. She raised her shield and the glyph on its face flashed red, sending the missile flying harmlessly away. Even as she grinned triumphantly, she felt an arrow tear across her shoulder. She turned to see Nevroth sheepishly moving his aim toward the other side of the room.

The serpent men gave up their fruitless barrage and charged the archers at the door. Nevroth and Parika were no strangers to close quarters archery, however, and their attackers were soon lying still on the floor. Meanwhile, Rachel has delivered a final blow to her first opponent and was facing off against the cultist with the black-glowing sword. They traded blows briefly, but the cultist was no match for Rachel's flashing blade and fell without once drawing blood.

"I'm so glad to see you," said Edwin. "I thought for sure they were going to kill me." After a moment he craned his neck up to see his rescuers cautiously approaching the altar. "Is something wrong?"

"Well, we're just not sure you're... you," said Parika. "Someone looking like you tried to leave us to die in the sewers last night."

"Oh, I assure you I'm myself," Edwin said. "One of the cultists used a potion to change himself into a likeness of me. It must have been him who tricked you. I've been chained to this altar since yesterday."

Nevroth glanced at Edwin's robes. "He certainly doesn't look like he's been splashing around in the sewer. I think we can trust him."

Edwin was quite relieved to be finally released, and he proceeded to heal their wounds, further convincing them that he was genuine. Parika searched the room, finding nothing except a rolled up note hidden in a niche under the altar. The note was written in the indecipherable serpent script, except three words: "Parika", "Nevroth", and "Rachel". She stowed the curious paper for later study.

Rachel finished cleaning her cutlass and slid it back in its sheath. "So now what?"

Edwin's brow furrowed. "When they first captured me, one of them said, 'After tonight, your kind will be out of the way for good.' I'm not sure what he meant, but it can't be good. We have to stop them, and quickly."

Parika glanced around the room. "Well, this place is a dead end." She fell silent as she say the black candles flickering. Underground, there shouldn't have been any wind to disturb the flames. "Hm, maybe not." She inspected the rear wall of the temple, finally discovering another secret door behind the looming statue. She opened it to reveal another steep ramp going up.

***

Rachel poked her head into the room at the top of the ramp. She played the beam of her lantern across the walls, revealing a well-stocked wine cellar. In addition to the casks and bottles, there were also several open crates. There were no people in sight, so she led the way quietly into the cellar. She illuminated one of the crates with the lantern light. "Bierce Vintners? We must be in Verlaine's basement!"

The others filed in, looking around the room. Parika put a hand on her hip. "I knew he was involved in this somehow. So now what do we do?"

Nevroth scratched his chin. "I don't know. Do we have enough evidence to accuse a powerful member of the city government?"

Heading for the stairs, Rachel slashed her cutlass through the air. "I don't much care. This is the only lead we've got on this whole mess, and I'm not going to leave without checking it out."

Unable to find fault in that logic, the others followed up the stairs as quietly as they could. The inside of Verlaine's manor was as exquisitely decorated as the exterior. Creeping slowly into the dark-paneled main hall, they saw no guards or servants in evidence.

"So far, so good," whispered Parika. She noticed that there was a door close at hand that was open. She peeked inside to see a well appointed but empty kitchen. At the other end of the long hall she could see the heavy front door they had seen from the street. It was slightly ajar now, which seemed odd to her. Another door at the end of the hall was still closed. The burglar led the way down the hall, glancing up the stairs to the next level as she neared them. Still no one was in sight. 

Parika eased the closed door open, revealing an opulent sitting room. A large portrait of one of Verlaine's forebears glowered from above the hearth, but no living eyes were to be seen. "Why can't I have this kind of luck all the time?" she muttered to herself. A pair of double doors on the right hand wall swung aside to reveal a dining room set with a lavish supper.

Rachel sniffed as she entered the room, then frowned. She stepped toward the unoccupied table and held her hand over a roasted pig. "This food is cold. Something is very wrong in this house."

With nowhere else left to go, they mounted the stairs to the top floor of the house. Parika led the way, cautiously peering into the upper hall but seeing no one. The first door she opened led to a bathroom, but the next revealed an abattoir. Verlaine lay sprawled on a blood-soaked bed, with his guards strewn about the room like broken toy soldiers.

The point of Rachel's sword dropped. "I guess Verlaine's not behind all this. At least not anymore."

Ever practical, Parika stepped around the bodies to get to the bed. "If that key was to this house, then we need to check behind the bed." Before she could even start to contemplate how to move the massive bed, a mahogany wardrobe nearby burst open. A wiry man in black leather leaped out, drawing a wicked-looking rapier.

Parika jumped up onto the bed, fumbling for her bow. Nevroth charged across the room, but tripped on one of the many corpses and landed hard, smashing his head into the floor. Rachel hung back near the door, standing protectively in front of Edwin.

The dark man walked toward the door, casually slashing the stunned manhunter's throat as he passed. By the time he reached the door, Edwin had scurried back out into the hall. Parika finally found her balance and sent an arrow across the room into the man's shoulder. He glared at her and went to leap onto the bed, but he had underestimated Rachel's skill with a sword. She cut him across the leg even as he tried to twist out of her reach, sending him tumbling to the floor. He thrust at her with his rapier, but she batted it aside and delivered a hard downward slash across his collarbone.

Meanwhile, Nevroth had drunk one of his healing elixirs, with one hand clamped over his bleeding throat. He recovered enough to stand, and all converged on the assassin lying on the floor. Before they could question or kill him, however, they heard Edwin cry out from the hall. The priest's shout was followed by an explosion and another man's scream. Rachel poked her head out the door and looked down the hall, only to see a man with his hand held above his head, his body engulfed in flames. Parika and Nevroth were looking toward the door as well, but their attention returned to the assassin as he slammed a hand onto his belt pouch and exploded in flames as well.

"This is insane," said Parika as she backed away from the flaming corpse. She glanced toward the bed, then slung her bow over one shoulder. "Come on, let's check behind this bed before the whole place goes up."

Rachel and Nevroth put away their weapons and helped Parika move the bed away from the wall. As they worked at it, secondary explosions from the fire sprayed droplets of flame around the room. They finally got the bed moved far enough for Parika to see the seamless plaster behind it. "Blast! Nothing here," she said as she patted out a smoldering patch on her sleeve. most of the bed was burning now, and there was barely a path to the door. "Let's get out of this place."

DM Notes:
* Alchemist's fire + botched attack + bad roll on the critical fumble table = bursting into flame out in the hallway.
* At first I thought Slaan was going to be a tougher fight, especially after doing a casual 4d6 sneak attack on Nevroth, so I delayed sending McNeil into the fight. As it turned out, he didn't accomplish much anyway. Alas, poor assassins, we hardly knew ye!


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## peteyfrogboy (Oct 14, 2003)

*Terror In Freeport: Part 7 (The Finale)*

They regrouped back down in the temple, rather than running out of the burning building into the street. "So now what?" wondered Parika. "We don't know who's backing the cult, or what they have planned for tonight."

Edwin's brow furrowed in thought. "Wait, didn't you find some documents in here after you released me?"

Parika shrugged. "I found a note, but it was all in that squiggly serpent language."

"Give it here," said the priest. "Since our last encounter with them I've been studying some old languages that are similar. I may be able to make something of it."

Some time later, Edwin set the note down and frowned. "This is very disturbing."

The others returned from pacing around the room. "What did you find?" asked Rachel.

The priest held up the note. "This is a draft of a speech lamenting the death of Verlaine. It also implicates my temple as a front for the Brotherhood and all of you as their agents. It begins, 'This evening, Councilor Verlaine and the clergy of the temple of St. Uller have been slain.' I daresay we have a good idea now what they are planning to do next."

He folded the note and placed it inside his robe. "The speech was to be given tonight by Milton Drac."

"Milton Drac, the Sea Lord?" asked Nevroth incredulously.

"The very same."

***

The three weary companions stood with Edwin in Monsignor Thuron's office as he looked over Drac's speech. The elder priest folded his hands and sighed. "I have feared something like this since I first heard of the Brotherhood's activities here in the city. Their vengeance knows no limit, and no human agency can destroy them completely." He rose from behind his desk. "We must secure the temple. They will be upon us soon, and we will make our stand here. I would ask that you stay and help us, as you have up to this point. I regret that you have become involved in the Brotherhood's schemes, but without your intervention they certainly would have grown even more powerful by now."

Parika shrugged. "If we don't help you stop them here, they'll come after us next anyway. We're in."

Thuron gave instructions to several of his assistants, who went to make preparations elsewhere in the temple. He then led the way to the atrium, where the two main entrances to the temple were located. "The other doors can be easily secured. This will be the hardest place to hold against any attack." Rachel, Nevroth, and Parika looked around the large vaulted room. The circular atrium faced southeast, with a single door leading back into the rest of the temple. Two large sets of double doors led out to the street, on the south and east faces of the room. A pair of staircases curved along the walls, leading up to one of two balconies filled with bookcases. At the center of the room was the statue of St. Uller receiving his epiphany, with an altar set into the southeastern wall.

Even as they were making their inspection of the room, both sets of doors opened. Instead of bloodthirsty cultists, however, the people coming in were priests, all of them smeared with blood and dripping from the rain. The woman leading the group at the south door drew back the hood of her cloak. "Thank the Lord! I didn't think we'd make it."

"What happened?" asked Edwin.

"We were attacked in the streets by men in black robes. I found as many others as I could and tried to get them back safely."

Nevroth noticed a large gold ring glinting on the woman's finger. "You priests sure pay well," he muttered.

Thuron raised an eyebrow. "Pay? Our Order takes a vow of poverty." 

This comment was enough to make the naturally suspicious Parika nock an arrow. "Stay where you are," she warned. "Identify yourselves." Nevroth moved toward the south door and Rachel went to the east, each with swords drawn and prepared to take control of the situation if need be. The bloodied priests crowded around the warriors, begging them for aid. Parika fired a warning shot, but they would not desist. Nevroth and Rachel stayed their hands, equally suspicious but unwilling to spill innocent blood by mistake.

The woman wore a look of confusion as she moved toward the center of the room. "Why do you not trust us? Are we not your friends?" Her actions belied her words, however, as she stabbed a finger in Rachel's direction and began chanting. Rachel felt the grip of fear on her once more, but again she shrugged it off. The milling priests acted as one, drawing daggers from beneath their robes and attacking.

The scene became a confused brawl. Thuron and Edwin were surprised by the outburst of violence, and the senior priest took a wicked dagger blow to the gut before they withdrew to relative safety underneath the stairs.

Parika backed up the stairs to the balcony, firing down into the melee as she went. A few of the revealed cultists charged up the stairs after them, but she slew them as quickly as they came.

Nevroth held his ground at the south door, striking cultists down left and right with Parika's support from above. Eventually he faced their leader alone, but by that time she had invoked a mystical shield that made her nearly impervious to his blows.

At the east door Rachel finally had a chance to display her true skill at arms. Her whirling cutlass cut her opponents down like wheat before a scythe, and soon she stood unscathed amid her fallen enemies.

Knowing a lost battle when she saw one, the cultists' leader withdrew to the temple steps. She took off into the heavy rain, managing to evade Nevroth's pursuit. Nevroth returned to the temple, victorious nonetheless.

As the bodies of the slain cultists were being removed from the atrium, Thuron gathered the three companions together once more. "You have my thanks, and the gratitude of our Order. Had you not spotted their deceit, the Brotherhood might have wrought untold harm within these walls. I cannot offer you any monetary reward for your service to us, but I do feel that you deserve to know the truth." He led the way back into the temple and down into the catacombs beneath.

DM Notes:
* I find modules to be the hardest adventures to write. This one in particular is the most convoluted and confusing of the Freeport trilogy. The party kept missing and/or misinterpreting clues, so I kept having to shove them in the right direction. I tried to streamline things for the story hour without taking too many liberties with what actually happened.
* Opportunities to use Whirlwind Attack are few and far between, but they can be quite spectacular.


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## Destan (Oct 15, 2003)

Avast petey!

I haven't finished all of your updates just yet, but wanted to let you know I really enjoy your story hour.  Your writing seems to flow, and the images you evoke are top-notch.  

Plus, if pogre likes it, it's gotta be good!

Looking forward to more.

D


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## peteyfrogboy (Oct 15, 2003)

Destan said:
			
		

> Avast petey!
> 
> I haven't finished all of your updates just yet, but wanted to let you know I really enjoy your story hour.  Your writing seems to flow, and the images you evoke are top-notch.
> 
> ...




As yours is one of the story hours I most look forward to reading, I take that as high praise. 

Thanks for reading, and I hope things stay interesting enough to keep you coming back.


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## peteyfrogboy (Oct 15, 2003)

*Stalking In The Night*

The Black Gull was its normal rowdy self that night. Nevroth, Rachel, and Parika sat around a table laden with food and drink. For the first time in quite a while they were relaxed and happy.

"So let me get this straight," said Rachel. "While Lucius was off being possessed, he ran into Thuron, who wasn't Thuron then. He was Kaballah."

"K'Stallo," corrected Nevroth.

