Into the Steaming Jungle (part 3)

I've been in numerous bar fights...When you're raised in a bar, well, you've seen, and been involved in your fair share of scuffles. But this one, all I can say is that I was nearly tipping a mug w/ Caiden near the end there. It was a close thing. Very.

After scouting the Sanguine Pit, Selah and I (Brother Lothar of the Empty Jug...but don't use my whole name, that's unlucky. At least it seems to be for me.) determined that this was, indeed, a pit. And the central entertainment was some sort of aquatic display of a man-sized fish trying to eat an equally large clawed creature of some sort. The clawed creature won.

But the truly amazing thing was the owner...A ponderous beast of a thing, she was frightening. And her body guard, a seven foot tall amazon of "odd" demeanor, seemed to exude an aura of danger just by standing passively by. We guessed that this imposing warrior must be 'Belew', the champion of the pit. Well, we were very close to finding out how right our guess was.

Just about that time our comrade Elsbeth comes to collect us. They're having an issue with ants over at House Carteghen, and Durvil has made a deal w/ the proprietor. Get rid of the ants and we get a deal on goods. Seems reasonable yes? Ha!

These aren't ants...They're ANTS! I mean huge, horse-sized, beasts that can lop an arm off w/ their pincers. Not something you casually step on in order to rid yourself of a pesky pest. Our tussle with these ANTS was far from casual as they presented a significant imposition upon our health and well-being. But needless to say, we won through w/ a scratch here and there.

Settling up w/ the proprietor, Novara, (Durvil took care of the details I assume...he's good at that sort of thing.) we head off post haste to take care of this disgusting lord, Lura. (rhymes with lurid you know...which turns out to be a great description of this corpulent pig of a woman.)

We hit the place as a group just as the real entertainment is starting to ratchet up. The real low-lives are coming out of the woodwork w/ the promise of blood and drugs. That tells you a bit about Blood Cove eh?

Grabbing the "drugs" we posed as the mules as we reentered the establishment. Durvil made a deal w/ the bartender to keep the guards out of the coming scuffle and we proceeded to wait for our opening.

After the main entertainment of watching a shark eat a man in a huge tank of water, Lura stands up and announces that the "sniff" has arrived and that the party is now set to get started. The crowd erupts, this appears to be our chance.

Selah steps forward into the open space in order to speak w/ Lura...and the crowd goes silent. Uh oh. Turns out that stepping into the "ring" is akin to throwing down the gauntlet and challenging Belew. With drugs in hand, Selah attempts to negotiate her way out of this jam, but to no avail. Lura's too much of an idiot, and obviously holds the upper hand on her home turf.

With that, Belew steps into the ring and takes a bead on Selah. That won't do. And I'm unwilling to watch poor Selah get squashed like a grape. So I step in and incur the wrath of the amazon. And oh, what wrath it is...She came down on me like a sack of rocks. When she hit me I swore I had been struck by a lightning bolt.

OK thought I, she can hit, but can she grapple!?! Well, yes. Yes she can. And oh how she can grapple. She nearly ripped me limb from limb. It was if I were a tiny child in the hands of an overly aggressive ogre. Not even close to a match.

And this is where I thought that I'd quite possibly be drinking w/ Caiden Caileen soon. But no, Selah was kind enough to bring me back. I guess my time here isn't quite finished. Which is good with me. There's a lot more beer to brew...and drink.

While I was idly occupying Belew's time, the rest of the crew tried desperately to nail down Lura, who consequently had disappeared. Wonderful. But like I said earlier, she wasn't as smart as she'd like to think and started using some type of magic whip on us. Bad idea.

About that time, Elsbeth came up with the idea to break the tank of water in order to give us a bit of time by disrupting the mighty Belew. She and Durvil finally manage to break the thick glass, allowing a wall of water to wash over the crowd.

Not really doing much other than getting us wet, the fight continues with us frantically trying to locate Lura while fending off the frightening Belew with Ix's timely flaming spheres and Durvils selfless feints. (I know, it pains me to hear those two words "Durvil" and "selfless" in the same sentence as well...)

Our big break came when Selah shook the remaining sniff into the air. The cloud of drugs covered Lura for a brief moment, allowing me to knock her to the ground.

