The roar of the battle above was loud enough to filter down into the still air of the crypt. Standing silently, the two massive iron sentinels peered impassively at the stairs that led outside. Small dust motes spilled down a hallway that led deeper into the cliff, stirred up by another battle, this one more quiet and containing the desperate quality that only a fight with ravenous undead could bring about.
When the last ghoul fell to his blade, Durvil stepped forward and crouched at the entrance to the next room, peering into the gloom. Nothing else moved. Behind him, Selah saw to each of the party, being sure that they were unharmed and weren’t touched by the disease the undead carried. Ix, of course, was peering at the wall markings he had been meaning to look at before being so rudely interrupted.
“How long have they been down here?” Durvil asked, more to break the silence than anything else. Hearing the battle above, he wanted nothing more than to finish this and get back to his sister’s side. But Selah needed a little time to do her work, and rushing alone into the darkness was not a wise tactic.
“Judging by the look of this place,” Ixilplith replied, running his fingers along the runes, “about 6,000 years.” Stopping on one of the patterns, he cocked his head to one side, as if recalling something. “This looks similar to the mark the Taldan military uses to denote their watch posts. It’s the only thing I recognize, though.”
“Six thousand years?” Lothar asked. “That’s a long time to be on watch.”
“It would explain why they were so mindless,” Selah suggested. “Usually the undead are more cunning than these were. Ghouls are created when the living die from starvation. If they then went without…food…for that long, even ghouls would succumb to their own variety of insanity.”
“There are some traces of transmutation magic left in this alcove,” Ix said. Tracing it along the wall and onto the floor, he frowned, rubbing his fingers through the dust. “Some sort of powdered gemstone. Emerald?” Looking more closely, his eyebrows rose. “And ruby. Along with something else. This was an incredibly powerful spell.”
“Study later, Ix,” Durvil interrupted. “Right now we have to figure out what’s down here.” He grinned. “Destiny awaits.”
As if prompted, an earth shattering roar sounded from the surface, echoing through the chambers. All around the group, the runes on the walls began to glow with a faint, ghostly light.
Friday, April 29, 2011
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Into the Steaming Jungle (part 5)
I'm not sure how much I like the jungle...
I mean, there are a LOT of dangerous things out here. Sure, there are dangerous things everywhere, but here you don't see them until they're nearly on top of you. Oh, and the insects? Let me tell you about the insects. Imagine the abyss...and being trapped there, naked. Without a weapon. Now add intense heat and horrible teeny tiny little demons that you can't actually see. They bite you..all the time. And there's no getting away from them. That's what the insects are like. Seriously.
Luckily for me I'm a follower of Caiden Caileen and he's provided us w/ a natural anesthesia: Beer and Wine! But that's pretty much an answer for nearly any problem I've come across. Nearly. Not all.
There we were, being led through the jungles by Raimondo. At the base of the cliffs he stops us and prepares us for the climb. And this is when our witch captive decides to break free. Sigh. We of course have two choices, let her go free and starve, and get eaten alive out here in this endless green abyss. Or go after her and humanely save her. Sure. We're altruistic like that.
After her we go...And right into an ambush. That's what you get for trying to be humane. No more of that. Seems the Aspis had caught up to us after all. They had planned this well, and the witch led us right into the middle of it. But, we were up to the task and took the fight to the Consortium toadies. Back and forth through the underbrush and along the vine festooned paths we struggle with the villains. It was a very close thing...and to be truthful, I'm not sure who was going to win.
Luckily for us, no one had to stick around to find out. Our little soiree was interrupted by the Anghazani. What, you might ask, are the Anghazani? Well, to put it bluntly, they're a highly evolved ape-like creature that's capable of arming themselves w/ weapons, and wearing armor. They're still primitive, but they're dangerous in the extreme.
Seeing that the situation was suddenly more than we could handle, we skedaddled. And on the way out we warned the captain of the Aspis. He too decided that it was time to vacate the premises immediately. We had an advantage, Raimondo had avoided the fight and had been driving our caravan up the cliff this entire time. So we quickly caught up and made the gates of the "fort" much before the Aspis Consortium.