"Right, that guy." Rachel took a long sip of wine before continuing. "Except he wasn't a guy, he was one of those snake people, but not the bad Unspeakable cultist ones."

"He's a priest of Yig, whoever that is," said Parika.

"Okay, so he came back with Lucius to the temple so he could poke around in the library, and he happened to run across the real Thuron keeled over at his desk. And then he turns himself into Thuron and takes over the temple?"

Nevroth nodded. "That's the story."

"That's nuts." Rachel patted her belt pouch and smiled. "But Edwin paid us like he said he would, so I am happy. And I may be a little drunk."

***

Nevroth leaned back in his chair as Parika and Rachel descended further and further into their cups. He was simply glad to be alive and well. As he sipped his ale, something caught his eye. A pair of sailors were walking by the window, wearing familiar red bandannas. He excused himself from the party and went out to the street. He watched as the pirates staggered down the street and around a corner. Despite the battles he had already fought that day, he still found himself with a taste for blood.

He tailed the two pirates westward, eventually coming to a tavern on the north edge of the Docks called the Rusty Hook. Unsurprisingly, the clientele seemed to be largely pirates and other sailors. His two marks were at the bar continuing their drinking. He found a seat at the other end of the bar, getting himself an ale which he sipped slowly as he watched them.

After a while, the two pirates headed for the back door, presumably to relieve themselves. Nevroth stayed where he was. He waited for them to return, but by the time he finished his drink they were still gone. He stood up, paid, and went out through the back. As he reached the narrow hallway leading out into the courtyard, he noticed out of the corner of his eye that a few large men had gotten up as well and were walking behind him. _Coincidence?_, he thought. _Perhaps I'm not the only one hunting tonight._

In the courtyard, a low brazier was providing light for a circle of men rolling dice on the cobbles. The rain had let up as the sun went down, reduced to nothing more than a mist. The two red bandannas were crouched among the gamblers. Nevroth considered breaking off his pursuit, but he found his way back blocked by the men who had followed him. He began to feel very uncomfortable about the entire situation.

Nevroth's discomfort only grew as the circle of men all turned his way and stood. One man who he had thought was standing before rose even higher. He reached for his weapons, but before they could even clear their scabbards the mob was upon him. The giant among them grabbed him and put a meaty arm around his neck. The others crowded around, holding him in place. He struggled, but it was clearly futile.

A familiar face appeared before Nevroth then, flipping a familiar knife end over end. The man wore a scowl that was made no less menacing by the dim firelight. 

"Did you really think you could pick us all off one by one?" The man shook his head. "If I had my way, you'd be dead already, but it seems your mother has a soft spot for you." He stepped closer and laid his knife on the tip of Nevroth's nose. "Honestly, I don't give a rat's hindquarters about your father, and neither did those two men you butchered. Their wives are widows now, their children orphans." The knife disappeared, and the man stepped back again. 

"Like I said, though, I'm not going to kill you." He stepped over to the brazier and stirred the coals, causing sparks to float up through the mist. "But your mother wanted us to teach you a lesson." He stopped moving the coals and pulled out a heavy hatchet, its blade glowing red hot. "Hold him down, boys."


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## peteyfrogboy (Oct 16, 2003)

*Intervention*

Parika sat down across from Rachel, stabbing a chunk of cheese with her knife. "Nothing makes me hungrier than not having people out to kill me."

"I know what you mean," said Rachel, smiling. "Have you seen Nevroth today? I knocked on his door but he didn't answer."

"I just woke up. Last I saw of him was at the Gull last night." She frowned as she smeared butter across a thick slice of bread. "I hope he didn't get himself in any trouble."

As if in answer to her thoughts, the door opened then. She looked up to see Nevroth stumbling in, pale and haggard, wearing the same clothes as the night before. He seemed off balance somehow; it took a moment for Parika to realize that he was missing his left hand.

"Bright Lord, what happened to you?"

***

Nevroth woke to a stabbing pain in his left hand. He clutched at it with the other, but found only a raw stump where it should have been. He groaned and curled into a miserable ball beneath a thin blanket.

"Awake, eh?" The voice was unfamiliar.

Opening his eyes, Nevroth saw that he was in a small, run-down room, presumably at an inn. A broad shouldered man in worn leathers sat on a stool with his back to him, methodically stroking a dagger across a sharpening stone. The man turned, revealing a weathered face and bushy blond beard. Bright green eyes appraised him briefly, then returned to the dagger. "How're ya feeling?"

"Awful," admitted Nevroth. He sat up on the creaky bed, holding his left arm close to his chest. He couldn't bring himself to look at it quite yet. "Where am I?"

"The Flying Fish, down by the shipyard. It beats spending the night in the gutter, I'd wager, which is where I found you." The man examined the edge of his blade and seemed satisfied, returning it to a sheath at his belt. He turned around fully on the stool, revealing a tarnished silver disc pinned to his jerkin, pierced with a familiar "M". "Harrod Trask," he said by way of introduction.

Nevroth felt some of the tension leave him as he realized he was in no immediate danger. "I'm --"

"Nevroth," Harrod said with a nod. "I've heard about you. Even before last night. You haven't exactly been keeping a low profile." The senior manhunter stood and went to a small side table. He grabbed a pair of hard rolls, tossing one to Nevroth and biting into the other. He leaned against the table and chewed thoughtfully. "It didn't take long for the story to get to me last night. It's lucky for you I wasn't on a job, or I might not have gotten to you in time. The scavengers were already flocking around when I arrived."

"Um, thank you," replied Nevroth. He tried not to imagine how he might have ended up otherwise.

"Hmm." Harrod popped the last bit of the roll into his mouth and folded his arms across his chest. "If I were any other Manhunter, you'd probably lose your badge; the Guild takes a dim view of vendettas. I know what it's like, though, so I'm willing to give you a pass this once. You've found your own punishment, I'd wager."

Harrod looked out the window at the lightening sky. "I've been there. I know what it's like to crave vengeance. My baby sister was killed by goblins when I was sixteen. I spent almost a year doing nothing but hunting them, slaying them, taking out my rage." He turned his emerald gaze back to Nevroth. "The more of them I killed, though, the emptier I felt. Even if I could find the very one that clawed out her throat and even the score, it wouldn't have filled the hole in my heart. That's when I became a Manhunter. If I couldn't find justice for myself, I figured I could find it for others. It's a good feeling, far better than simply spilling more blood."

Nevroth's face was impassive. "Perhaps."

Harrod shrugged. "It's just one man's opinion, I suppose. If you ever need a bit of advice or an ear to talk to, I'll be around."

"I'll keep that in mind."

***

Wincing as he held up the stump that used to be his left hand, Nevroth said, "The pirates made a mistake."

 Overcoming her shock, Parika's voice was full of sarcasm.  "What, they punished the *wrong* man who had sworn vengance on their crew?"

 "No."  His voice was cool and steady despite his pain.  "They left me alive."

Parika shook her head. "Well, uh, do we have anything planned for today? I'm all for relaxation, but something tells me there's a pay day out there waiting for us."

"I need a bath," said Nevroth. He held up his left arm. "And then I think I'll do some shopping."

Rachel looked over at the manhunter. "Do you still have that key we found in the sewer? I think I'll try to find out what it unlocks."

Parika held up her finger. "Aha! I knew there was something I was forgetting. Excellent."

"I'll go get it from my room. You ladies have fun; I'll catch up with you later."


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## Smeege The Mighty (Oct 17, 2003)

*Some people never learn*



			
				peteyfrogboy said:
			
		

> As if in answer to her thoughts, the door opened then. She looked up to see Nevroth stumbling in, pale and haggard, wearing the same clothes as the night before. He seemed off balance somehow; it took a moment for Parika to realize that he was missing his left hand.
> 
> "Bright Lord, what happened to you?"




Wincing as he held up the stump that used to be his left hand, Nevroth said, "The pirates made a mistake."

Overcoming her shock, Parika's voice was full of sarcasm.  "What, they punished the *wrong* man who had sworn vengance on their crew?"

"No."  His voice was cool and steady despite his pain.  "They left me alive."

*Everything else is as the DM put it.  He just left out the small fact that Nevroth's encounter with the pirate crew gave him more reason to hate them instead of disuading him from his course.


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## peteyfrogboy (Oct 17, 2003)

*Unearthing The Past*

Snick crouched down behind the counter and opened a large trunk. "I guess whatever your job was worked out for you; I hear that Verlaine's dead."

Parika drummed her fingers on the counter. "Oh, is he? How tragic."

The shopkeeper rose again, a smirk on his scruffy face. "Whatever you say." He placed a leather bundle on the counter and unrolled it, revealing a wide assortment of picks, rakes, probes, and other tools. "Here you go."

"Perfect."

***

Reed looked up from his desk with his usual sour expression. As he saw Rachel come through the door his grimace transformed into a grin that was, if anything, less attractive. "What can I do for you today?"

"I need some information on this symbol." She produced a small piece of parchment with a rubbing of a small raised image on it. 

Reed held the picture up to his nose and squinted. "What is that, a bird?"

"I think it's a wave, but I'm not entirely sure," replied Rachel. "Do you think you might be able to find anything out about it?"

The archivist scratched his stubbly chin. "Not really my sort of thing, I'm afraid." He handed the parchment back to Rachel. "What did you find that symbol on?"

"It was on a key."

Reed nodded. "Ah. Well, your best bet would be to check with the Locksmiths' Guild, then. They produce all of the high quality locks in the city and keep excellent records."

***

Rachel returned to the inn to find Parika and Nevroth sitting at a table in the common room. Parika waved her over. "Nevroth was just showing me his new toys."

The polished steel cap on the end of Nevroth's forearm was crowned with a round socket. On the table were a hook and a needle-sharp blade, each with a pair of studs at its base. He picked the hook up and inserted it into the socket, turning it until the studs clicked into a set of corresponding holes.

"Nice," said Rachel. "Where'd you get them?"

"There's a place up in Drac's End called the Second Hand Store." He nodded as the others groaned. "I know, I know, it's a bad joke, but they're supposedly the best place in town." He stowed the sword blade in a sheath on his belt. "So what did you find out?"

Rachel laid out a map of the city on the table. She pointed to a marked building in the Old City. "Reed said to check with the Locksmiths' Guild, which is here." She pointed to another marked spot. "This is the inn." She grinned. "Reed talked me into buying a map."

***

The Locksmiths' Guild, unsurprisingly, was a sturdily built stone building with ornate bars on the windows and a heavy reinforced door. No guards were present outside, so they simply went up to the door and knocked. After a moment, the sound of a number of slides and latches could be heard from within. Finally, the sounds stopped, and a small peephole opened in the door. A pair of eyes peered out. "Yes? What can we do for you?"

Rachel held up the key. "We need to find out some information on this."

The eyes looked down at the key. "I see. Come in." The peephole swung shut again. One final lock could be heard before the door opened. A well dressed, slender man gestured for them to come inside. The room beyond had a number of different locking mechanisms displayed on tables. Parika fought the urge to take them apart and inspect them.

The man sent an apprentice off through a side door. The boy returned a few moments later carrying a thick book, which he deposited on one of the display tables. "May I have a look at your mystery key?" asked the man. Rachel handed it over.

The locksmith inspected the key closely. "Hmm. This is an old design. Might I ask how you acquired it?"

"I inherited it," Rachel lied.

"Ah, I see. Interesting." He went to the book and opened it. "Let's see now..." He began flipping through the book, going further and further back as he compared the design on the key's handle to pictures in the book. Finally he stopped and nodded. "This key was commissioned for the Wavecrest Inn back in... 1123." He copied the address from the book, then took the key over to a nearby workbench. He took a rag and rubbed at the back of the key, removing the thick patina that had formed there over the years. "Aha, as I thought." He handed the key and address to Rachel. The back of the key, now clean and shiny, was engraved with the number "22".

***

"All this running around town is making me hungry," said Parika as they returned to the Goodhearth Inn. "Let's get some lunch and then check out that address." The others agreed and went to see what was on the day's menu.

Parika looked around the common room; it was the usual low key crowd that she expected to see. Delthic was sitting in the middle of the room like he often did, his songbooks laid out on the table. This time, though, he was chatting with a little girl dangling her feet from a chair opposite him. _No, not a girl,_ thought Parika as she noticed the hair on her bare feet, _a halfling._

Delthic waved as he saw Parika looking his way. The halfling leaned around the back of the chair to look at her. "We've got a new neighbor," said Delthic. "Parika, I'd like you to meet--"

"Seraphim Teahill? What in blazes are you doing here?"

"Parika?" The halfling hopped off the chair and ran over to wrap her arms around Parika's legs. "What a happy happenstance!"

The bard smiled. "Never mind, you seem to be acquainted already."

Parika came and sat down, while Seraphim climbed back into her chair. "Sera and I were friends back in Averdane during my misspent youth. We lost touch years ago." She shook her head and smiled at her old friend. "But really, what's a good girl like you doing in a place like this?"

The halfling giggled. "We were never good girls in those days." She shrugged. "It turned out that I had some other talents." She snapped her fingers and the tip of her finger began to glow with magelight. Another snap, and it was gone. "I started getting odd jobs here and there, making money and learning new tricks as I went along. It was a lot less work than our old fun and games.