While Selah fought off the effects of the drugs, the rest of the group took care of Lura, and with that, "POP!", Belew disappeared. Soaking wet, nearly dead, we realized that we had WON!

The bartender took immediate advantage of the situation and called for a free round on the house. The crowd erupted in a jovial, if a bit unbelieving, celebration.

And so ends our bar fight, to end all bar fights.

Lothar of the Empty Jug

Lothar was born in the town of Restov...or at least he's pretty sure he was. In truth, he never really knew his parents. Raised by his older brother from infancy, until he disappeared when Lothar was somewhere around 8 years old, his only family has been the street rats and orphans common in nearly every dark corner of every town and city.

Lothar learned early on that running away was much more prudent than getting into a fight (Reactionary trait)...besides he was never any good at fighting with weapons. He only had them taken away and used against him. So it was best to just high-tail it. His size, being on the rather small end of things, was a detriment when it came to going toe to toe. But he found it rather handy when squeezing through a hole in his attempt to escape a group of thugs.

The streets breed quickness of hand and eye as well, which means that Lothar grew nimble from a young age. And he utilized this to his advantage in his too-oft dealings with his competitors. Resources being what they were, he often had to either beg of forage for food. For some reason, theft never suited him. He just couldn't seem to get used to the way it made him feel. His brother had no such compunctions, and this is what likely kept Lothar alive for the first 8 years of his life.

It was a fire that changed things. One early winter morning Lothar awoke to stinging smoke that swirled about the small hovel that he and his brother had built out of scavenged boxes and a castaway piece of sail cloth. It might have been the small candles that they'd been using to keep the place warm. Or maybe it was set on purpose by some of the more aggressive competitors in the area. Who knows. All Lothar can remember of that fateful morning was waking up coughing with half the place in flames. His brother was nowhere to be seen.

Weeks of futile searching led to Lothar believing that his brother must have certainly fallen to ill intent. And to this day, he still wonders what happened to him.

One evening Lothar, starving and cold, stumbled across a brown stoppered bottle in an alley behind a rather shabby bordello. He scooped it up, scrambled for a safe place in which he might investigate it w/out unwanted attention, and then unstoppered it. Inside he found a warming amber liquid. He sipped it and it made him cough, but it also made his belly warm. (Later he was to find that this was the very rare form of alcohol called Rum...which became his favored drink of choice when he could find it.)

An hour, and one empty rum bottle later and Lothar was out in the street singing. While he was most certainly drunk as a skunk, he was also much more clear headed than he ever had the right to be. And to top that off, he found that a strange energy surged through him. An energy that made him do things he never even considered.

A slip of the tongue to the wrong person and he was being chased through the streets by the town guard. Easily avoiding them he slipped to the ground, exhausted...his breath coming in ragged, cloudy huffs on the cold evening air. He closed his eyes to rest only for a second.

And opened them to find wonder of wonders. He was in a small stone room surrounded by wooden barrels. The room was kept warm by a series of small braziers spaced evenly around the perimeter and he was covered by a blanket! He sat up quickly only to be hit in the center of the forehead by a very sharp brick. 'Crack'! and down he went....Eyes spinning and stomach churning he looked around for the assailant. For he saw nothing to have caused such a nasty wound.

Reaching up he was sure his hand would be drawn back covered by blood, but no! OK, so what was the cause of this horrid feeling? Why did he feel so confoundedly bad? He groaned...and in answer he heard a shuffling from one of the dark corners of the room. "Ya got the head for the drink wee one, but ya aint yet got the stomach eh?" Said a deep voice that proceeded an enormous bear of a man.

Dressed in the brown cassock of an order of monks or holy men, he came forward slowly with a tankard in one hand and a loaf of bread in the other. "Here now. Take a sip-o-this and a wee bite of this hear heavenly loaf and I'll near guarantee that you feel much better."

Lothar trusted this man. He couldn't really say why, for he rarely trusted anyone besides himself. But there seemed to be some sort of aura about him that just radiated "rightness". So he nodded slowly and took a sip of the strange, pungent liquid and a larger bite of the bread. And sure enough, his head and stomach cleared up nearly immediately. This most certainly was magic of a most potent kind. And he was eager to see / try more of it!

This was the start of a wonderful relationship between Lothar and the monks of the House of Cayden Cailean.