Here's a moral dilemma for you: Let our enemies in, or turn them away, to be horribly dismembered by hundreds of angry ape creatures? What would they do? Right, we'll do the opposite. That's exactly what we did. Opened the gates and let them in.
Inside we find what's left of Durvil sister's forces. Not much. They're basically scarecrows manning walls. It has been more than three months since their last supply shipment. What on Golarion have they been eating? Honestly, I shudder to imagine.
So after a quick agreement by the captain of the Aspis we man the walls. And hear an enormously loud, bestial scream come from beyond the plateau. Ruthazec! The king of gorillas... I look around at the meager walls and the even more meager defenders and again...I shudder. We might be in trouble. But the defenders honestly don't look all that worried. And the piles of ape bodies outside stand grim testament to their ability to defend these walls. OK, I'm a bit more mollified.
Durvil's sister, Destiny, meets us and more importantly greets Durvil in a very frosty manner. Ah the politics of wealth. I'll never understand. Which is fine by me. Seems there was some type of misunderstanding and after a quick explanation by Durvil, Destiny is a little more reasonable. She shows us around the dig site and tells us that if she can get through the set of doors in the cliff-side, she'd be wealthy beyond belief. If.
And that's when she asked Durvil for the key. Oh yes....they key. Apparently their father knew that the key was a very special thing, and ended up incorporating it in the hilt of their family's long sword. Clever, if you ask me. When Durvil presented the key, Destiny's eyes quite literally lit up.
We waited the night, since it was late in the afternoon when we arrived anyway. Each of us selecting a spot w/in the camp that we thought was as secure as it could be; considering that the Aspis consortium was inside, while the Anghazani were beating their chests and making the relics inside the dig site glow in all sorts of strange ways. Not sure how or why that was occurring, but I AM sure that Ix was quite perplexed.
After a long night of studying the existing documents, Destiny had figured out how the key opened the door. The ape people hadn't let up all night, which might make you think that we didn't get any sleep, but it's not true. Even leaning up against the door all night long, I felt rested and ready to proceed.
It didn't take long for Destiny to figure things out and placing the key onto the door in just the correct way, the strange portal opened. To reveal a large room in which two massive shapes loomed in the shadows beyond. It was exactly at this time that the Anghazani decided to attack. An ill omen? Time will tell, I'm sure.
Accompanied by the frenzied screaming of the ape people and the hustle and shouts of the defenders, we slowly descended into the darkness of the newly revealed chamber. The shapes turned out to be large metal statues of some type. According to Ix though these statues at one time had the gift of movement. A scary thing indeed. I for one would not fancy being trapped by one, no less two. of these enormous iron creatures!
Selah, ever observant, noticed that this place looked more like a museum of types than anything else. After a short exploration of the Golems, for that's what Ix had called the iron statues, and their room, we proceeded down the hall. Only to run smack into the undead!
These six creatures were frantic and as chaotic as I've ever seen. They had not a whit of intelligent motive behind their actions, attacking solely because it was in their nature. Mindless frenzy is what it was. And we quickly put it down.
With the sound of battle outside as our companion we moved further into the ancient edifice.
To be continued...
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Stage Dressing (Into the Steaming Jungles)
“We are still being followed.” Scevola pointed back along the ridge where the river disappeared into the canopy of trees below them. A flight of white birds had just exploded up out of those same trees, and monkeys were chattering fiercely in an effort to drive an intruder from their territory. Far less activity had been raised a few hours before when their own caravan had passed through that area. Whatever force was moving through there now must be large, indeed.
Xaenja barked out a harsh laugh. She was tied in place on the driving seat next to Scevola, and glared bitterly at the group around her. “I am far from the only Consortium vulture looking to pick at your bones. I was simply not foolish enough to be duped by your ruse.”
“Hush, witch,” Elsbeth muttered, “or I shall leave your carcass to distract them with.”
“Enough,” Scevola cut in. “They are only four hours behind us, and they have the advantage of not being slowed by wagons loaded down with goods. Out here you obey my rules, and I say ride! Ride as though your lives depend on it, and be happy with the four hours sleep you got the last few nights. Tonight you will get less!” He snapped his reins and whistled shrilly, and his two horse team leaped into motion.