"Anyway, there I was doing magical research for hire in Cahiedra when I was approached by an agent from Rhodes of Freeport to do arcane appraisals for them."

"Rhodes is an insurance company," explained Delthic.

"Right," said Seraphim. "So they paid my way out here and pay me to be on call to identify magical artifacts people want to insure. Pretty easy work compared to some other things I've done." She leaned her arms on the table and smiled. "So that's my story; what have you been up to?"

Parika shrugged. "Oh, you know, treasure hunting, fighting monsters, saving the city from time to time."

"Sounds like fun. Can I come?"

DM Notes:
* Seraphim is being played by Parika's player. When they met, she said, "They catch up, blah blah blah. I'm _not_ having a conversation with myself."


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## peteyfrogboy (Oct 20, 2003)

*The Wavecrest Inn*

"Somehow we always end up back here," said Parika as they walked through the narrow streets of Scurvytown. "Are you sure we're going the right way?"

Rachel checked her map. "Reed said that address was in this neighborhood." She looked around at the complete lack of signage on the twisting roads. "I guess we'll just have to trust him."

As they traveled north, the rickety shacks and leaning tenements slowly gave way to buildings that once were beautiful. Chipped marble columns loomed over piles of trash, while the broken feet of fallen gargoyles clung desperately to the edges of roofs.

"This is even more depressing," said Nevroth.

"That it is," agreed Rachel. "Reed said that this neighborhood was once the equal of the Merchants' District. Money comes and goes, though, and it left this place in a hurry. Once squatters started moving in to the abandoned mansions the few that were still inhabited cleared out."

They finally stopped at a set of worn marble steps leading to half a pair of double doors. The sign was long gone, but the number carved above the entry marked the place as the Wavecrest Inn.

***

The four companions went up the steps cautiously. They kept their hands near their weapons, except for Seraphim, who simply strolled along with her hands swinging at her sides. Despite the afternoon sun, the inside of the inn was dark and unwelcoming. The common room was stripped down to bare walls, and the air was heavy with the odor of unwashed bodies and a faint whiff of snakeweed smoke. A number of people roamed listlessly about the room or lay amid piles of flea-ridden blankets on the floor. 

Most of the inn's residents paid the newcomers no mind, giving them only a passing glance. A tired-looking woman approached Nevroth, shrugging her bodice strap off one shoulder. "Hey sailor," she said, smiling with a mouth full of rotting teeth, "looking for a good time?"

Nevroth scowled and led the way toward the stairs at the far end of the room. The woman put her hands on her hips and spat in his direction. "Fine, get yourself killed. See if I care!"

The stairs led up to a hallway lined with doors. A few of the doors were open, though no one seemed to be inside. Rachel glanced back down the stairs. "What do you think she meant by that?"

Parika looked up and down the hall. "Nobody's been living up here. Maybe it's haunted?"

Nevroth slid his sword blade in place with a click. "Maybe so." He checked the numbers on the doors, then pointed down the hallway. "22 is that way."

They quickly reached the door they were looking for. It was closed, and Parika confirmed that it was locked. She took out the key, muttering, "This feels so unnatural." The key slid into the lock and turned smoothly. She removed the key and pushed the door open. The room beyond looked as though it had been completely undisturbed for the past century. Aside from a film of dust, nothing was out of place. The bed was made, the shelves were empty, a fresh candle sat on the bedside table.

Parika looked inside. "Looks safe enough." She stepped through the doorway and disappeared.

Nevroth's eyes widened, then he sighed and drew his sword. "Wonderful." He plunged ahead through the door, disappearing just as Parika had.

Seraphim looked at Rachel and shrugged. "She's my friend." She stepped through as well, leaving Rachel alone in the hall.

"That's crazy."

***

As Parika entered the room, she felt no different, but the walls of the room suddenly began to glow with a dim yellow luminescence. In fact, everything in the room was glowing, including the man sitting on the bed pulling on his boots. He looked up casually at Parika, as though strange people appearing out of nowhere were perfectly normal.

"Are you here to turn down the bed?"

Before she could answer, Nevroth appeared behind her, blades bared. Seeing that even this evinced no reaction from the room's resident, she shrugged. "Sure, we're here to turn down the bed."

"Lovely," said the man, and walked out past them into the empty hall, which was also glowing. He closed the door behind him.

Seraphim materialized before the door. "What's going on?"

"I have no idea," said Parika. She looked around the room. "First things first." She pulled the bed away from the wall and looked behind it. She tapped a board on the wall and felt it rattle. It pulled free easily, revealing a large sack inside the wall. Smiling, the thief pulled the sack out of its hiding place. Peering within, she saw that it was full of coins. It seemed lighter than it should be, but she stowed it in her pack regardless.

Nevroth looked around the room. "Well, now that the _important_ things are taken care of, how do we get out of here?"

Seraphim opened the door and stepped out into the hall, then back inside. "That didn't work." They tried opening, closing, locking, and unlocking the door, but to no avail. As they were trying to decide what to do next, Rachel appeared inside the room.

"I waited for you to come back," she said. "I checked with your girlfriend downstairs, and she said the place is haunted." She looked around the room. "Doesn't look so haunted to me."

Seraphim shook her head. "I think it's a transdimensional portal." She gestured up and down the hall, which was curved rather than straight. "The spatial deformities indicate a metaphysical translation rather than a direct temporal displacement." The others shared bewildered glances. The halfling sighed. "We're not in our world, and I don't think we went back in time."

"Okay," said Nevroth, "so how do we get out?"

Parika looked up and down the strangely curving hall. The walls seemed somewhat skewed as well, not quite meeting the floor and ceiling at right angles. The effect was vaguely disorienting. "We came in through a door; maybe there's a door somewhere else that leads out."

They started moving cautiously down the hallway. Occasionally people would walk past them, glowing softly like everything else. The inn's anachronistic patrons seemed unperturbed by armed intruders in their midst, simply stepping around them.

Parika stopped suddenly. "Did you see that?"

"See what?" Nevroth had been busy avoiding a glowing matron and her servant.

"It's gone now, but I think I saw someone peeking out from that room up ahead."

Rachel shrugged. "We've seen a lot of people here. What makes that one any different."

The half-elf nocked and arrow. "He wasn't glowing."

They moved along the curving hall slowly. Up ahead the hallway forked, with the right hand branch curving in the opposite direction from the hall they were in. Parika silently pointed to an open door just before the fork. Nevroth leaned around the doorway. The room was as neat as the first one they had seen, with a perfectly made bed and nothing out of place. In the center of the room, however, crouched a man in ragged clothes, his hands held out before him like claws. Unlike the softly glowing people walking through the halls, he was dark, as though he were perpetually in a deep shadow. He said nothing, but hissed as he saw Nevroth.

At the sound of hissing, Parika leaped across the doorway and took cover. She wasn't sure what to make of the strange creature, so she held her fire. "We should try to take it alive. It might know how to get out of here."

"No... way... out!" it hissed.

Parika shrugged. "Then again, maybe not."

Rachel and Nevroth entered the room and tried to subdue the creature, but soon realized that it was ignoring their blows. It clawed at Rachel, but was unable to make contact. Seraphim had taken up a position directly across from the door. She held her hands out before her and uttered a few arcane syllables. Two fiery birds leaped forth from her hands, streaking toward the shadowy creature. They exploded in brilliant flashes, spraying black mist from the ragged man's body.

Seeing that they were not dealing with a normal man, the others laid into him with lethal force. Their blows struck true, but weapons had little effect on the creature. Wisps of black mist trailed in the wake of their swords and arrows, but the creature seemed unperturbed. Turning its hollow eyes on Seraphim, it rushed out of the room. The nimble halfling dodged under his clawing hands. She stepped back and released another pair of arcane bolts, and the creature dissolved into nothingness.

Parika entered the room, examining it from floor to ceiling. "There has to be some clue somewhere."

The others joined in, looking under the bed and inside drawers, finding nothing at all. Rachel went to the window and opened the shutter. "Uh, is this important?"

Nevroth and Parika joined Rachel at the window. Seraphim pushed a chair over and climbed up. Instead of a cityscape, the view from the window was a thick network of glowing yellow strands. The tangle started about an arm's length from the wall of the inn, and seemed to extend in all directions.

Seraphim shrugged as she saw everyone else looking at her. "I don't have any more idea about this than you do."

They returned to the hall, trying to decide which way to go. Parika looked each way, then slowly reached for an arrow. She nodded toward the left hand branch in the passage. "I think we should go that way." Down each of the other passages they could see another shadowy form advancing slowly. They didn't seem to be attacking immediately, so the four companions made their way down the one way left open to them. They reached a set of stairs in the middle of the hall that descended even as the passage continued to curve around. The two shadowy forms stopped at the fork in the hall and remained there.

From the rear of the line, Seraphim called out, "Do you see anything up ahead?"

Nevroth stopped as he came to the end of the hall. "Uh oh." The curving passage ended at a large square room, the mirror image of the common room they had seen back in the real Wavecrest Inn. All the original fixtures were intact, but the walls were festooned with a thick coating of the same yellow strands they had seen outside the window. Sitting in the middle of the room was an enormous spider, its bloated purple body perched atop mottled yellow legs. 

_Ah, visitors._ The voice sounded in their heads. The words were Tavian, but somehow their inflection sounded bizarre and unnatural.

"Spider," said Nevroth by way of explanation to those further back in the passage, not taking his eyes off the beast.

"What is this place?" asked Parika, eager for some answers.

_It is my... collection. Do you like it?_ Nevroth could see the thing's dripping mandibles rubbing together as it "spoke". _I so rarely have visitors._

"It's very nice," said Rachel, "but we'd like to leave now."

_Leave?_ There was no sinister sarcasm in the voice, only an alien bewilderment. _You cannot leave. It would spoil things._

Nevroth looked back at Rachel, who shrugged and raised her cutlass. They rushed in, swords striking at the joints in the creature's shell. Nevroth stood his ground, while Rachel leaped back out of reach of the spider's fangs. The spider skittered backward. _No, you must not go,_ it said. It rose up on its legs, towering above Nevroth, and arched its abdomen forward. A stream of yellow webbing spewed forth toward Rachel, but she dodged nimbly out of the way. Parika and Seraphim peeked around the corner, firing arrows and magical bolts past their comrades. 

Swords again shattered bits of the spider's carapace, drawing gouts of ichor from within. As Rachel withdrew once more to the doorway, she saw the spider rising up again. She prepared to dodge another web attack, but this time the spider sprayed the strands back and forth across the wall, quickly forming a glowing barrier that blocked both steel and spells.

Seraphim jumped up and down. "Quick! Cut it apart! If I can't see it, I can't blast it." Parika and Rachel started sawing at the sticky strands.

Within the glowing cocoon, Nevroth stood alone against the beast. He could see the poison dripping from its fangs and knew that no help could reach him in time. The manhunter smiled as he advanced on the spider. He had survived being alone before. Once more his swords struck at the beast, slicing and stabbing at the joint between its head and abdomen. As he sank his new blade into the flesh within, he could feel a sudden vibration up the arm to which it was attached. In the space of a heartbeat, the jointed segments of chitin fell apart like empty eggshells. As they clattered to the floor, the yellow strands enshrouding the room began to dissolve into bright light

***

When their vision cleared, the four companions were back in the dingy common room where they had first entered the inn. The residents stared and muttered, unused to people appearing out of nowhere. Swords were sheathed and bows shouldered. Nevroth's smile remained. "I don't think the inn's haunted anymore."

Eager for better accommodations, several of the squatters started running up the stairs to stake their claims. Parika grinned at the thought of spending all their beautiful new money. She patted her pack, then patted it again. Her grin fell as she felt no heavy bag of coins. Cursing, she dashed toward the stairs, elbowing people aside as she ran.

DM Notes:
* A few days after this session, I realized that no one sustained a single point of damage during this entire encounter. I was trying to balance custom creatures on the fly, and I erred too far on the side of safety. Things will even out soon, as you will see.


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## peteyfrogboy (Oct 21, 2003)

*Paths Of The Heart*

*NOTE: Minor Freeport spoilers ahead.*

Parika sat on her bed with a pile of gold coins in front of her. "Hello, my pretties!"

Rachel shook her head as she checked the edge of her cutlass with her thumb. "So, have you decided how you're going to spend your share?"

The half-elf flipped one of the coins with her thumb. She had started collecting antique coins after all, it seemed. "I think my precious body needs some better armor. I'm tired of being everyone's pincushion."

Rachel tried to imagine Parika wearing a suit of plate and chuckled. "Won't that make it hard to be all quiet and sneaky?"

"Ah," said Parika, holding up her finger, "not if it's mithril."

"Oh?" Rachel raised an eyebrow. "I've heard of that stuff." She glanced at her own sack of coins, and at the mail shirt she'd spent an hour oiling the night before. "But it's not like you can find it at the corner store."

"I've been asking around. It turns out that Blackhammer and Sons got a couple mithril shirts in trade a while back and haven't sold them yet."