Years of living amongst the monks, learning their ways and growing from the scrawny child to a stout (yet still short) individual able to pick up and haul full half barrels of ale in his arms, Lothar naturally fell in with what he considered his "family" at House Cayden Cailean. Which in truth was a brew pub of the highest quality.

There was only one problem, for some reason, the "magic" just never came. He was tutored and lectured day and night. But to no avail. He just didn't have the natural predilection for spells. It just wasn't in his blood. So he labored as a brewer and helper in the House for years, never believing that he was meant for more than that simple life. Drinking and brewing were his life. (Fortified Drinker trait)

This time though it wasn't a disaster that changed his life but rather the arrival of a strange individual. One evening a traveling monk came to stay with the brothers. A follower of Cayden Cailean, this brother was not a brewer, which was rather strange. But he could most certainly drink with the best of them...And when he did, strange things happened. He was somehow empowered with a strange energy and could do the most amazing things.

Lothar recognized the "energy" immediately, for he felt a small part of that every time that he drank as well. But he assumed that it was something that all brothers experienced. He was soon to learn though that this was not true at all. What happened to him was rare in the extreme amongst his brethren. In turn, the visiting monk recognized a brother in Lothar and took him under his wing, making Restov his new home.

A few years pass while Lothar was being trained by the traveler in the martial arts. A type of art / combat that was blessed by the god Cayden Caileen: The art of the Drunken Master. This is when he finally earned his honorific of "Brother Lothar of the empty jug". And this is also when his master said goodbye. It was time for him to continue his journey, but he told Brother Lothar that there were more of his kind out there. And most nearly all of them were searching for a school where they could learn the arts he'd been teaching for years.

So the master left Brother Lothar with only one directive. Find a place to open a school for their art. Dedicated to Cayden Cailean but that also teaches the rare form of martial arts known also as 'Drunken Boxing'.

Today, after a full year of trying, and failing to open a school here in Restov, Brother Lothar is now certain that his destiny demands that he head south, to carve a school out of the chaos of the wild. And lo an behold, an opportunity has arisen. As if foreordained by Cayden Caileen himself!

Selah

Around 18 years ago, there was a band of traveling performers calling themselves “The Joyful Jesters.” They claimed to entertain everyone as though they were kings. They were Varisian Gypsies, a tribe known as “Quimen”. Their banner was known throughout the land: two men in jester hats, holding hands. The Quimen believed in a sacred tradition passed on for generations within their tribe. This was the belief that all people were equal, regardless of birth or wealth. All were their brothers and sisters, all were connected. What affected one, affected all. They were pacifist, avoiding violence at all costs. Because of this belief, generation after generation had enhanced their skills of negotiation, diplomacy, communication – to the point where it was rumored the Quimen had special powers over others to make them do what they desired. No one feared them, and for the most part, no one harmed them.

On this particular day, 18 years ago, the Joyful Jesters camped outside a small city and were on their third and final day of performing for the residence of the city. The performance had gone well and the townsmen had been generous with their purses. The crowd had dispersed and dusk had arrived. The Joyful Jesters were celebrating around the campfire and discussing where to head next. It was at this time, 18 years go, that a baby’s cry was heard. The band silenced, and all quickly glanced at their children. None were crying. Those not attending children lit torches from the campfire and began searching the camp. The crying stopped, and one of the members emerged from a tent, carrying a girl of 2 years in their arms. Strangely, no one remembers who found her. Only that she was found. She was well dressed and had a small bag with her. Inside were warm clothes and a blanket. Nothing else.

The Quimen, being who they are, did not need to discuss what to do. It was obvious the child had been abandoned. And it was obvious that she would be taken in by the tribe to be raised as one of their own. Although all tribe members participated in the raising of all the children, a guardian needed to be designated. They sat the child down in the center and began discussing who would be best suited for the job. The child slowly looked around the tribe, member by member, face by face, until she saw Bry. She walked up to him, jumped into his lap, and fell asleep. She had made the decision for herself.

The tribe would not have chosen Bry as a guardian. Bry had never chosen a partner, never coddled or played with the children. Bry was very focused on his mentorship with the tribe’s medicine woman, Cali . The tribe thought it strange that a man wanted to learn the healing arts, especially one so talented in performance as Bry. But he had claimed his place in the tribe, and the tribe respected it. Selah had claimed him as her guardian, and the tribe respected it. It was he who named her Selah after a medicine woman two generations ago in the tribe.