The pace Raimondo Scevola had set from the beginning was one that kept people from doing anything other than concentrating on following him. Now he seemed to drive his team to an even greater speed, one that seemed near suicidal, considering the state of the trail they were following. The two other carts and pack horses that made up the caravan matched him, and the adventurers had no option but to fall in line behind. They were five days northwest of Bloodcove, days of dusty, dirty running and riding as the scoundrel whipped his horses and wagon drivers to go ever faster and deeper into the night. To his credit, the scoundrel seemed a changed man within the vastness of the jungle. Gone was the drunkenness and sniveling, replaced instead by a hard edge that brooked no argument and accepted no excuse. The only time he slowed the pace was to check the horses and be sure that they were still capable of maintaining the push to Azlant Ridge. He was always the last to bed down, and always the first to rise.
Late the next morning, coming out of the forest canopy atop another in a long series of rises that marched their way into the Terwa Uplands, Scevola paused again. Ahead, the most imposing ridge yet cut above the trees, a sheer cliff draped with green and dripping with the runoff of hundreds of tiny rivulets. The valley between echoed with the calls of birds, animals and insects. Only the ever present chatter of monkeys that seemed to permeate every other part of the jungle was missing, a decidedly odd counterpoint to what the group was used to. As Scevola checked over each of his horses, he periodically glanced back the way they had come, looking for the tell tale signs of pursuit. When he finished with the last horse, he stood for a long time, staring over the valley behind them.
“They may have finally given up,” he said at last, throwing a grin at his employers. “Come. We are close. Your destination is at the top of that cliff, backed up against the next rise. We will be in view of it by nightfall. You may even have a proper bed tonight.”
Xaenja barked out a harsh laugh. She was tied in place on the driving seat next to Scevola, and glared bitterly at the group around her. “I am far from the only Consortium vulture looking to pick at your bones. I was simply not foolish enough to be duped by your ruse.”
“Hush, witch,” Elsbeth muttered, “or I shall leave your carcass to distract them with.”
“Enough,” Scevola cut in. “They are only four hours behind us, and they have the advantage of not being slowed by wagons loaded down with goods. Out here you obey my rules, and I say ride! Ride as though your lives depend on it, and be happy with the four hours sleep you got the last few nights. Tonight you will get less!” He snapped his reins and whistled shrilly, and his two horse team leaped into motion.
The pace Raimondo Scevola had set from the beginning was one that kept people from doing anything other than concentrating on following him. Now he seemed to drive his team to an even greater speed, one that seemed near suicidal, considering the state of the trail they were following. The two other carts and pack horses that made up the caravan matched him, and the adventurers had no option but to fall in line behind. They were five days northwest of Bloodcove, days of dusty, dirty running and riding as the scoundrel whipped his horses and wagon drivers to go ever faster and deeper into the night. To his credit, the scoundrel seemed a changed man within the vastness of the jungle. Gone was the drunkenness and sniveling, replaced instead by a hard edge that brooked no argument and accepted no excuse. The only time he slowed the pace was to check the horses and be sure that they were still capable of maintaining the push to Azlant Ridge. He was always the last to bed down, and always the first to rise.
Late the next morning, coming out of the forest canopy atop another in a long series of rises that marched their way into the Terwa Uplands, Scevola paused again. Ahead, the most imposing ridge yet cut above the trees, a sheer cliff draped with green and dripping with the runoff of hundreds of tiny rivulets. The valley between echoed with the calls of birds, animals and insects. Only the ever present chatter of monkeys that seemed to permeate every other part of the jungle was missing, a decidedly odd counterpoint to what the group was used to. As Scevola checked over each of his horses, he periodically glanced back the way they had come, looking for the tell tale signs of pursuit. When he finished with the last horse, he stood for a long time, staring over the valley behind them.
“They may have finally given up,” he said at last, throwing a grin at his employers. “Come. We are close. Your destination is at the top of that cliff, backed up against the next rise. We will be in view of it by nightfall. You may even have a proper bed tonight.”
Durvil Otterson
Otterson
The Otterson family holdings lay inside Restov within the lands of Lord Stinfelt. There is a small village and several farms attached to the Stone Villas holdings. Rents and harvests provide a minimal income with the bulk going to Lord Stinfelt. The Ottersons wealth has traditionally come from rewards and ransoms during war time. But due to Dragut Ottersons age and lack of recent conflicts that wealth has been dwindling.