Rachel wiped her cutlass with a rag and slid it back into its scabbard "Sounds like it's time for a shopping trip."

***

In the heart of the Old City, Blackhammer and Sons' smithy was a large complex housing not only the necessities of crafting armor and weapons but also a large family. Liam Blackhammer had been a member of the Captains' Council for fourteen years, and his prosperity had only increased during that time.

"This is where you guys got your armor before, right?" asked Rachel.

Parika nodded. "Yeah, we got a good deal. Their turnaround for custom work is pretty quick too."

The two women strolled through the open gate into a large courtyard in the center of the complex. Several forges dominated the center of the space, with armor stands and weapon racks arrayed around the edge. An awning extended from the encircling building, protecting the steel wares on display from the rain. At first glance, Rachel was impressed with the quality of their work.

As they entered the courtyard, they could hear the rhythm of hammers on metal echoing around them. Bright coals glowed in one of the forges. Yellow flames leaped as two young men hauled on bellows on either side. A third man had his back to the two approaching women. He was stripped to the waist, with only a leather apron to protect him from the heat. The muscles in his back bunched as he plunged his tongs into the coals and retrieved a long metal bar. He placed it on a massive anvil and began striking it with the hammer in his other hand, sending sparks flying around him. The rhythm was precise and measured as he moved the hammer along the bar, forming it into the rough shape of a blade. A mahogany colored ponytail swayed across his sweat-slicked back with each stroke.

Seeing no one else around, Rachel cleared her throat. "Ah, excuse me?"

The bladesmith half-turned, his hammer still striking unerringly as he looked back over his shoulder. His eyes were as blue and deep as the ocean. "Yes? Can I help--" His gaze swept over Parika and fixed on Rachel; there was a dissonant _clang_ as his hammer struck the bare anvil. "--you?"

Rachel was suddenly keenly aware of her worn sailor's coat and patched breeches. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I was, uh, looking for some armor."

The man blinked. "Armor?" He stared at Rachel a few heartbeats longer, then seemed to recover his senses. "Ah, yes. We make armor here."

Smiling, Rachel walked up to the smith. "I hear you might have a mithril shirt for sale."

He looked Rachel up and down and nodded. "It would take a little tailoring, but I think I have one that would fit you." He held out his hand. "I'm Angus, by the way. Angus Blackhammer."

Parika rolled her eyes.

***

"So did you get a good deal on yours, too?" Nevroth chuckled.

Parika huffed. "Not as good as _hers_, but he gave me a 'friend discount'." She took a sip of her wine. "Of course, mine didn't come with a personal armorer."

"Ah, so that's where she's been all week. I was wondering."

"Yeah, he's been taking her out to fancy restaurants and whatnot. Meanwhile, I'm stuck here with you."

Seraphim climbed up on an empty chair. "At least I have a job. You two just wander around the city all day like bums. Rich bums, but bums all the same." She looked down at Nevroth's hands. "Hey, I thought you were getting a new hook."

Nevroth reached into a pouch on his belt and pulled out a second, sharper hook. It was wreathed in magical, heatless flames. "I also got a better blade."

Rachel came down the stairs and headed straight for their usual table in the common room. She sat in the last chair and laid claim to a leftover meat pie. 

"Don't fill up, Rachel," said Parika. "You don't want to spoil your appetite for your big date tonight."

Rachel shook her head. "He's working tonight. Big order due next week."

"Amazing."

The door opened, and at first it looked as though no one was there. Seraphim was used to looking lower, though, so she was the first to see Gorsky Glitterlights wringing his hands as he approached the table.

"Hi Gorsky," said Nevroth. "What brings you out here?"

"I, ah, was actually looking for you fine folks," said the gnome. He saw no empty chairs at the table, so he contented himself with pacing back and forth. "I have a little problem."

Parika grinned. "Why else would you be looking for us?"

"Yes, well, you see, there's the city's bicentennial coming up, with the dedication of the lighthouse and all. It's also the hundredth anniversary of the Opera House's opening, so we're celebrating by putting on _The Death of Varula_ every day for a month."

"I don't see the problem," said Nevroth.

The gnome started wringing his hands again. "Well, do you remember that ghost we don't have? Well, it only strikes during productions of _Varula_. Every time we do the opera, someone ends up dead. It's incredibly popular, and it always brings in a lot of money, not to mention the careers it's helped. Normally it only runs for one night at a time a few times a year, so no one gets too worked up over the deaths. But if we have someone dropping dead twenty-eight days in a row, well, that's not going to be very good, is it?"

"Why not just do another opera?" asked Rachel.

"Oh, it's the Sea Lord's favorite, you see. I've really got no choice."

Nevroth shrugged. "So what are we supposed to do about it? Shouldn't you be talking to a priest?"

Gorsky sighed. "I did that already. According to them there's no way to get rid of a ghost except to put its spirit to rest. The problem is, no one who's seen it has survived to tell us what it wants."

Parika leaned forward on her arms. "So you want us to hang around backstage and chat with your murderous ghost, then make it go away?"

"Uh, yes?"

"And when is opening night?"

"Tonight."

"And what's in it for us?"

"Well, I _could_ pay you three hundred crowns." He cringed at the thought of so much money leaving his hands. "_Or_ I could give you your own private box," he forced a smile, "for life."

Rachel raised an eyebrow. "That sounds interesting."

Parika narrowed her eyes at Rachel. "I'm sure it'd make a perfect little love nest." She returned her attention to Gorsky. "But what's it worth?"

"Well, of course it would provide you with a lifetime of entertainment and cultural..." he trailed off under Parika's cold stare. "Normally, a box goes for ten crowns a night, five of which is profit, which would go to you should you not use it that night. Something is in production most nights of the year, and while the boxes don't sell out every time, it still starts to add up."

The half-elf sat back and did some calculations in her head. She nodded slowly. "Okay, we're in."

***

Nevroth sat on the floor of Gorsky's office flipping through ledgers. He had tried sitting in one of the chairs, but he couldn't read past his knees. Seraphim was sitting there instead, humming as she shuffled papers.

Parika poked her head in the door. "Find anything interesting?"

Nevroth pointed to a series of entries in the book open before him. "This is the cast list from the first production of the opera. Judging by the names, I'd say they were all human, which means they'd be dead by now. Nothing useful there. Except this one: Avandrae Sialentha. Sounds Elvish, doesn't it?"

"That it does," said Parika. She leaned over his shoulder. She pointed to another column in the ledger. "Wow. Are those their wages?"

"Yeah, that's the other interesting thing. This elf, whoever she was, took up almost half the budget of the production. She was cast as Varula -- no big surprise. I wonder if she's still alive."

"Most likely," said Parika. "Barring accidents or disease, elves just go on and on and on. So which one of them died?"

"None of them," said Seraphim. "I've been going through the clippings and letters from around the time of the first production. The only death mentioned is the composer, another elf named Fiarella Donadrien. The cause is mysterious, but it doesn't say her hair had turned white or anything else like what happened to the ghost's victims."

Parika walked over to Gorsky's desk, where the gnome was busily calculating potential profits from the production. "Hey, Gorsky. Do you know anything about these elves?"

"Hm? Who?" After they filled him in on their discoveries, he shrugged. "The composer I've never heard of, except for her credit on the opera. I took over the Opera House after its first owner died. Got a good deal on it, too." He chuckled for a moment, then refocused. "Anyway, Avandrae Sialentha is definitely a name I know. She's an eccentric elvish singer. Very talented, but incredibly picky about the projects she takes on. Only surfaces once every couple years, and charges a king's ransom for her services. It's worth it, too, from what I understand." He closed his books and stood up. "Well, curtain's soon. You'd better get ready backstage. Good luck."

***

How are we supposed to find this ghost if no one's ever seen it before?" asked Rachel.

"Well, most people would be trying to _avoid_ the murderous ghost," said Parika. "Even if they caught a glimpse of it they'd probably tell themselves it was something else."

The mood backstage was subdued. Stage hands scurried back and forth wordlessly, hauling props and costumes to and fro. The first act of the opera was in progress.

"This is supposed to be a popular opera? asked Seraphim.

Nevroth shrugged. "You have to take into account that they expect one of them to die every night for the next month. That's most of the cast." He looked around the jungle of ropes and curtains. "All right, let's get moving."

They didn't have to look long. In a small nook off to one side of the stage, a luminescent figure stood and watched the opera. She was dressed in the unchanging style of her people, her hair blowing around her delicately pointed ears in an unfelt wind. She watched the actors with a sour expression, arms crossed across her chest.

The manhunter started to reach for his sword, then stopped; it would do no good. "Fiarella Donadrien, I presume?"

The apparition's head turned. Her lifeless gaze sent a chill through all of them. "That was my name, soiled though it is."

"Soiled?" asked Parika. "How do you mean?"

The ghost looked back at the players on stage. "Chained to this travesty of an opera, how could it be unsullied? Listen to them, croaking away like congested toads."

"They're afraid you're going to kill them."

"As well I should. They've been butchering my masterpiece for a hundred years. They don't deserve to live."

"What about Avandrae Sialentha?" asked Seraphim.

The anger in the ghost's face faded, replaced by an even deeper pain. "Oh, Avandrae. She was different. She had the talent to make my music fly. After that first night I thought I could never hear anything so beautiful again. It broke my heart in two." Her features contorted in anger again. "Perhaps I should have waited for the encore so I could die of disgust instead."

Nevroth glanced at the others. "What if we could find Avandrae and convince her to perform your opera again?"

Fiarella turned again, hope blossoming on her tortured face. "You would do this?"

"If we can. She may be dead as well."

The ghost shook her head. "No, she lives still. I would know if it were otherwise." Her face hardened again.

"It will take some time to find her," said Parika. "Will you promise not to kill anyone until we return?"

The anger returned to the apparition's features. "I will stay my hand." A cold light burned in her eyes. "If you fail me, however, I will bring a horror the like of which not even this city can imagine!"

The ghost faded away, leaving only the echo of her final words in their ears.

DM Notes:
* The exchange between Rachel and Angus was the result of a simple opposed roll. They both made Diplomacy checks to haggle over the mithril shirt and both botched. "What does that mean?" I wondered. "Ah, it must be love!" On the second roll he botched again, so he fell particularly hard. Rachel is played by my wife, so it was quite amusing to run. I don't remember the exact words, but it went something like: "The sweaty, shirtless blacksmith turns around. You hear your bodice ripping."


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## peteyfrogboy (Oct 22, 2003)

*The Voyage Begins*

Early the next morning, the four companions were sharing breakfast and discussing their impending trip. Parika buttered a biscuit as she spoke. "Gorsky said that Avandrae lives in the Tanglewood in Ahandria. Wherever that is."

"I'm sure we can find it," said Nevroth. How many Tanglewoods can there be?"

"Three," said a voice from the corner of the room. They looked over and saw Delthic with a songbook laid open in front of him. "Gorsky told me about his problem, and how you were going to help him out with it. There are two small forests in the north of the Midlands called 'Tanglewood', but Avandrae lives in the large one in the south. The elves call it _Glamrenglir_."

Nevroth and Parika shared a silent look, then Parika leaned over in her chair and smiled. "You know, we might have need of someone who knows their way around Ahandria."

Delthic picked up his already-packed bag from under the table and walked over to join them. "I thought you'd never ask." He pulled a roll of vellum from a pouch on the side of his pack and laid it out on the table. It was a map of the Eastern Kingdoms, from Moril down to Tavis and everything in between. "I picked up a new map; mine's covered in notes that aren't really pertinent to this expedition." He placed his finger on a tiny cluster of islands in the middle of the ocean. "We're here." He traced a line straight across the open water to the Midland coast. "The quickest route is going to be straight across the Dragon Sea to Istaro, here." He tapped his finger on a small dot. "Then we can pick up some horses and head east overland." The route he described went through Pradnipha, Travatti, San Frinalo, and finally Luni. None of these names were familiar to anyone else. "Luni's on the edge of _Glamrenglir_; we should be able to find someone there to guide us to where we need to go."

Nevroth looked around at the others, whose faces were uniformly blank. "Uh, that sounds like a good plan."

The bard nodded and stowed the map away again. "Now we just have to find a ship willing to take us across the Dragon in storm season. I've got to tell some people I'll be gone. I'll meet you all down at the docks in an hour or so."

As Delthic went out the door, Parika shook her head. "He can be a useful guy sometimes." She turned to Seraphim. "Come to think of it, don't you have people to talk to, too? You have a job here, unlike the rest of us."

The halfling smiled. "I checked with them already. Turns out they insure the Opera House. They really don't want to have to pay out any claims if there's a massacre. I have their blessing."

***

Rachel stopped and put her hands on her hips. She nodded as she looked up at the merchant galleon tied up by the pier. The lines of the ship were graceful compared to her neighbors, with a generous number of sails that could be configured for any wind or weather. Painted across the bow were the words _Breath of Heaven_. "This is the one."

"Why this one?" asked Nevroth. Despite growing up in the port town of Cahiedra, he had never taken much interest in sailing.