Selah and Bry flourished together. Bry was an outstanding caretaker, and Selah, as it turned out, was an excellent student. As she aged, she learned the tribe’s ways and she asked more and more questions of Bry, and learned more and more about healing. She had a talent for it. She seemed able to sense what was wrong with people, what herbs were needed, even discovered new remedies. Furthermore, she seemed to have the gift of touch, which was celebrated by the tribe.

However, not everything was wonderful about Selah. Within the first week of Selah’s arrival, it was noticed that she was visited by spirits. There was no other explanation for it. She would set things down and they would move by themselves feet away. If she dropped something, or even threw something, the object’s destination was unexpected, even unpredictable. Furthermore, Selah seemed to know things, even at an early age. One incident happened when Selah was nine. She approached Bry and said, “Brother Bry, there will be lightning tonight. The camp should move.” Bry thought this odd, as the weather did not seem so, and told her all would be well. Selah then approached Jonah, who was one of the leaders of the tribe. “Brother Jonah, there will be lightning tonight. The camp should move.” Jonah, too, did not think the weather as such, and told her all would be well. Selah then approached the medicine woman, Cali . “Mother Cali, there will be lightning tonight. The camp should move.” Cali stopped, smelled the air and listened to her bones. Yes, she had been sore a bit more today than usual. Cali approached Jonah, “Selah has told you of the lightning?” Jonah nodded. “Then it won’t hurt the camp to move before nightfall. Where should we move to, child?” Selah said, “The cave.” Selah showed Jonah a cave a mile from their camp. It had enough room for the tribe and a flat area outside for the horses. Lightning or not, Jonah thought it a wonderful place to camp and the tribe moved. That night, lightning struck the old camp site. They heard the horrible crack with no warning from inside the cave. Yes, Selah was touched as well as having the touch. And the tribe celebrated her as well as being a bit awkward around her (as one would with a member who was disabled) but would never think of shunning her as it was against the tribe tradition. She never hurt anyone, as long as she did not handle the hunting gear. (Dal’s scar is proof of that.)

So Selah grew up with the Joyful Jesters, learning their ways. She learned to sing and dance and tell stories at the performances. She learned the Quimen beliefs and practiced them. She learned the art of healing from Bry and Cali . And, she dreamed. She had a recurring dream of an untamed land where strange creatures lived; where bandits roamed and men killed each other for goods. Then one night, the dream changed, and five people appeared in her dream; four men and one woman. They were traveling into this untamed land with a purpose. All were rough around the edges and had not quite found their place in the world. She could see who each one would become, and why they needed to go to the untamed lands. Then she saw herself with them, engulfing them with a bubble of healing energy and using her Quimen ways to see them safely through the untamed lands.

Selah woke and told Bry of her dream. Bry looked at her with shock, then sadness. He told her of a notice he had seen posted in a tavern in the town they had just left. It spoke of a call throughout the lands for people willing to go to the Stolen Lands to explore the area for the Sword Lords. All willing were to meet in Restov by the next full moon. Bry went with Selah to Jonah and explained the situation. Jonah said they were four days from Restov and could easily make it there by the full moon. With the help of her tribe, Selah travel to Restov. They arrived three days before the full moon. Selah spent those three days performing with her family for the townspeople of Restov. Selah arranged to have a tavern in Restov receive letters for her tribe. She told them every time they stopped at Restov, to check with this Tavern for letters and that they could leave letters for her there. She would have them forwarded to her. On the day of the full moon, the tribe gave Selah travel gear, a healing kit full of herbs and other remedies, and a purse of money made during the last three days. One by one they said goodbye to their sister, Selah.

And with that, Selah left the Joyful Jesters of the Quimen tribe to follow her destiny.

Elsbeth

Elsbeth was born in the River Kingdoms, the product of a Pirate Queen human mother and Mercenary elven father. Upon her mother’s death, Elsbeth
decided to seek out her father far to the north. She headed to Winterbreak, but found that her meager skills were insufficient to live on, and she
soon ran out of money. Destitute, she petitioned to the local church of Calistria to provide for her and soon found herself a Sacred Prostitute of
Calistria. After a few years she met a young inquisitor named William. He was quite taken with young Elsbeth, both by her charms and the divine power
he sensed within her. He decided he would have her join him on his missions as his apprentice, and soon Elsbeth found herself traveling throughout
Brevoy at William’s side. Time passed, and somewhere between exposing traitors and destroying enemies of the faith, she and William became lovers and
finally married (This joyous event took place three months ago).