Dragut Otterson Lord Knight of the Villa in Restov sired three children with his wife the Lady Trinity. The first born was Destiny Otterson. A strong willed child that would accept no suitor and has since left home and now follows her passion of exploring and revealing the pasts secrets. Dudley Otterson, the eldest son currently holds position as High Squire under Lord Stinfelt's care. Durvil Otterson, the youngest son also once held the position of Squire under Lord Stinfelt. It is Durvil Otterson's story we will tell here;
Throughout Durvil's childhood he had little to want. He grew up like all boys born to landed Nobles. He learned the ways of the courts, his letters, and the class structures. He excelled at the sword, mastered the horse and even could fire the bow. He had more than enough to eat, lived in the largest house for a days walk and had servants to fill his life with ease. His parents were held in high regard by nobles and villagers alike. At fourteen years he was sent to join his brother (who is 2 years his elder) in the service of Lord Stinfelt at the castle. Here he was to end his intellectual training and begin his War studies.
Here again he excelled, besting all the other squires in the horse and most in the sword. Durvil even bested his elder brother and salted the victory with boasting. These next few years would sorely change Durvil's and his families life. Durvil became bored with his squire duties. The other squires were too dull with all there talks of chivalry and honor. Durvil could best all of them and he doubted that any would live long enough to experience either of these. Despite his brothers and Sword masters warnings he began running with the town boys. He never got into too much trouble, just drunkenness, fighting and the occasional upset town girl who perhaps was not as interested in Durvils advances as he thought she should be. All of these minor offenses could be easily settled outside the courts with minor bribes and payments to the afflicted.
However, the families finances were taking a big hit. With Destiny's refusal to marry, and two sons to buy armor,weapons and those most expensive horses for, the Otterson horde was shrinking. Durvils petty offenses began adding up, and no one could make him stop. As with all spiraling out of control youth, Durvil would finally come crashing down. Lord Stinfelt's daughter soon caught Durvils' eye. A few walks in the gardens and the young Mistress Stinfelt was the next foe Durvil bested. However, as with all things Durvil quickly became bored and left the girl crying to her father. Now, laying with your fathers Lord's Daughter is not a minor offense easily forgiven. Lord Stinfelt's own son challenged Durvil in protection of his sisters honor and a dual was set. But fortunatelyyy for all involved, Dragut Otterson intervened and settled with Lord Stinfelt before the dual could be fought. The Ottersons would pay a guild price that would leave them near destitute. All the farms and the village rents would be deeded back to Lord Stinfelt, and Durvil would be stripped of his Squire rank and be sent to serve penance however the sword lords deemed fit.
Secret History:
It was discovered by Durvil himself, as a youth, that the Otterson name was not always that. Old parchments discovered in his fathers rooms indicated that Generations before the family was known as Uttersen. A name held by one of the 300 knights that rode with Choral the Conqueror.
The Otterson family holdings lay inside Restov within the lands of Lord Stinfelt. There is a small village and several farms attached to the Stone Villas holdings. Rents and harvests provide a minimal income with the bulk going to Lord Stinfelt. The Ottersons wealth has traditionally come from rewards and ransoms during war time. But due to Dragut Ottersons age and lack of recent conflicts that wealth has been dwindling.
Dragut Otterson Lord Knight of the Villa in Restov sired three children with his wife the Lady Trinity. The first born was Destiny Otterson. A strong willed child that would accept no suitor and has since left home and now follows her passion of exploring and revealing the pasts secrets. Dudley Otterson, the eldest son currently holds position as High Squire under Lord Stinfelt's care. Durvil Otterson, the youngest son also once held the position of Squire under Lord Stinfelt. It is Durvil Otterson's story we will tell here;
Throughout Durvil's childhood he had little to want. He grew up like all boys born to landed Nobles. He learned the ways of the courts, his letters, and the class structures. He excelled at the sword, mastered the horse and even could fire the bow. He had more than enough to eat, lived in the largest house for a days walk and had servants to fill his life with ease. His parents were held in high regard by nobles and villagers alike. At fourteen years he was sent to join his brother (who is 2 years his elder) in the service of Lord Stinfelt at the castle. Here he was to end his intellectual training and begin his War studies.