"First off, it's a big ship, so it should be able to handle any weather better. Second, it's an Ahandrian merchant ship, so it's probably used to making this run. Third," she traced the curves of the ship in the air with her fingers, "It's a Lagurn ship. The Duchy of Lagurn makes the fastest sailing ships on the sea. Of course, they keep the best for themselves, but this is going to get us where we're going faster and safer than any other tub out here." She snapped her fingers. "Come on, Gorsky, let's go talk to the captain."

She and the gnome went up to the ship and were let on board. From below the others could see them talking with the captain. Though they were too far to hear, it was possible to tell from his familiar hair-pulling that Gorsky was complaining that the cost of passage would ruin him.

Delthic chuckled. "Oh, one other thing you'll be happy to hear. Since I started hanging around with you lot I've learned a few new ditties to help patch you up should anything... violent happen."

"Oh, I'm sure it will," said Nevroth. "It always does."

***

Four days and a minor amount of seasickness later, the _Breath of Heaven_ was approaching Istaro Harbor. The trip had been so uneventful as to almost be boring. Nevroth spent most of his time practicing with his new sword and hook. Seraphim and Parika played cards with the crew. Rachel made herself useful up on deck. The crew -- like most Ahandrian crews -- was all male, but they were impressed enough with Rachel's ability to let her help out.

There was a knock at the door of Nevroth and Delthic's cabin. The manhunter glanced at the small porthole and saw that it was not yet light out. He opened the door to see the captain. "We're in sight of Istaro. I'm dropping anchor here to wait for a pilot at dawn to take us in past the shoals. I'm sending some of my men ashore in the boat to make arrangements. You folks are welcome to go with them. I know you're in a hurry to get where you're going."

"I appreciate that, Captain. I'll let everyone know." He closed the door and poked the snoring bard. "Get up. We're leaving."


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## peteyfrogboy (Oct 23, 2003)

*Blood On The Water*

The surface of the water was calm, and the glow of lanterns filtered down beneath the gentle swells. _They have light,_ thought Bubuduul as he floated beneath the air breathers' boat. _It will not save them._ He gave the order to begin the assault, his low murmur carrying easily through the water. His warriors moved as one, taking up positions all around the unsuspecting vessel.

Bubuduul had recently been named Marr of the Western Reach, a prestigious office that would bring him much respect. To prove his worthiness, he chose to punish the air breathers who stole his people's food. Soon they would be food for the fish instead. Bubuduul swam upward toward the surface, his webbed hands wrapped tightly around the shaft of Breathstealer. The jagged edged spear was carved in a single piece from the bone of an ancient sea dragon and inlaid with rare corals, the sacred weapon of the Western Marr.

Quickly and quietly Bubuduul and his war party climbed the sides of the boat. they leaped over the rail as one, claws and teeth bared to rend the flesh of men. the handful of fishermen on board screamed and shouted as they saw the attacking sahuagin, especially those that laid eyes on the fearsome Ulupoodool. The Marr of the West had chosen the four-armed savage to accompany him on his inaugural campaign. Ulupoodool's kind were unpredictable and hard to control, but once set loose among enemies their viciousness was unmatched. Bubuduul stood back and watched as his warriors advanced. The fishermen, armed with little more than gaffs and belaying pins, would not last long. 

Something caught the Marr's attention on the starboard rail of the ship. Two of his warriors were surrounding one of the fishermen. One of them, however, had an arrow sticking out of his back. Something struck the same warrior in the head, sending scales and blood flying. Bubuduul looked over the side and could barely see the stern of a boat being rowed up alongside. He could hear many voices and weapons being drawn. One of the voices was making a horrible noise that almost sounded like singing. Teeth bared, he hissed. He had wanted a quick and complete victory. _No matter,_ he thought, readying Breathstealer, _it will only increase my glory._ One of the fishermen was standing amidships, shouting orders to the others. Bubuduul strode toward him and thrust his spear through the man's back. It emerged through his chest in a spray of blood and the orders ceased.

Two humans climbed up a net that was hanging over the side of the ship, coming over the rail on the poop deck. One of them held a curved blade in one hand and a shield in the other, while the second had two straight blades. Their swords glittered in the moonlight like darting fish. Bubuduul hurried aft to aid his warriors against the swordsmen. He passed Ulupoodool, who was making a mad charge at one of the fishermen, presumably to push him into the water. The Marr felt another pang of concern as he saw how awkwardly the four armed creature moved; he had likely never been out of the water before. Even as this thought occurred to him, he saw Ulupoodool trip and fall on the rocking deck.

As he arrived at the stern, his warriors were engaging the two air breathers. Now that he was closer he could see that the one with the curved sword was female. _The females are weak,_ he thought. _I will not waste Breathstealer on her._ He worked his way around the melee to face the man with two swords. He thrust the serrated blade forward, piercing the human's arm. One strike from that spear was usually enough to fell a man -- Bubuduul had seen it many times -- but this one fought on. The Marr dodged a strike from the man's longer sword, but the shorter blade struck him in the leg. Now that he was closer he could see that the short blade seemed to be growing right out of the man's arm. He began to wonder what sort of creatures these were.

Stealing a glance behind him, Bubuduul saw four of his warriors surrounding the female. He thrust at his own opponent again, drawing blood from his flank but still not slaying him. Looking back again, he saw two warriors lying on the deck and the other two bleeding badly. The female was untouched. Three more men had climbed up from below, joining Bubuduul's first opponent. He backed up toward the aft rail to keep from being surrounded.

Breathstealer danced and weaved as Bubuduul tried to fend off his attackers, but one sword managed to get by and draw a stinging slash across his cheek. He watched as the female finished off her last two opponents and leaped down to the main deck. None of the fishermen were still standing, but that seemed a small victory at this point.

Arrows and stones were still flying up from the boat, occasionally striking any sahuagin too near the rail. Bubuduul was fighting for his life, but part of his mind was mesmerized by the ballet of defeat playing out down on the main deck. Three of his warriors fired their massive crossbows at the female, but she dodged or shrugged off every bolt. Ulupoodool stabbed her with the trident in his upper hands, but then he lost his footing again and fell on one of the daggers in his lower hands. The savage rose again and surrounded her with the rest of the war party. He slashed her across the ribs with one of her daggers, but it was nowhere near enough. In only a few heartbeats she had finished her massacre.

Bubuduul hissed with rage, plunging his spear into the chest of the sword-handed demon before him. Blood sprayed forth, and the Marr could tell the human was close to death. It was not close enough, though, and Bubuduul knew it. The water beckoned behind him, but he knew that no kinder fate would await him should he return home a failure. _This is impossible!_ he thought. _It must be Grupokul's doing. He put some sort of curse--_


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## peteyfrogboy (Oct 24, 2003)

*On The Road*

As the sun rose over the low roofs of Istaro, the five travelers found themselves on dry land once more. Nevroth could still feel a slight tingling where he had been wounded, but Delthic's magic had repaired most of the damage. He held the spear that had caused those wounds in his hands. "Enchanted, you say?"

Seraphim nodded. "I could be more specific, but I don't have any pearls on hand."

"Pearls?" Parika's attention was always drawn to talk of gems.

"I need it for the identification spell," explained the halfling. She held her thumb and forefinger up  a half inch apart. "About so big."

Parika whistled. "I could use one of those myself."

Seraphim shrugged. "I used to keep a couple on me, but Rhodes has been supplying me since I got the job. This close to the ocean we might be able to find some here in town."

"You guys take care of that," said Rachel. "I'll try to find us some horses."

"I'll go with you," said Nevroth.

Delthic nodded his head toward the city. "I've got a few friends here. I'll see if any of them have heard anything about Avandrae."

***

As it turned out, Istaro had nothing in the way of pearls or information. They were able to find horses, however, and they headed out on the east road to Pradnipha that afternoon. The highway was well maintained and patrolled, with inns spaced comfortably all along the road. Seraphim and Parika were doubled up on one of the horses, recalling stories from their youth in Averdane. Delthic livened up the journey occasionally with songs drawn from his wide repertoire of traveling music.

After nearly five days on the road, they finally caught sight of the walls of Pradnipha. The high stone wall around the city center seemed out of place in the Midlands, but Pradnipha had been in the path of every Kufriti army that had come up from the south in the past centuries. Most Ahandrian cities had  walls of wood, if they had any at all. Despite the relatively comfortable traveling conditions of the road, they were grateful to be able to rest in a higher class of inn.

Delthic was still unable to uncover any rumors about their quarry, but Seraphim was able to find some pearls suitable to use for her magic. It seemed that all of the best pearls -- and other goods -- from Istaro tended to make their way up the road to the much larger city of Pradnipha. She also found a couple of explorers who needed an artifact identified, which helped offset some of her costs. The sahuagin's spear turned out to bear only a minor enchantment, but it was still more than any of their other weapons. Nevroth decided to hang on to it just in case it was needed.

After a restful night in the city, they set out toward the rising sun once more. The road east of Pradnipha was less heavily traveled than the one they had been on, and the convenient wayside inns became less and less so. The flat coastal plains gradually gave way to rolling hills as they neared the slopes of the Cappelori Mountains, which Rachel knew as the Red Peaks. The dwarves, of course, claimed the entire range as part of the empire of Stonehome. The towering crags loomed silently on the horizon, unchanging no matter what they were named.

"We should be able to make Travatti by tonight," said Delthic. Shadows stretched long before the four horses as the sun sank behind them. "If we're lucky we can --" He heard a whinny and looked back to see Parika wheeling her horse around and heading back up the road. Nevroth, meanwhile, was drawing his sword as he rode up the hill on the right side of the road. Before he could ask what was going on, his unspoken question was answered by a hail of arrows from either side. He kicked his heels to the horse's flanks and rode straight ahead. Normally, his response to banditry was to run fast and not look back, but somehow he didn't think his traveling companions would do the same. He stopped the horse after a couple of heartbeats and turned around.

People were coming over the hills on either side of the road. On the north side were three archers and an unarmed woman, while on the south were another four archers. Parika and Seraphim were both dismounting as the woman on the hilltop began gesturing. She pointed her finger in their direction, sending a sizzling green bolt arcing through the air. Her aim was poor, though, and her intended targets retaliated with arrow and eldritch fire, felling her in an instant. Rachel seemed to have been caught as much off guard as had Delthic, and her lack of vigilance had been rewarded with a pair of arrows protruding from her side. She leapt off her horse and charged up the hill, cutlass raised high. Nevroth had already gained the opposite hilltop, swords at the ready. One of the archers dropped his bow and drew a sword, striking sparks from Nevroth's blade with a powerful blow.

The archers concentrated their fire on the swordsmen in their midst, finding more success targeting Nevroth than Rachel. The archers on the north hill retreated as they fired, but Rachel ran them down one at a time. Nevroth and the bandit swordsman dueled on the south hill, while Parika and Seraphim weakened Nevroth's opponent from afar. Rather than turn their attention to the women below, the archers on the south hill continued firing at Nevroth. They were continuing to injure him, but their tactical error proved to be their undoing; the swordsman fell, leaving them at Nevroth's mercy. After the first of them was struck down by the manhunter, the others ran off into the hills.

Delthic rested his hand on the pommel of his sword. He wore it mainly for show; if he ever was in a position where he needed to draw it, he would probably be better off fleeing. He looked up at the setting sun. If they moved quickly, they could still make Travatti before dark.


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## peteyfrogboy (Oct 26, 2003)

*Ever Eastward*

Seraphim looked down at the town with an expression of distaste. "This is it?" From the top of the hill they could see the whole of Travatti, and there wasn't much to it. The largest buildings in sight were barns; Travatti was primarily an agricultural market town.

"What were you expecting?" asked Parika. "There's not exactly going to be a bustling metropolis out here in the sticks."

"Yeah, I know, but it's St. Hurin's Day."

Parika blinked, then mentally counted the days since they'd left Freeport. "Blast it, you're right." She joined the halfling in her sour mood. "Maybe we can get a good deal on a cow."

The traditional celebration of St. Hurin's Day, the patron saint of commerce, is the suspension of all fixed prices. Every sale must be negotiated, and most often the final price favors the buyer. According to folklore, St. Hurin himself travels in disguise on this night, testing the honesty of merchants. The punishment for misrepresentation of wares, gouging, or other duplicity differs from story to story, but it is uniformly harsh.

Parika and Seraphim wandered glumly through the bustling marketplace. If they had been in need of a new plow, they would have been in just the right place. They did find a booth selling jewelry, which was nothing spectacular but interesting enough to stop and browse. "I don't suppose you have any pearls about so big?" asked Seraphim doubtfully.

"Ahh, nope." replied the jeweler in the slow drawl common to rural Midland folk. "Sometimes I get big pearls like that from the city, but only when Master Lutti asks for them."

The halfling raised an eyebrow. "Master Lutti? Who's that?"

"Vincenzo Lutti. He's one of those wizards, you know. Lives outside of town a ways." He pointed across the square. "He's over yonder if you want to talk to him."