Two months ago they entered Restov, chasing after a small group of cultists worshipping Asmodeus; the cultists had been desecrating shrines and
temples of various deities in the region, and their trail led to Restov. The couple was accompanied by Atif, a priest of Erastil, who joined them
after his shrine had been attacked and burned to the ground. William was uneasy, something about Atif seemed out of place, but the priest seemed
genuine enough in his desire to see the cultists punished, so William let it go for the time being. After a few hours seeking information within the
city, William was able to track the cultists to a small farm just outside of town.

As the small group headed into the cellar, they could hear the sounds of chanting coming from below. Suddenly Atif proved Williams’ suspicions true,
as he stabbed William in the back with a poisoned blade. The cultists had prepared an ambush, and now poured forth to attack. Elsbeth was cut off
from William in the battle, and as she tried to reach his side, was stabbed multiple times. Elsbeth realized that she would not reach him in time,
and she could not defeat these cultists alone. So she did the only thing possible: she ran. As she took one last look back, she saw through her tears
as Williams’ head was cleaved from his body by Atif.

Elsbeth’s journey back to town was a hazy, pain-filled memory, but somehow she managed it and finally collapsed in front of an apothecary’s shop.
When she woke three days later, the apothecary told her that she had lost a great deal of blood and should have died, yet miraculously she survived.
But then she was told that while she survived the vicious injuries inflicted upon her, her child had not. Elsbeth was stunned at this news, since she
hadn’t even realized that she was with child. Not only had they taken her husband from her, but her unborn child as well.

Elsbeth believed that she had been blessed by Calistria to survive her injuries so that she could wreak terrible vengeance on those that had taken
everything she cared about from her. After she recovered enough from her wounds, she tracked down those cultists foolish enough to reveal themselves
to her, and killed them slowly and brutally, hoping to flush out the one true target of her hatred, Atif.

Two weeks ago she heard a rumor that a priest of Erastil matching Atif’s description had traveled to the Stolen Lands as a “missionary”. Elsbeth did
all she could to be part of the next group of explorers heading down to that area, determined that if she has to, she will explore the entire area by
herself to find Atif. And the gods help anyone that gets in her way.

Ixilplith

Ixilplith is a bastard. Born to an innkeeper’s daughter, he never knew his father. He was raised well by his mother and grandparents but, as he grew
older, whenever he asked about his father he was only met with silence. He grew up around the inn and learned how to serve and cook. He was a quiet
and polite boy who loved to spend his free time wandering the nearby woods.

As Ixilplith grew, he developed an interest in learning to read. His grandfather knew basic literacy due to his need to place and received orders for
the inn and to keep the books. Ixilplith learned fast. One day Tyrone, an older man who was a regular at the inn, offered to loan him a book. It
turned out Tyrone had a great many books and Ixilplith was always eager for the next. He spent many an hour sitting in the sun out in some glade
reading and enjoying the cool afternoon breeze.

One day Tyrone gave him a special book. It was a book containing minor cantrips of the type used by hedge mages and town healers. Ixilplith was
fascinated and spent days roaming the countryside learning to identify, name and collect many of the local herbs, plants, and other items called for
to cast these spells. This also inevitably led to many mishaps or small explosions in the inn kitchen, until Ixilplith was finally forbidden from
performing any further extracurricular activities in the kitchen and had to learn to perform his experiments over a campfire out of doors.

His family was tolerant of his odd little trials and errors, as he performed his chores and duties diligently and because he seemed to have a natural
knack for learning these things. They also occasionally came in useful. Then one day a mysterious stranger appeared in town. He came to the inn and
stayed for a week. Everyone in the town avoided man except for old man Tyrone, who met with him every night at the inn and shared private
conversation with him by the fire. At the end of this week, the man approached the family. He was a member of a guild of mages from the city of
Skywatch and he wanted to bring Ixilplith back with him to become an initiate of his guild. When the family said they could not afford such a thing,
the man assured them that it was not an issue. The family was loathe to give up Ixilplith, but knowing how great an opportunity this was they could
not say no. So it was that Ixilplith found himself packed and gone the next morning.