Here again he excelled, besting all the other squires in the horse and most in the sword. Durvil even bested his elder brother and salted the victory with boasting. These next few years would sorely change Durvil's and his families life. Durvil became bored with his squire duties. The other squires were too dull with all there talks of chivalry and honor. Durvil could best all of them and he doubted that any would live long enough to experience either of these. Despite his brothers and Sword masters warnings he began running with the town boys. He never got into too much trouble, just drunkenness, fighting and the occasional upset town girl who perhaps was not as interested in Durvils advances as he thought she should be. All of these minor offenses could be easily settled outside the courts with minor bribes and payments to the afflicted.
However, the families finances were taking a big hit. With Destiny's refusal to marry, and two sons to buy armor,weapons and those most expensive horses for, the Otterson horde was shrinking. Durvils petty offenses began adding up, and no one could make him stop. As with all spiraling out of control youth, Durvil would finally come crashing down. Lord Stinfelt's daughter soon caught Durvils' eye. A few walks in the gardens and the young Mistress Stinfelt was the next foe Durvil bested. However, as with all things Durvil quickly became bored and left the girl crying to her father. Now, laying with your fathers Lord's Daughter is not a minor offense easily forgiven. Lord Stinfelt's own son challenged Durvil in protection of his sisters honor and a dual was set. But fortunatelyyy for all involved, Dragut Otterson intervened and settled with Lord Stinfelt before the dual could be fought. The Ottersons would pay a guild price that would leave them near destitute. All the farms and the village rents would be deeded back to Lord Stinfelt, and Durvil would be stripped of his Squire rank and be sent to serve penance however the sword lords deemed fit.
Secret History:
It was discovered by Durvil himself, as a youth, that the Otterson name was not always that. Old parchments discovered in his fathers rooms indicated that Generations before the family was known as Uttersen. A name held by one of the 300 knights that rode with Choral the Conqueror.
Monday, April 18, 2011
Into the Steaming Jungles (Part 4)
After celebrating Lura's defeat, Sela, Ix, Elsbeth and Durvil decide to return to the Horses Whistle to deliver Senzers Medicines. Brother Lothar has been somehow lost amid all the drinking and celebration. But before leaving Elsbeth and strangely, Ixlpleth insist on removing anything of value from fat Lura's corpse. To both Sela and Durvils disgust the woman is rolled over and over and a couple of potions a wand and a big feather reveal themselves. Additionally a finely crafted chain mail mu mu and morning star are stripped from her and now a bloated naked woman lies in the belly of the Sanguine Pit. Sela converses with Rethald and to everyones good fortune she collects a 1000gp purse as her portion of the wagers made against her. Perhaps the Sanguine Pit is not such a bad place after all, I wonder what “Piggy” could make us?
The return to the Horses Whistle comes with yet more disappointment. Senzer is overjoyed with the delivery of the Ghost Wort, but sadly can not deliver on his end of the bargain for several days. He can provide a small portion of the requested tonics and tinctures in a days time but the rest must be delayed.
It was decided that Rold (the inn's owner) and the “Fruit Guy” will spread the word that we have departed the town one day earlier than we planned. Hopefully confusing any interested parties, while we complete the supply order from House Cartahanand visit the Pathfinder Society.
The next day, A very hung over Lothar is sent with Ronoldo to prepare the pack animals. A quick stop over at House Cartehegn assuresthe supplies will be delivered. The original price was reduced by 50% and the 1000gp from Selma’s winning along with 100gp from the “5” settles our debt and the Pathfinder house is next on the agenda.
The Pathfinders hall is actually a tiny hut staffed by a single woman named Maleka Phin. With little time for cover-ups or deception the “5” layout their plans and request any help Maleka can offer. She repeats Destiny Ottersons story about finding a map of the Aslant Ruins and a cave in the middle of a cliff in the middle of the jungle. That she needs a “key” to open the door, and is now being besieged by the Silverback King .(Rutherzak?) Or was it Angazhan ruler of Asaraq who established a dimensional anchor? Durvil finds it hard to pay attention for very long. Fortunatelyyy after all the important but boring details were told, Maleka helps us identify the treasures from Lura and confirms she can have a fast rider deliver the remaining mixtures from Senzer to us in route.