Vincenzo Lutti turned out to be a fairly average looking man, as wizards went. He was middle aged and slightly paunchy. His clothes were finely tailored, but they were a far cry from the elaborate robes affected by most who shared his profession. The few things he had for sale were either minor trinkets or out of their price range, St. Hurin's Day or no. He was pleasant enough, though, and he chatted with Seraphim for a while of matters arcane. As they were discussing the pros and cons of spellbooks, Parika's glazed expression became animated again. She rummaged in her pack and produced a small tome bound in green leather. "This was that woman's spellbook." 

"Oh, I had forgotten about that," said Seraphim. She smiled sweetly at the wizard. "What's it worth to you?"

Vincenzo took the book from Parika and flipped through it. "Hmm, not much in here. A good apprentice's book, perhaps." He thumbed through a number of blank pages at the back of the book, then stopped at the inside back cover. "Ah, this was Catherine Rollins' spellbook?"

Parika shrugged. "We didn't quite catch her name. We were busy trying to keep her from killing us on the road." 

"Hm, yes," the wizard looked back through the book again. "She's been a problem of late in these parts. She came up from Jal Kufri last year; I guess she didn't get along well with the Guild down there. Can't say as I blame her, actually. Still, she's made no friends on this side of the border either."

"Well, she's not going to be a problem any more," said Parika.

"Is that so?" Vincenzo frowned. "A pity. She had some talent." He closed the book.

In the end, Catherine Rollins' life's work was valued at four hundred gold crowns.

***

The next day, Seraphim used her last pearl to examine the magical properties of some items they had recovered from the bandits. The wizard had worn a plain copper pendant that was determined to have a protective aura. The swordsman had carried a few flasks full of a red tonic that increased the imbiber's strength. More interestingly, his sword turned out to be enchanted as well. 

"The enchantment is no greater than the one on the fish-man's spear," she said after finishing her examination.

"But it's a sword, and that's a much better thing," replied Nevroth happily.

The halfling handed the sword back. "What do you make of the engravings on the blade?"

"Honestly, I hadn't bothered to look at them yet." He tilted the blade to catch the lamp light better. "'The Sun is propelled through the Sky by the Motion of Crystal Spheres.'" He flipped the blade over. "'The Sun moves through the Sky because it is Tavion's Will that it does so.'" He shrugged. "It makes no sense to me."

Delthic stopped strumming his lute and leaned forward. "What was that again?" Nevroth repeated the phrases. "That's interesting. That's one of St. Olan's more famous quotes." As often happened, his reference was met with blank stares. "St. Olan is fairly obscure; it's no wonder you haven't heard of him. He was a renowned philosopher and theologian. There are much more elegant arguments attributed to him, but the one about the sun is the best known. It's said that his tongue was as sharp as any sword. What it means in this case, however, is as much a mystery to me as it is to you."

***

None of them were sad to leave Travatti that afternoon. It had been nearly two weeks since they left Freeport, and they could feel the deadline looming over their heads. The endless parade of hills made it seem like they were making no progress. Delthic tried to keep the mood upbeat with songs and stories, but it was difficult. The few discussions they had about their quest were discouraging; none of them were sure that they would be able to find the reclusive singer, let alone convince her to make the journey back with them. They slept uneasily under the stars that night.

They had just resumed their journey after the next day's brief midday meal when the silence was broken by a pair of ear-splitting screeches. Swooping over the hills on either side of the road came a pair of beasts with the foreparts of giant eagles and the hindquarters of lions. The massive griffons bore down on Rachel and Nevroth, but they seemed unprepared for such well-armed riders. Each of the creatures attempted to stall their dives, landing awkwardly before their intended prey. Delthic clung desperately to his horse's reins as it bolted ahead. Parika managed to turn her panicked horse to the rear and cover some distance before dismounting. Seraphim slid off the back of Parika's horse, her fingers weaving magical energy before her feet hit the ground. The flashing bolts streaked toward the griffon near Parika, sending feathers flying into the air. 

Rachel and Nevroth got down from their bucking mounts and readied their blades. They slashed and stabbed at the beasts, but every stroke from their swords was countered by a snapping beak or raking claw. Parika and Seraphim concentrated their fire on the beast mauling Rachel, and it slowly started showing signs of weakness. Rachel and Nevroth bled from a number of vicious wounds, staggering under the flurry of attacks. Rachel took a breath as the griffon stepped back from her, then threw her shield up over her face as the creature spread its wings and leaped over her head. It landed in front of Delthic's horse, which reared up and dumped the bard on the ground. The horse raced off, pursued by the bleeding griffon. Seeing its partner leaving, the second griffon broke off its attack and took to the air, flying away in the direction Parika's horse had run.

Delthic did what he could for Nevroth and Rachel's wounds as Parika rounded up the two remaining horses. They mounted up as best they could and made haste down the road. Afraid that the griffons might not have satisfied their hunger, the weary travelers walked and rode through the night. It nearly came as a surprise when they reached the outskirts of San Frinalo. The low buildings of the town were little more than deeper shadows in the dark of night; not a single light could be seen anywhere. They managed to find an inn along the main road, its sign lit only by the moon peeking over the hills. The door and shutters were closed.

"Some hospitality," muttered Nevroth.


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## peteyfrogboy (Oct 26, 2003)

This post brings the story up to the current point in the campaign. The next session won't be until next weekend, so the next installment should be shortly after that.


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## peteyfrogboy (Nov 3, 2003)

Well, we didn't play this weekend, so no new updates yet. We may be adding a couple new players, so I may post some introductory information on them once their characters are put together. On a more immediate note, I'll be working on a related story for NaNoWriMo: the history of Rachel's mother Sarah Caldwell. Chapters are being posted here. There are some in-game spoilers, so my players should keep out.


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## pogre (Nov 10, 2003)

Did you play this weekend?


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## peteyfrogboy (Nov 10, 2003)

pogre said:
			
		

> Did you play this weekend?




No, but we should be playing this coming weekend. I'm also planning another campaign with a different group in the same world, but there's no telling how that will pan out yet.


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## peteyfrogboy (Nov 25, 2003)

I really would like to update the story hour, but this month has been a disaster for getting everyone together to play. While this is bad for the story hour, it has given me lots of time to write The Legend Of Black Sarah, which is drawing quickly to its exciting conclusion.


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## DiFier (Nov 26, 2003)

peteyfrogboy said:
			
		

> I really would like to update the story hour, but this month has been a disaster for getting everyone together to play. While this is bad for the story hour, it has given me lots of time to write The Legend Of Black Sarah, which is drawing quickly to its exciting conclusion.




Well I'm way far behind on this story hour so I don't mind too much.


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## peteyfrogboy (Dec 8, 2003)

*Coming Attractions*

Tune in soon tosee our intrepid heroes as they race against time to save the citizens of Freeport from horrors from beyond the grave! 

SHUDDER as they battle bloodthirsty monsters!

GASP as the secrets of the Tanglewood are revealed!

Join the saviors of Freeport as they welcome new faces to their ranks, though not all who left the City of Adventure will return!


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## peteyfrogboy (Dec 8, 2003)

*Murder In A Small Town*

I don't know if anyone's still reading this, but if you are, thanks for putting up with the long wait!

***

Parika banged on the door. "Hey, is anybody in there?"

After a few heartbeats, the door opened a crack, a locking chain could be heard rattling as it opened, and a wary eye peeked out. "Who's there?" The eye looked over the battered travelers, then back to Parika. "You shouldn't be out at night." The door closed and they could hear the chain being removed. The innkeeper opened the door again and ushered them in quickly before closing and locking the door behind them.

"What are you so afraid of?" asked Rachel. 

The innkeeper wrung his hands nervously. "We thought it was over." He shook his head. "Since the thaw began, we've had a rash of murders here in town. Not normal killings, mind you -- we see those from time to time -- but horrible, gruesome mutilations. A Manhunter came last week and caught the murderer. We thought it was all over when he went to the gallows, but two nights ago the murders started again, worse than ever. No one's safe outside at night now."

"Are you sure you hung the right man?" asked Parika.

He nodded. "No doubt about it. He confessed to all of it, even showed us bodies we hadn't found yet. Sure enough it was him. And we all heard his neck snap when they hung him. We're cursed, I tell you."

The companions exchanged uncertain glances. As much as they wanted to help the unfortunate citizens of San Frinalo, they were on a strict deadline that was already looming dangerously close. Parika turned to the innkeeper. "I wish there was something we could do, but we really need to get back on the road as soon as possible. We were really only stopping to pick up a couple of fresh horses."

"Can't say as I blame you," said the innkeeper. "I wouldn't want to stay here either. I'll sell you two horses for a hundred and fifty crowns. If I'm still alive in the morning, maybe I'll take the money and leave myself." Money changed hands, and he directed them to the stable out behind the inn. There was no guarantee given on the condition of the horses.

***

The half moon ducked in and out of the clouds as the five travelers made their way around to the back of the inn. The alley was not especially narrow, but the two story inn on one side and the high wall of the town's church made the space feel somewhat claustrophobic.

As Nevroth passed the rear of the church, he was surprised to see three figures walking toward them through the graveyard. "Funny, I thought everyone in this town was afraid to go outside," he muttered to himself.

Parika came up beside the perplexed Manhunter just as the moon made a fleeting appearance in the sky. The pale light revealed an unhealthy pallor to the advancing trio. Moreover, it showed one of them to be wearing a noose about his neck. The half-elf reached for an arrow.

The distance between the two groups closed rapidly; swords and claws were bared and blooded. Aside from an obscure ballad about undertakers that came to Delthic's lips, no words were spoken as justice was visited once more on the murderer and his two most recent victims. Nevroth was slashed several times by the claws and teeth of the restless dead, and Rachel felt her body stiffen as though she were cold and in the grave herself.

Ferocious though they were, the creatures were no match in the end for arrow, blade, and magic. There was no fanfare for the heroes' efforts that night, but they did end up getting their horses for free.

DM Notes:
* This whole encounter was really just a baroque way of saying "you get attacked by three ghouls".
* Not all undead are the products of ambitious necromancers. Some are just people too evil to stay dead.


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## pogre (Dec 9, 2003)

I'm here 

I had to reread to remember where this campaign was, but that was an enjoyable pursuit in any case.


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## peteyfrogboy (Dec 9, 2003)

*Into The Woods*

It was almost a surprise two days later when they came upon the vast expanse of the Tanglewood. The road led them to the city of Luni, which was a refreshing change from the small towns they had been traveling through. The city had a long and winding wall built of timbers and filled with stone, a testament more to the city's easy access to lumber rather than its defensive readiness. The wall was unguarded and the gates looked as though they hadn't been closed in years.

The vast majority of the buildings in Luni were constructed of wood and plaster, and every exposed surface was brightly painted. The beams and eaves of the houses were carved into fanciful shapes, each one competing with its neighbor for intricacy and imagination. These carvings were painted as well, whether realistically or gaudily.

The festive atmosphere that seemed to pervade the city lightened the mood somewhat, but there was no time to experience the city's charms. Delthic was dispatched immediately to meet with his bardic contacts. Attempts to engage Avandrae's services almost always came through Luni, so information on how to contact her was easily obtained. They were put in contact with a local woodsman named Ricardo Correia, who had been taking hopeful producers into the woods for decades. He seemed mildly surprised at the heavily armed crew, but agreed to take them all the same.

"It's just as well that you've got weapons," he said as they stabled their horses at an inn on the eastern edge of the city. "The wood's been more dangerous lately."

"Wonderful," muttered Parika.

"I don't make any guarantees," said Ricardo, giving the same warning he had given a hundred times before. "The elf sings for who she wants and won't be persuaded otherwise. She's been even more reluctant than normal of late, so don't be surprised if this trip is for nothing."

"We don't have much choice," said Nevroth. "It's a matter of life or death."

The woodsman shrugged. "It always is. I just wanted you to know that I don't give refunds."

The well worn path into the Tanglewood was fairly easy to follow, though it wound through the woods and crossed many other tracks during the day they spent following it. As they started out on the second day of their journey in the woods Ricardo told them that they were very near their destination: a small clearing in the woods where the elves of Sialentha Village traditionally met with outsiders. It was not long after this announcement that they met some of the other denizens of the forest, who leaped out of the woods around them with howls of lupine hunger.

Wolves seemed to materialize out of nowhere, dashing through the dense foliage on either side of the narrow path. Most of them were average sized; fearsome, but no match for the griffons that they had fought the previous week. The two who blocked their path forward, however, were far closer to those monstrous proportions. 

Ricardo grimaced and reached for the sword strapped across his back, but before he could get it clear of its harness the two worgs leaped upon him, each grabbing a leg in its powerful jaws and dragging him to the ground. Nevroth ran to the woodsman's aid, but the great beasts were not easily distracted from their little game.

The other wolves surrounded the rest of the group, nipping and biting. Parika dodged fangs as she fired arrows at dangerously close range, while Delthic struck up a tune and hoped he wouldn't die. Seraphim managed to put some distance between herself and the wolf pack, sending streaks of fire toward the slavering worgs further down the trail. Rachel was not concerned by the smaller wolves, laying about herself with her cutlass as she advanced on the greater threat.

Her advance wasn't quick enough to save Ricardo, however. The worgs dropped his bleeding legs and snatched up his arms instead, yanking and ripping until he hung limp and lifeless between them. Rachel settled for vengeance as she slashed at them, her blade cutting through fur and flesh and sinew. Nevroth hewed and stabbed, aiding Rachel in her butchery. 