Ixilplith spent the next few years studying at the guild. His knowledge of serving and cooking served him well in earning his keep, though some of
the other initiates, who had obviously come from richer families, mocked him occasionally for having this knowledge. He had new forests to explore
and new plants and items to learn the names of. Ixilplith was happy and regularly wrote to his family. He found he had a particular predilection for
learning air and wind related spells and upon his graduation from initiate to guild member he was given the name Windrunner. He decided he would
become a wind elementalist mage. Soon after his graduation, he was called before the guild elders. The guild had historically had good relations with
a group of rulers known as the Sword Lords who were attempting to explore and colonize an area known as the Stolen Lands. In order to maintain good
relations with the Sword Lords they had agreed to send a young mage to be part of one of the groups tasked with this exploration. Due to Ixilpliths
love of the outdoors and air elementalist focus, they thought he was the ideal candidate to fulfill this obligation. They would expect regular
reports from him, especially noting any contact with or evidence of the Fae in the area. Ixilplith embraced this opportunity to learn, adventure, and
prove his abilities to his guild.

Stage Dressing (Into the Steaming Jungles)

This is an earlier addition...sorry for it being out of order.

“First time in Bloodcove, eh?” the vendor called as the group made their way past without pausing to sample the wares being shown.

“Why do they all keep saying that?” Durvil asked.

Jessup glanced up at him incredulously, then shared a look with Elsbeth. “Is he serious?”

“Quite,” Elsbeth replied.

Dodging their way through the narrow boardwalks of Bloodcove, the group was doing its best to appear as though it belonged amongst the scoundrels, loud mouthed street vendors and thugs that thronged the public walks. Considering Durvil’s swagger, Ixilplith’s wide-eyed studying of everything around him, Lothar’s near-drunken happy hum, and Selah’s obvious concern for anyone coming near her, the challenge was nearly insurmountable.

Everywhere around them, huge banyan trees rose out of the murky red waters, obscuring the sky with a canopy of leaves. Built among the massive roots and trunks were the buildings of the city; often ramshackle, most of them constructed of wood, and always bustling with trade. Beyond the cover the banyans provided, the heat of the jungle was oppressive. Here, it was dampened to a point that was almost comfortable, and the city thrived on constant commerce as a result. Everyone, it seemed, had something to sell. If they weren’t actively soliciting customers, they were moving goods from one point to another within the city. If that short movement wasn’t their activity, it was the more serious business of bringing lost artifacts and goods out of the jungle and preparing them for transport across the sea. Nowhere did anyone stand idle. Only the Snakes seemed to have anything to do besides buy and sell.

Those groups all seemed involved in the wider commerce of taking advantage of the locals. They operated in gangs, always with a clear leader. That one would be leaning in close to the object of his interest, baring his teeth in what could only be called a grin, all while his thugs pocketed the things that took their fancy. Never did anyone question their right to do so, and often the group would be sent on their way with praises for the protection they offered and well wishes for their health. Interestingly, petty thievery was nonexistent, and many people went about unarmed, seemingly little concerned for their safety.

Durvil huffed loudly. “It seems as though the nobility has been completely leeched from everyone in this city. I wonder that anyone even has direction, here.”

“Aye, sir,” Jessup agreed. “Why, it often amazes all of us that we know which foot to put in front of which when we walk.” He adroitly dodged the cuff that Durvil sent his way, quickening his pace to put a few steps between them. Pointing, he distracted Durvil from further attempts with an exclamation, “The guild house is ahead, sir. Everyone we’ve asked agrees that Scevola spends all his time there while he’s in Bloodcove. No one says they’ve seen him at the caravanserai in over a month, so this is where he should be.”

Across the open square a small building huddled next to the bowl of a banyan. A few windows paned with dirty glass flanked the building’s entrance, a wide door that stood open to the square invitingly.

Stage Dressing (Into the Steaming Jungles)

The ruckus coming from between the roots of the massive banyan tree became a full cacophony as the group entered the shadows of the tree’s canopy of branches and leaves. Light and noise spilled out the windows of the Sanguine Pit, and the main door stood open to let the stream of people entering and exiting pass without impedance. Three huge thugs stood a few feet away from the entrance, watching people carefully, whether they were coming or going. When one man stumbled drunkenly and tripped up two people following him one of the thugs merely grabbed the man and, without a word, tossed him into the blood red waters of the Vanji River. His panicked shrieks as he swam toward a ladder made the witnesses to the act laugh uproariously.