The horses are ready and supplies are packed at 2pm that afternoon and it is decided we should put as much distance between us and the Aspis Consotium as possible. With a final check of ropes and harnesses Ronoldo and the party prepare to leave when Ix decides to start flirting with a sultry woman who hopes to delay us. In an instant those silver tongued taunts erupt in incantations of Webs and Ix has blocked the woman’s progress. As is to be expected this woman did not come alone. Several more charge in after Sela and Dervil while more vixens rise from the rooftops to fire crossbows into the fray.
This fight was one for bards. The “5” or “4” this time, as Lother was still recovering in the back of a fish wagon, where ready for once.
Completely oblivious to the crossbow bolts raining down from the rooftops, Ixilplith laid into the Sultry leader with huge balls of tumbling fire. Elsbeth deftly maneuvered below a pair on the rooftop and went after them with whip to pull them down. After Sela provided a nice boon to the parties moral she moved in to cover Elsbeth. Leaving room for Durvil and Chiseler to ride down two that would follow her. Before most around the caravan even knew what was happing the sultry leader lie unconscious with Ixilpliths hands in her britches pulling scrolls and wands from who knows where. The remaining ladies scrambled away. And Durvil orders everyone to “Move Out!”
Elsbeth wants desperately to get something out of this exchange and tries searching the three remaining bodies as the horses carts and wagons roll away. I don't know what she found, but perhaps some new fineries will drape the half-elf’s body soon?
Loot collected from Lura's body
* 1 potion of invisibility (given to Sela)
* 1 potion of cure light wounds
* 1 wand of Reduce Person with 9 charges left
* 1 feather token (Conjure Magic Whip) 1 charge (PHB 513)
* 1 +1 Chain mail Mu Mu
* 1 masterwork morning star
Loot collected from Ixilpliths Lady
* 1 wand of Inflict Moderate Wounds with 11 charges (2d8+3)
* 2 scrolls
* 1 short spear
* 1 spell component pouch
The return to the Horses Whistle comes with yet more disappointment. Senzer is overjoyed with the delivery of the Ghost Wort, but sadly can not deliver on his end of the bargain for several days. He can provide a small portion of the requested tonics and tinctures in a days time but the rest must be delayed.
It was decided that Rold (the inn's owner) and the “Fruit Guy” will spread the word that we have departed the town one day earlier than we planned. Hopefully confusing any interested parties, while we complete the supply order from House Cartahanand visit the Pathfinder Society.
The next day, A very hung over Lothar is sent with Ronoldo to prepare the pack animals. A quick stop over at House Cartehegn assuresthe supplies will be delivered. The original price was reduced by 50% and the 1000gp from Selma’s winning along with 100gp from the “5” settles our debt and the Pathfinder house is next on the agenda.
The Pathfinders hall is actually a tiny hut staffed by a single woman named Maleka Phin. With little time for cover-ups or deception the “5” layout their plans and request any help Maleka can offer. She repeats Destiny Ottersons story about finding a map of the Aslant Ruins and a cave in the middle of a cliff in the middle of the jungle. That she needs a “key” to open the door, and is now being besieged by the Silverback King .(Rutherzak?) Or was it Angazhan ruler of Asaraq who established a dimensional anchor? Durvil finds it hard to pay attention for very long. Fortunatelyyy after all the important but boring details were told, Maleka helps us identify the treasures from Lura and confirms she can have a fast rider deliver the remaining mixtures from Senzer to us in route.
The horses are ready and supplies are packed at 2pm that afternoon and it is decided we should put as much distance between us and the Aspis Consotium as possible. With a final check of ropes and harnesses Ronoldo and the party prepare to leave when Ix decides to start flirting with a sultry woman who hopes to delay us. In an instant those silver tongued taunts erupt in incantations of Webs and Ix has blocked the woman’s progress. As is to be expected this woman did not come alone. Several more charge in after Sela and Dervil while more vixens rise from the rooftops to fire crossbows into the fray.
This fight was one for bards. The “5” or “4” this time, as Lother was still recovering in the back of a fish wagon, where ready for once.