Meanwhile, Parika and Seraphim whittled away at the pack surrounding Delthic. The bard managed to avoid major injury, and his voice remained strong as he bolstered the spirits of the others. The surprise that had accompanied the wolves' appearance was long gone, and the battle turned quickly against them. Soon they were all slain or fled. There was nothing they could do for their brave guide except build a cairn above him amid the trees.

***

The elves' clearing was close by the site of the wolves' attack, and there they rested and bound their wounds. The sun moved slowly through the sky as they waited, and soon it was hidden in the west by the great trees that stood at the edges of the clearing. After weeks spent in hectic travel, it was frustrating to have no option but to wait. Wait they did, however, and as the setting sun painted the sky in pastel hues their patience was rewarded.

Four slim figures emerged silently from the trees, draped in cloaks cut and dyed to match the leaves of the trees around them. Each of the elves held a bow with an arrow fitted to the string, though none were drawn. One of the elves cast his gaze over the group, a slight scowl on his face. He spoke with the accent of one who has little use for foreign tongues: "Why have you come here?"

Seraphim stepped forward. "We have come to engage the talents of Avandrae Sialentha for an important performance in the city of Freeport."

The elf's scowl did not soften. "Where is Ricardo? His absence is worrisome."

"Sadly, we ran afoul of wolves on our way to meet with you, and he fell in battle."

"This is ill news," said the elf, "but unfortunately we have had little of any other kind of late." He studied the five road-weary travelers more closely for a moment, then returned his arrow to its quiver. "Normally I would tell you that it is unlikely that Avandrae would comply with your request, but in truth I must admit that it is impossible. For a year and more she has been the captive of a giant who lives in a tower near our village. I would send you away, but you may be our only hope to save her."

"Why haven't you tried to rescue her yourselves?" asked Parika.

"He has threatened to kill her if we attempt such a thing. You, however, are not subject to that promise. If you would be willing to risk an assault on his fortress, I will provide you with a guide to get you there."

Nevroth shrugged. "I don't think we have much of a choice."


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## peteyfrogboy (Jan 1, 2004)

*The Forest Lord*

Kharton leaped up to the top of the tower, landing with a heavy thud on the ancient stone. He looked out over his domain and smiled. "It is grand, is it not?" he asked one of the guards posted thereat the pinnacle of his fortress.

"Yes, Lord Kharton," replied the goblin, bobbing his head. "It is big place."

The tower had once been an Elvish outpost, though it had been many long centuries since any of the fair folk had set foot there. The central tower was some sixty feet in diameter, tapering slightly over its forty foot height. The roof was a low, fluted cone of bluish metal that still shone in the midday sun despite ages of neglect. The smooth white surface of the stone tower was still flawless where the walls were intact, though much of the south and west faces of the structure had collapsed, and part of the roof on that side had been torn away. Whatever battle had happened there was lost in the past. The breached walls had been rebuilt with crude log construction on the ground floor, with a wide gate set into the southern face of the tower. The upper two floors of the fortress were open to the air, providing only partial cover from the elements for the floors below.

Four slender guard towers surrounded the central structure, each accessible only by a walkway from the top floor of the main tower. The one at the southwest corner had been destroyed by the same force that had toppled the fortress's walls, and the walkway to the northwest tower was missing as well. The other two towers were still intact, and they were manned by wary goblin warriors. For twenty yards around the fortress the trees had been cleared, making an easily watched perimeter. Goblins, both on foot and mounted on wargs, patrolled the area.

Kharton sighed, glad that he had more than goblins for company here. Granted, his dim-witted guards were the most willing inhabitants of the place, but their conversational abilities were woefully limited. Only two years ago, Kharton himself had been little better. He had lived with others of his kind in the deeper woods -- ogres, Men called them -- clad in simple furs and bashing wildlife with clubs. Kharton was not satisfied with that crude existence. He had seen what Men could create, despite being such small, weak creatures. If they could create great kingdoms, then certainly he could do better.

The young ogre had struck out on his own, traveling toward the lands of Men, watching them and studying them when the opportunity presented itself. He found the ancient tower already home to the goblins, who he formed into a disciplined force to serve his will. He rebuilt the lower part of the fortress, creating a more defensible structure. A trade road ran through the woods a few miles away, and he lay in wait with his warriors there. They let many small bands of Men pass by, groups that the goblins would have attacked in the past. Now they had a leader, however, a leader with greater ambitions than simply gnawing on the bones of Men. Eventually he saw his quarry: a pair of wagons heavily loaded with copper mined from the mountains to the south. They were well guarded, but the ambush Kharton planned took them by surprise. Between the numbers of goblins and Kharton's great strength, the Men who guarded the wagons fell like wheat. Soon the ogre was dragging the wagons back through the woods, piled high with plunder and the bodies of his enemies.

The great weakness of Men, Kharton decided, was not their lack of strength, but their lust for money. He sent his goblin warriors out to deal with woodsmen in remote parts of the Tanglewood, trading heavy bars of copper for a variety of goods. One of them was even convinced -- with enough copper -- to bring a blacksmith out from one of the towns on the outskirts of the forest. By the time the smith realized he was being brought to meet with goblins, it was too late. They captured him and dragged him back to the fortress. The guards of the copper shipment had been wearing shirts of mail, now ripped and torn by the force of Kharton's blows. The smith was chained to the wall in the lower part of Kharton's stronghold, where he worked night and day to fashion the ruined mail shirts into a single, large garment fit for the ogre's broad frame. He was no skilled armorer, but he knew enough about the craft to be able to make a reasonable attempt. Kharton was well pleased by his civilized armor, though not pleased enough to refrain from eating the smith when he was finished.


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## peteyfrogboy (Jan 5, 2004)

*Debriefing*

"And that's when the ogre killed Delthic Duin?" Triesta Rhodes stood with her hands folded loosely in front of her, her severe black gown only accentuating her pale skin.

Seraphim nodded. "Yes. It was awful. He was cut nearly in two. We didn't have any option but to bury him there in the forest." The halfling shifted uncomfortably on the antique chair. The small sitting room was decorated with a fortune in rare antiques and art, but the Rhodes sisters' peculiar tastes made the room seem somehow unsettling.

"A pity," said Triesta's twin Masenna, shaking her head slightly. She was dressed identically to her sister, and it was often hard to tell them apart when they didn't wear their monogrammed jewelry. "He was a talented musician." She frowned slightly and glanced at Triesta, who gave a brief nod. Seraphim could only guess what their wordless exchange was about, but she would bet her boots that Delthic had a life insurance policy with them that needed to be paid out now. Masenna looked back at her. "What happened then?"

"After Kharton fell -- that was the ogre's name -- the goblins lost heart and fled into the woods. There was no point in chasing them. Two of the prisoners the ogre had kept chained down in the bottom of the main tower had escaped during the battle and came to help us. One of them was a Wilderwoman sorceress called Wind In The Grass, and the other was Merrill Rowland, a Surian priest."

Masenna's eyebrow quirked upward. "Rowland? That's not a Surian name."

Seraphim shrugged. "I thought it seemed a little odd myself, but I never found an opportunity to ask about it. Anyway, the two prisoners told us that they had heard singing from one of the guard towers, the one that didn't have a bridge to the main tower. It took a little doing to get in there, but we found Avandrae safe and sound at the bottom of it. Obviously, she agreed to come back with us to Freeport. The other two decided to come along as well."

Triesta checked the notes she had been keeping during the interview. "According to what you've told us so far, you had been gone from Freeport for three weeks at this point. How did you manage to get back in only seven days?"

"We were trying not to think about that. We rode as hard as we could coming back, but there was no way we could get back to Istaro, let alone Freeport, in just one week. Fortunately, the wizard we met in Travatti, Vincenzo Lutti, was willing to help us. It turns out he knows one of the wizards here in the Freeport Guild, Listrianna Morgill."

Masenna nodded. "We are familiar with her."

"Well, they worked out something so that he could use the Guild teleport chamber to get us back. In return, we agreed to do him a favor sometime in the future."

Triesta frowned. "It's better to pay a wizard in cash."

Seraphim nodded. "Unfortunately, we weren't in much of a position to negotiate at that point. The rest of it you probably know already. I assume you were at the opera?" The ragged band of travelers had returned to Freeport the very afternoon of the last performance of _The Death of Varula_. Word of their arrival -- or more accurately, Avandrae's arrival -- had spread through the city like wildfire. Everyone who was anyone in Freeport was in attendance; a few Guild wizards who arrived late set up floating platforms near the ceiling. Luckily, the elf had no need to rehearse her performance. The few people who had seen her in the opera the first time would later say that it was even better the second time. Gorsky nearly passed out when he saw the box office numbers.

"We were able to get third row seats," said Triesta with a smile that was mirrored simultaneously by her sister. She set her notes aside and picked up a ledger from a nearby desk. "We're pleased that your mission was successful and that you returned safely. However, in your absence, we have developed quite a backlog of work for you..."

DM Notes:
* There was a long hiatus before the fight with Kharton. By the time we actually got to play again, we were all pretty much ready to get to the next storyline. After the battle, I fast-forwarded them back to Freeport. When I gave them their deadline, I had no idea how long it would take them to actually complete their quest. I knew it would be close, but it ended up a much longer trip than they had time for. Early on I decided to give them a quick way to get back, at the low cost of another plot hook.
* The two prisoners who broke out of Kharton's tower are being played by two new additions to our gaming group. I was quite happy to have some more cultural diversity in the party, which will allow me to explore some of the less central parts of my world.
* With the addition of another sorcerer as a primary PC, Seraphim has been phased out of the party.


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## peteyfrogboy (Jan 19, 2004)

*Tall Tales*

Snick Coincatcher stood just inside the door of the Comely Mermaid, scanning the late night crowd. He scowled at the low murmur that was the tavern's only noise. Those who didn't know him well would have been hard pressed to notice any change in his usually sour expression. 

The sound of lute strings being tuned caught the pawnbroker's ear. He made his way through the crowd toward the far side of the room. The rain had driven many people indoors who would normally have spent the night on the street; a few pennies would buy them some stale beer and a dry corner for the evening. Though he lacked the height and bulk of many of the people around him, Snick had long ago learned how to put his bony fingers and elbows to use one the more sensitive parts of the human anatomy. A path cleared before him as he made his way toward the sound of impending music.

As he reached the wide hearth that doubled as a small stage, Snick's scowl deepened. The gangly youth tuning his instrument was not who he was expecting to see. He leveled his gaze on the bard for a moment with no effect. A silver noble tossed into the boy's empty hat gave better results: the bard's head popped up with a broad grin on his face. "A request, milord?"  he asked brightly. "John Bunden at your service."

Snick spoke in his cold, raspy voice: "Where's Delthic Duin?"

John's smile wilted. "Ah, um... you haven't heard?"

"It's been a busy week." Snick glanced pointedly at the heavy silver coin in the bard's hat. "I trust you'll enlighten me?"

"Of course." The smile returned as John found himself in slightly more familiar territory. He set the half-tuned lute down beside him. "I haven't had a chance to put music to the tale yet, but I know as well as any the strange tale of the Saviors of Freeport." Heads began to turn toward the young bard as his voice projected out into the room.

Snick raised an eyebrow. "'Saviors of Freeport'? Who the hell are they?"

"Oh, they've made quite a name for themselves lately. Giving us bards a lot of material of late. The pirate princess Rachel Caldwell, the mysterious Manhunter Nevroth, and Parika the bold treasure hunter."

"I might have known she would be mixed up in this," muttered Snick. "As I recall, she's not that bold." He shook his head. "Go on."

"I'm sure you must have heard about their daring rescue of the greatest songstress in the land, Avandrae Sialentha?"

"Of course." The opera had been the talk of the town for a couple of days, before it was supplanted by more pressing news. "Delthic went with them, as I recall."

John shook his head sadly. "Alas, our great colleague went with the Saviors on their quest, but he did not return. Felled by Kharton, the giant of the Tanglewood, was he. A sad story, and a great loss to the College and the city."

"And to others," said Snick quietly. He had learned what he needed to know, but he felt compelled to at least get his noble's worth out of this beardless bard. "So what happened after they returned?"

"Ah, yes. Well, the Saviors' great deeds had not gone unnoticed by the Captain's Council, and Sea Lord Drac himself summoned them to his palace to make them companions of the Order of Freeport." The mention of the Sea Lord's name caused many hands in the audience to make subtle warding signs. "The affair was as grand as any in living memory, with all the shining lights of the city collected in a single place. A darkness fell, however, as the hour grew late. A mysterious prophet appeared at the grand ball, bringing portents of doom. Only one hope was left: an ancient pagan artifact, carven of jade in the shape of a serpent. It was the blackest of magic of which the prophet spoke, and it could be countered only by the same."

Snick mentally calculated the current market price of jade statuary. "I assume the 'Saviors' took it upon themselves to find this artifact, since there's been no doom recently?"

"Indeed they did, milord. It was no easy task, to be sure, for the treasure was hidden beyond a place that is a legend all on its own: Black Dog's Cave."