“Apparently they don’t take kindly to drunkenness,” Selah noted, glancing at Brother Lothar nervously.

“Nah,” Jessup intoned dismissively. “They threw him in the river because he was trying to pick the pocket of the snake that was behind him. What they don’t take kindly to is one of their own being robbed.”

“Well, then,” Lothar said with a smile, “we shall make sure to not rob any of the locals. Right, lad?”

Jessup frowned slightly and eyed the monk carefully. Coming to a quick decision, he nodded his agreement rather than deny Lothar’s insight. Turning back to the Sanguine Pit, he pointed out how the building was built into the bowl of the tree, in and amongst its roots. “I checked around the entire place. That door they’re guarding is the only way in, unless you want to try a window. And every window is built over the water. The only loose bit of security I can see is that they’re not bothering to shake anyone down who goes in. Word is you can take any weapons you want into the Pit, so long as you know how to use them if you draw them.”

“Rather an ominous statement,” Selah said. Looking from the child to the weaponless Lothar and then to her own simple staff, she arched an eyebrow. “Will we stand out to them, then?”

Lothar’s smile at the irony nearly split his face. “Should we go find out?”

---

Durvil looked over the crowd of people in front of House Cartahegn incredulously. Surrounding the sprawling, two-story trading post was a mass of citizens and merchants, alike. Some wore worried expressions and wrung their hands, while others shouted angrily at a well dressed young woman by the entrance.

“As I said,” shouted the Cartahegn spokesperson from atop a wooden crate, “all Cartahegn resources are needed to deal with this emergency with our sugarpress, and our storefront is closed for the remainder of the day or until management resolves the situation. We apologize for the inconvenience, but for now please return to your homes and places of business. You will know as soon as we do that we are open, again. I promise.”

As she climbed down off the crate, most of the grumbling mob began to disperse.

“Ants.”

Durvil spun toward Elsbeth, who had ghosted up to his side. “What?” he asked, glancing at Ixilplith. The mage merely shrugged, as if to say, “I don’t watch where she goes, either.”

“They have an ant problem,” Elsbeth said more directly. “That’s what the people in the crowd said. Makes sense, I suppose, seeing as they have a sugarpress.”

Durvil huffed a frustrated breath, searching the crowd of people for the young woman who had climbed off the crate. “Everyone in this city seems to have a problem,” he said to no one in particular. “Why should this place be any different?” Spotting the spokesman, he started angling through the citizens toward her. “At least this problem I can just step on,” he grumbled. “Let’s see what she has to say about my cousin’s supplies.”

Into the Steaming Jungle (part 2)

Sometimes you get what you hope for...and sometimes it's not what you had hoped for. Heh.

We had hoped to find Romando when we visited the Horse's Whistle, and sure enough, we found him. Drunk. And in debt.

Alonzo (a pirate by all respects) and his three toughs were busy collecting his debt from Romando when we arrived and this is where the fun began. Cajoling, bluffing, threatening, it all led to...Bet you think I'm going to say "a fight", right? Well, if you consider getting entangled by a mass of web a fight, then sure, it was a fight. But really, we didn't do a whole lot. Ix was the champion of the day, again. Sorry Durvil.

Turns out that Romando had gambled away his string of 20 horses while drinking like a fish. Here's a tip from a professional, unless you know what you're doing, don't drink when there's something to lose. Because guess what? You'll lose. And Romando was more than drunk, he was comatose. Granted, he was still blubbering away about whatever crossed his mind...but he had checked out.

Horst, the owner, turned out to be happy that our little confrontation didn't level his "fine" establishment. And in fact, if you think about it, we were about as benevolent as could be to Alonzo and his scurvy crew. I will admit, he DID win the horses fair and square, so we paid him, 150 gold and now we're the proud owners of a some horse flesh. And you can thank Selah for that I suppose.

Translating this to Romando was neigh impossible of course. So we took him upstairs and put him to bed, while a few of the others stayed downstairs and bought the remaining patrons drinks, in way of apologizing for the disturbance. But after a bit, we were able to get a wee bit of useful information from the drunken lout. Mainly the location of Senzer Rul Kep.