Completely oblivious to the crossbow bolts raining down from the rooftops, Ixilplith laid into the Sultry leader with huge balls of tumbling fire. Elsbeth deftly maneuvered below a pair on the rooftop and went after them with whip to pull them down. After Sela provided a nice boon to the parties moral she moved in to cover Elsbeth. Leaving room for Durvil and Chiseler to ride down two that would follow her. Before most around the caravan even knew what was happing the sultry leader lie unconscious with Ixilpliths hands in her britches pulling scrolls and wands from who knows where. The remaining ladies scrambled away. And Durvil orders everyone to “Move Out!”
Elsbeth wants desperately to get something out of this exchange and tries searching the three remaining bodies as the horses carts and wagons roll away. I don't know what she found, but perhaps some new fineries will drape the half-elf’s body soon?
Loot collected from Lura's body
* 1 potion of invisibility (given to Sela)
* 1 potion of cure light wounds
* 1 wand of Reduce Person with 9 charges left
* 1 feather token (Conjure Magic Whip) 1 charge (PHB 513)
* 1 +1 Chain mail Mu Mu
* 1 masterwork morning star
Loot collected from Ixilpliths Lady
* 1 wand of Inflict Moderate Wounds with 11 charges (2d8+3)
* 2 scrolls
* 1 short spear
* 1 spell component pouch
Stage Dressing (Into the Steaming Jungles)
With a sickly thud, Lura’s immense bulk crashed to the floor. On the edge of awareness everyone could only just hear what sounded like an unearthly scream that was cut off as Bellu instantly disappeared back to whatever imagination Lura had created her from. What followed was complete silence as the entire bar’s patronage stared at the group in shock.
Jumping on top of his counter, the bartender flung his arms in the air. “In honor of my promotion to Owner of The Sanguine Pit, drinks are on the house!”
The bar erupted in shouts. Drinks were shouted for and received as promptly as the pressured staff could deliver. Already new wagers were being placed, and money changed hands with a pace that was almost furious. Elsbeth thought she heard someone offer twenty to one odds that “the elf woman” couldn’t defeat “Piggy” straight up. She briefly considered taking them up on it, but instead turned and joined her companions at the bar. If Lura was *not* the one called “Piggy,” she didn’t want anything to do with the person who did hold that nickname.
Durvil reached across the bar and grabbed the bartender as he rushed by, stopping him short. “Hey!” he shouted over the din. When he had the bartender’s attention he waved back at where a couple of toughs were dragging Lura’s bulk toward the open door. “Seeing as we’re the ones who won you your promotion, I think you owe us a favor.”
“Hah! Of course, of course,” the bartender laughed. “Anything for this evening’s champions. My friends call me Retheld. What can I do for you?”
“A drug.”
Retheld barked another laugh. “How much? And what variety?”
“A specific drug,” Lothar clarified. “The one your old boss was holding over Senzer Rulkep’s head to get him to work. The one that cures his son.”
Frowning momentarily, Retheld’s joviality waned in the face of this request. “Right. She keeps that one in the safe. I’ll be right back.” He broke away from the group, immediately transforming back into a jovial bartender as he grabbed up mugs and delivered freshly topped ones to his waiting patrons. Snatching a woman from the end of the bar, he planted her behind it and gestured up and down its length. With a quick nod, she dove into her new task. The fact that each drink was served from the same tap made things easy, at least, and she set about serving each person at the bar as Retheld disappeared into the door on the back wall. When he returned, he carried a small package wrapped in soft leather and twine. “This is what you’re looking for. Lura bought every ounce of it left in Bloodcove, and told all the herbalists that if they brought more into the city she’d kill them. I don’t think they ever knew what it was for, and no one was ever willing to cross her. Well, until you all came along.”
“Speaking of which,” Elsbeth cut in, “how long do we have before someone comes looking for her?”
Retheld shrugged. “Depends on whether she owes someone higher up any money. Could be a couple days, could be a couple hours. No matter what, she’ll have to check in with Captain Xaenja the day after tomorrow. I’m sure she’ll come around the next morning, after Lura doesn’t show up.” He grinned. “That’s when my promotion will be made official.”
“And she won’t care that Lura’s dead?” Selah asked, incredulous.