A pained howl echoed from out in the audience. Heads turned toward a crippled old sailor deep in his cups. "Aye, so it were. If I'd known the scurvy dogs'd clean the blasted place out, I woulda charged them more to tell 'em where it was! Now I've no more livelihood and am reduced to a mere beggar."

The more socially conscious denizens of the Mermaid flung a few pennies toward the old pirate, but most returned their attention to the real story. "Indeed, they did find the cave of that murderous pirate Black Dog," continued John, "and within they faced deadly traps and the uneasy dead. Past all these dangers they fought, and found the very hoard of Black Dog himself. The angry spirit of Black Dog was not about to let his gems and jewels go without a fight, and he nearly flayed bold Parika's soul away. The Saviors were victorious, however, and came away with a king's ransom in glittering treasure."

The bard paused for a moment for a drink of wine. "Now, I must add that the three Saviors were accompanied by two others they had rescued from the giant of the Tanglewood. The one was a vicious woman of the Wild Lands, with fangs for teeth and fire in her hands. The other was a devout priest, bringing the light of the Bright Lord into that dark place." John had originally heard the story with a Surian holy man in that role, but he didn't see any need to add yet another unbelievable character into the mix. Everyone loved a tale of a heroic priest, but a Surian saving the city was a hard story to sell.

"Even though they had all the wealth a man could ever need, still they had not found the object of their quest. Spurred on only by honor and duty, they descended yet further into an ancient hive of serpent men, braving yet more dangers in search of their prophesied prize." The stories of serpent men had been making the rounds of late, and they were always a good addition to a tale. For once, though, they were actually involved. "They faced terrors and challenges, ghosts and riddles. The hours became like days in that dark vault, but the heroes' resolve did not fade. On they fought, finally extracting the gleaming serpent of jade from the claws of those monsters and returning to the light of the world above.

"As they emerged from that pit of horrors into a gray dawn, they could see a vast armada of ships in Freeport Harbor. The hundreds of ships were eagerly awaiting the night's festivities: the dedication of the great lighthouse." The bard smiled, bending over to pluck the shining silver coin from his hat. He slipped it into his purse. "But that, milord, is another story."

DM Notes:
* I ended up taking the option of stopping time within the serpent temple so they wouldn't mess the lighthouse dedication. Not only did the party need to stop and heal several times, but Parika was suffering from four negative levels inflicted by Black Dog's spectre. I didn't want her to have to go through the entire temple as a 1st level rogue, so I suspended the saving throws for the level drain as well until they emerged from the temple.
* Honestly, I'm pretty burned out on this game at this point, but I don't want to leave the story unfinished. This installment brings us up to the current point in the game. I estimate one session left to go, and one more story hour update. Most of the action is very much glossed over in this update (and the previous one), but, like I've said, I find it hard to get motivated to write up modules.
* As far as the campaign goes, the end of _Madness in Freeport_ will mark the end of the first part. There will be a hiatus for a while, after which we should be returning to the next part of the story. The tentative title of the next part of the campaign is _Bloodlines of Freeport_, and dangling plot hooks will be yanked on.
* During the hiatus the group will be changing gears and playing a Star Wars campaign. Nevroth's player will be running the game (we've actually played one preliminary session already), and the story hour can be found here .


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## peteyfrogboy (Mar 7, 2004)

*Company Of Heroes*

Finally, the last session has been played! I hope you've enjoyed it.

***

Seraphim sat with her feet dangling over the edge of her chair, cradling a thick ceramic mug full of tea in her small hands. Across the table from her was Rodrigo, a slim young Midlander who worked with her at Rhodes. He shook his head with disbelief. "You know Parika the Bold?"

The halfling smirked. "We were friends... well, a long time ago. Her life seems to have gotten a lot more exciting since she moved here, though."

Rodrigo nodded. "Everyone's talking about it, even though the Council denies everything. They say she went out the Milton's Folly the night of the dedication."

"I don't doubt it," said Seraphim, taking a sip of her tea. "She and her friends came by that morning with a bunch of stuff they needed identified in a hurry. I can't imagine why they'd be in such a rush unless they were planning to do something big, and soon."

"You mean they brought Black Dog's treasure to you?""

She shrugged. "I suppose it may have been. I was too busy analyzing dweomers to do any research on the items themselves. I didn't really feel like asking about them either; they all looked like they'd had a rough night. Lots of recently healed wounds, dirty clothes, that sort of thing."

"I wonder how they got out to the lighthouse?" said Rodrigo. "The Sea Lord's ships were patrolling all around it that day."

***

"I could barely breathe, I was so nervous." Merrill tapped his fingers on the arms of the straight-backed chair. "We were all crammed into that tiny rowboat, trying to sneak across the harbor past ships full of bloodthirsty marines. If one of them had spotted us..."

Marin Travio nodded his head, stroking his short white beard with his hand. The Surian elder had agreed to listen to Merrill's story shortly after the younger priest had begun attending services at the temple. "I can imagine how harrowing that must have been," he said in a soothing baritone. "Sometimes the Mother grants as much grace with her eye closed as with it open. As I recall, the moon was dark that night."

Merrill nodded. "I never imagined myself doing that sort of thing. The people I was with seemed to find it perfectly normal to be creeping around in the dark, climbing up ropes into a guarded monument. Even if the place hadn't been full of cultists, I doubt we would have found a pleasant welcome." He stopped for a moment, glancing at the elder apprehensively. "It was illegal, I suppose, wasn't it?"

Travio smiled. "If rules were not meant to be bent -- or sometimes, if the circumstances warrant it, broken -- we would still be saying prayers alongside our estranged brethren. No, sometimes it is only by following our hearts that we can see the true path."

"I suppose." Merrill looked down at his hands. He had done his best to refrain from violence that night, but even as he saved the lives of his companions he had been soaked with blood.

***

Wind In The Grass indicated a spot directly over her heart with one finger. "I could see the quarrel coming right at me, but there was nothing I could do. We were standing twenty feet up in an open archway. There was nothing to do but stand there and hope it missed me." She shook her head. "By the Boar's teeth, I swear I should have been struck dead right then."

White Eared Fox nodded as he rhythmically brushed his horse down. He was one of a small number of Wildermen who had settled in Freeport, and his horse training field just north of the city was a frequent gathering place for other expatriates of that land. "You are not dead, though," he said simply.

"No, but it was a close thing. Almost as soon as I felt the stab of pain in my chest, I felt Merrill catch me. If he hadn't healed the wound even as it happened, I feel sure it would have been too late." She rubbed the spot, which still felt numb even weeks later. "It was a hard-fought battle with the guards at the bottom of the lighthouse, but that was as nothing compared to what awaited us above. Once we won our way to the stairs, we climbed into a nest of the true servants of that dark god. they produced a constant barrage of fear and darkness in addition to their more mundane weaponry, and it was all we could do to keep ourselves alive. In the end, though, their power was spent and we hunted them all down."

"A good battle," said Fox with a nod. "But not the last?"

Wind shook her head. "The way upward was blocked by cunning tricks, the likes of which I had never conceived."

***

"Remember the statues?" asked Parika as she leaned on the rail of the _Raging Wind_. The crisp smell of salt air was refreshing after the heavy odors of the city.

Nevroth nodded. "We would have been there for hours if you hadn't figured it out."

The half-elf chuckled. "It wasn't that hard. We knew there had to be stairs going up, and there were only a few possible triggers to open the hidden passage. It was just a matter of pulling and pushing everything that looked like it could move."

"I guess." Nevroth tapped on the rail with his hook. "I just wish I hadn't gone up the stairs first."

"I know what you mean," said Parika with a nod. "What was that thing they had crawling around up there? I never got a good look at it. That insane babbling and the flashing lights had me all turned around. I think I shot Wind in the leg." She rubbed a spot on her forehead where the hair seemed shorter that the rest of the surrounding area. "I'm pretty sure she blasted me once."

Nevroth shuddered at the memory. "It was like a big pile of eyes and mouths, all boiling and squirming. If you all hadn't come to your senses and helped me kill it, I would have joined that big pile of bones it was crawling around in."

"Yeah. I wonder how many people were creeping around that place. There was that one unlucky girl who got shot in the back down in the water shrine, remember? That potion she had was probably her big escape plan, but she never got the chance to use it."

***

"I drank that potion that Parika gave me, and suddenly I was flying like a bird!" Rachel swooped her hands around to illustrate. "It was amazing."

Angus nodded as she leaned up against him. He put an arm around her shoulders as she continued telling her story. He was taller than her, and more broadly built, but as he watched her hands he could see the dozens of tiny scars that marked her skin. He had a few small burn marks of his own, but those were born of carelessness, not the true heat of battle. he wondered if, for all his brawn, he would be able to rush into battle like Rachel did time after time.

"So where was I?" Rachel was still smiling at the memory of flying. "Oh, right. So we came up through a trap door from the lair of that babbling... thing... and found ourselves almost at the top of the tower. Drac himself was there to taunt us, and threw some sort of exploding skull thing at us before he ran off. There were four serpent archers up at the top of the stairs, and one serpent wizard who started flying around, shooting fire and lightning at us. But like I said, Parika had that fancy potion of hers and I went flying up to beat on that snakey spellflinger of theirs. It was strange, because he didn't really fight back like I'm used to. He just kept backing up and shooting lightning and whatnot out of his hands. Scared me half to death, but what could I do? I just kept on running him down until I wore him out. The others were running up the stairs, and arrows were flying back and forth across the tower like bees. We finally got past them and right up underneath the little room at the top of the tower."

Rachel was quiet for a moment. The grin that was on her face as she recounted the battle with the serpent men faded. "I was eager to get up through that door, and I beat it down myself to get through. I saw Nevroth and Parika rush past me into the room, and I saw Melkior Maeorgan and Milton Drac in there waiting for us, with that awful yellow crystal glowing on the pedestal. Then Drac pointed toward me and started chanting. I thought he was going to try to scare me away again, like the other priests had done, but instead I felt my whole body freeze up. It was like my mind was suddenly cut off from my body, except I could still feel everything." She swallowed. " I felt a hand on my shoulder, and even though I couldn't turn my head I could tell there was no hand there. I hadn't seen anybody there at the top of the stairs. Then I felt the edge of a knife against my throat." She reached up and grabbed Angus's hand. "I could feel my throat being cut, Angus, and I was completely powerless to stop it. I could see a scaly green hand appearing as the knife moved, but then everything became dark, and so cold. I don't really remember anything after that, until suddenly I woke up bathed in that green light. It was just like waking up from a dream, except... I died, Angus. I know I did. And you're just not supposed to get up and walk around after you're dead."

The blacksmith patted her shoulder and made soothing noises, though in truth Rachel's story unnerved him. The rumors that were going around about Rachel and her friends saving the city from some evil fate were one thing, but hearing the tale from someone who actually lived it was quite another. "I suppose," he thought, "I'll just have to get used to being in the company of heroes."

FIN

* This is the end of our first Freeport campaign. I've already sown the seeds of the next one, though it may be quite a while before it's played. It also looks like little if any of it will actually take place in Freeport, at least at the beginning. Nevroth and Parika will almost certainly be moving on to greener pastures, to be replaced by as yet undecided characters.
* I had to deal with two character deaths during this session, and I am disinclined to kill characters off, especially in less-than-heroic circumstances. Early on, Wind was shot by one of the lighthouse guards, and the crit table declared that it was a lethal heart shot. I'm actually starting to think about retiring the crit tables, since such arbitrary slaughter doesn't really mesh well with my aversion to raising the dead. It just happened that Merrill was standing right beside Wind at that point, and had held his action since there was nobody nearby to heal. I ruled that, since he had an action available (if not strictly readied), that he could pull her back from the brink of death. She still ended up at negative hit points after the healing, but she was at least alive.
* The more difficult death to deal with was in the very last battle. Since the party was hacking through the trap door from below, Drac and his pals had ample time to prepare for their arrival. In addition to Drac's own defensive spells, Gorn was standing next to the trap door, having consumed his potion of invisibility. Early in the round, Drac managed to get Rachel (the natural target, being the group's strongest melee fighter) with a _hold_ spell. At that point, there was nobody near Rachel and Gorn stepped up to do a CDG on her. Now that I actually think back on it, that should have taken him a full round, during which someone could easily have intervened. In the end, I ended up having the Jade Serpent bring her back to life as it destroyed the villains in the room. I don't feel so bad about that fudge now that I realize that I overlooked an important rule during the CDG itself.


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## pogre (Mar 10, 2004)

Peteyfrogboy said:
			
		

> I had to deal with two character deaths during this session, and I am disinclined to kill characters off, especially in less-than-heroic circumstances. Early on, Wind was shot by one of the lighthouse guards, and the crit table declared that it was a lethal heart shot. I'm actually starting to think about retiring the crit tables, since such arbitrary slaughter doesn't really mesh well with my aversion to raising the dead.




That reminds me of my quandry when using low magic and no res in my last couple of campaigns. This time around I decided to jump back into the core rules and juice the PCs up a bit. So far, so fun. Thanks for the story I did enjoy it.


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