Waiting for the next day, we took off en masse for Senzer's establishment at first light and entered the tiny establishment hoping to speak to the proprietor. All we were looking for was information on what was sent to Durvil's cousin on Azlant Ridge...and maybe to obtain a bit of the same stuff ourselves. We WERE heading into the deepest, darkest portion of the jungle after all, and as everybody knows, it's just not safe.

But it turns out that we weren't alone in the shop. Three gentlemen were also perusing the wares as we spoke w/ Senzer. And his silently mouthing "Help Me" tipped us off. These weren't gentlemen after all! They were villains, or better known as "Snakes", members of the Asp Consortium. I think I've mentioned them previously...quite nasty individuals actually.

Well we couldn't very well leave the poor man w/ these unsavory sorts. We put them to sleep and dealt with them summarily. Trying to get rid of the bodies was a little difficult but Durvil's quick thinking saved the day. He heisted that obnoxious fruit vendor's cart! Huzzah! And off we went. Our cargo consisted of three bodies.

Ah but I get ahead of myself. Turns out that Senzer has given up the potion business and has gone into drugs. Yes, that's right. But fear not, he has done it for all the right reasons. If there is such a thing. See, his son Rold is sick, and a despicable drug lord name of Lura has been ransoming the boy's continued health for Senzer's agreement to produce drugs. Yes, she's got the cure and is using it as blackmail. Horrid stuff and quite worth a visit from someone armed with intent...to kill. Forgive me Selah, but this kind of thing fires my blood and needs to be dealt with in the harshest terms available.

And I just happen to know someone who's more than adequately trained for such endeavors, one Elsbeth.

A hive of villainy and scum known as the Sanguine Pit is where Lura headquarters out of, so half of us head there (actually just Elsbeth and I) to look for any glaring holes in security. While the rest head to House Cartehgn.

Segue...

Into the Steaming Jungles

The jungles of Chult and Amedio have nothing on the sweltering, fetid, jade-tinted mass that threatens to consume Bloodcove. Oppressive heat, mind-withering humidity and creepy crawlies that seem to be nearly everywhere. Almost as prevalent as the hawkers and vendors that line the thoroughfares and byways of the city built in the banyans. And the noise...Apparently it takes a lot of noise to move the wheels of commerce.

The reason for being here is above reproach; A family member in need might seem trivial, but when you're talking about the Otterson family, well, loyalty runs deep. Or so "they" say. It might be that, or the fact that this archeological find, in the deep jungle, has the potential to bring the shine back to the slightly tarnished family name. Yes, that might be the reason. All it takes is finding the right people and getting a bit of guidance in a place that's as dangerous as a pit of vipers. Sounds like a cinch.


Durvil's sister(?) is in the uplands of the NW Garundi coast and is need of some rescuing apparently. Someone, or something, named Charua-Ka (Silverback King) has been harrying her and she's unable to get out. And of course this "find" of hers seems to be quite important to Durvil and his family, we think.

With only three names to go on, House Cartehegn (a trading cartel), Romando Scevola, a caravan driver, and Rul Kep, a potions dealer, we don't have much of a lead. It's enough we hope. But we've got to be careful, this place is dangerous, and not because of the strange jungle wild-life that clings to the bottom of the boardwalks, or in the tops of trees...No, the Aspis Consortium is the alpha predator here.

A gang by any other measure, this group of thugs boldly walks about the market places and takes what they want through force of arms. Nobody resists of course, to do so would mean death. And I'll have to admit, even though they're a frightening bunch, the crime rate seems to be fairly low. Or maybe that's the thin veneer of civility.

Durvil took matters well into hand when we arrived and procured a street urchin's services. One young entrepreneur, name of Jessup, was our guide in this maze of chaos and hidden danger.

We decided to bunk up at the "hurling man" or better known as Gordson's Bender, while our horses were being taken care of by a friend of Jessup's. And in only a day and a half we've found Romando's guild, called the Horse's Whistle, as well as where House Cartehegn is located as well. The missing piece of course is the potion's dealer, Rul Kep.

Our mission continues...I think that soon we will be hiking into this stinking jungle on our way to find Durvil's relative-in-need. I wonder if his family name is actually worth the effort?

More soon.