“Oh, she’ll care. Business has to come first, though, and that’s where I’ll come in. What she wants to do about you folk is up to her. I have nothing to do with it. Lura didn’t owe me any money, after all.”
“Baffling,” Durvil exclaimed. “You’re saying this woman’s existence was based solely on the money she paid people.”
“Well,” Retheld smiled, “that’s one way to look at it, I suppose. But she made a lot of people a lot of money. I only get the bar. The other stuff she did I know nothing about. Those people will be right pissed, I imagine, and they’ll come looking for you to get a bit of it back.”
“Oh! I know what this is!” Everyone turned toward Ixilplith, where he had the package open and one of the leaves held up before him. “Mosto di malto phantasma.” He looked around at everyone. “Ghost wort.”
After a long pause, Durvil stood up off his bar stool. “Right, then. Let’s get out of here and get this wart stuff back to Sensay.”
Jumping on top of his counter, the bartender flung his arms in the air. “In honor of my promotion to Owner of The Sanguine Pit, drinks are on the house!”
The bar erupted in shouts. Drinks were shouted for and received as promptly as the pressured staff could deliver. Already new wagers were being placed, and money changed hands with a pace that was almost furious. Elsbeth thought she heard someone offer twenty to one odds that “the elf woman” couldn’t defeat “Piggy” straight up. She briefly considered taking them up on it, but instead turned and joined her companions at the bar. If Lura was *not* the one called “Piggy,” she didn’t want anything to do with the person who did hold that nickname.
Durvil reached across the bar and grabbed the bartender as he rushed by, stopping him short. “Hey!” he shouted over the din. When he had the bartender’s attention he waved back at where a couple of toughs were dragging Lura’s bulk toward the open door. “Seeing as we’re the ones who won you your promotion, I think you owe us a favor.”
“Hah! Of course, of course,” the bartender laughed. “Anything for this evening’s champions. My friends call me Retheld. What can I do for you?”
“A drug.”
Retheld barked another laugh. “How much? And what variety?”
“A specific drug,” Lothar clarified. “The one your old boss was holding over Senzer Rulkep’s head to get him to work. The one that cures his son.”
Frowning momentarily, Retheld’s joviality waned in the face of this request. “Right. She keeps that one in the safe. I’ll be right back.” He broke away from the group, immediately transforming back into a jovial bartender as he grabbed up mugs and delivered freshly topped ones to his waiting patrons. Snatching a woman from the end of the bar, he planted her behind it and gestured up and down its length. With a quick nod, she dove into her new task. The fact that each drink was served from the same tap made things easy, at least, and she set about serving each person at the bar as Retheld disappeared into the door on the back wall. When he returned, he carried a small package wrapped in soft leather and twine. “This is what you’re looking for. Lura bought every ounce of it left in Bloodcove, and told all the herbalists that if they brought more into the city she’d kill them. I don’t think they ever knew what it was for, and no one was ever willing to cross her. Well, until you all came along.”
“Speaking of which,” Elsbeth cut in, “how long do we have before someone comes looking for her?”
Retheld shrugged. “Depends on whether she owes someone higher up any money. Could be a couple days, could be a couple hours. No matter what, she’ll have to check in with Captain Xaenja the day after tomorrow. I’m sure she’ll come around the next morning, after Lura doesn’t show up.” He grinned. “That’s when my promotion will be made official.”
“And she won’t care that Lura’s dead?” Selah asked, incredulous.
“Oh, she’ll care. Business has to come first, though, and that’s where I’ll come in. What she wants to do about you folk is up to her. I have nothing to do with it. Lura didn’t owe me any money, after all.”
“Baffling,” Durvil exclaimed. “You’re saying this woman’s existence was based solely on the money she paid people.”
“Well,” Retheld smiled, “that’s one way to look at it, I suppose. But she made a lot of people a lot of money. I only get the bar. The other stuff she did I know nothing about. Those people will be right pissed, I imagine, and they’ll come looking for you to get a bit of it back.”
“Oh! I know what this is!” Everyone turned toward Ixilplith, where he had the package open and one of the leaves held up before him. “Mosto di malto phantasma.” He looked around at everyone. “Ghost wort.”
After a long pause, Durvil stood up off his bar stool. “Right, then. Let’s get out of here and get this wart stuff back to Sensay.”
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