Biblo Phyle, arcane antiquarian
Biblo enjoys reading and puttering about his library but feels the itch of adventure again. He makes his way to the Delver's Guild to check on any news from his comrades about new expeditions.
March 2-3: The Old 19th and Events Thereafter
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Grognardsw
- Rider of Rohan
- Posts: 12289
- Joined: Wed Jun 26, 2013 12:30 pm
- Location: ImagiNation
Re: Mournday, March 2: The Old Nineteenth
Zaent Darkhand, elven criminal:
Zaent quickly made his way to the deathbed of his old mentor, Godric Greathouse; his lovely elf face a perfect mask that hid all his fear, doubt and treachery.
"Open up. I'm here to see Godric."
Zaent quickly made his way to the deathbed of his old mentor, Godric Greathouse; his lovely elf face a perfect mask that hid all his fear, doubt and treachery.
"Open up. I'm here to see Godric."
Re: Mournday, March 2: The Old Nineteenth
Zachariah Tar pockets one of the apples. Standing up, he addresses the woman from his dreams. "Aye, 'tis a fine thing, and toothsome treats, an' we'd name ye Aunt Charity, if'n tis a name ye'd have. But, pray, tell us poor dogs yer true name, so's we might thank ye proper, and hear more of the Lady of Light an' her blessings."
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Mister-Kent
- Ranger Knight
- Posts: 1941
- Joined: Mon Nov 03, 2014 10:17 pm
Re: Mournday, March 2: The Old Nineteenth
Zaent
Through twisted and shadowed streets you travel to the 24th Ward, arriving at the Night Clan's nondescript tower hideout via a narrow bridge. Your return is divisive--guildmates either greet you with a quiet warmth or not at all. Even the ones who seem to regard you well lament the timing of your arrival. If you've come home, after all that's transpired, the only reason can be that Godric Greathouse is not long for this world.
From Godric's room, you can see the port, the River of Despair flowing into the Harbor of Grudges. No ships can pass through the great northern tunnel, so instead the merchants send rowboats and barges. Occasionally a small sailboat attempts to pass through the tunnel through the Thornridge Mountains, often vanishing along the way.
Godric warily watches the docks from his bedside window, the whites of his eyes now ghastly yellow. He extends his hand to you and breathes a sigh of relief. You notice the bedside table is littered with empty potion bottles and various chopped herbs, the last attempts at cures and pain-relievers.
"Good morning," he says in his fatherly way, as if he'd only seen you last night.
Footsteps signal the arrival of someone outside the bedroom door, but the person does not enter.
Gul Marach
Elliya hands you a scroll and a necklace. It is of course the holy symbol of Vorn, which you possess as well--two iron nails, twisted together at the pointed ends, forged into the shape of a "V", and affixed to a chain at the nail-heads.
"This is a…well, not a treaty, but a missive of our intentions. Though a beggar herself, the Urchin Queen, it is said, has resources at her fingertips far beyond coin and custom. She knows ways about the city, and secrets buried. The Church of Vorn has always lent aid to the poor, and we should remind the Urchin Queen of this. Someday…should we need to engage the Scarlet Regent's forces in battle, we will need the forces of the Under City at our side. This is an important mission, my friend--the High Priest will grant 2,000 gold pieces from our vault upon your group's safe return."
"Now, the city is like a sieve--there are many holes to trickle down into the Under City, many points of access. However! You must be cautious of where you go. I'd recommend entering somewhere near the Harbor of Grudges--provided you not drown on the way down, you will land in a place of relative peace. From there, head south…and down. You will find the Urchin Queen's court there."
Matron leaves for a moment and returns with two possible allies for this journey--Sister Krystyn of the Sisterhood of Rust and Acolyte Gachard, who wasn't Elliya's first choice but eagerly volunteered, emboldened by your lecture.
Biblo
Lord Grandulo is pleased to see you return. The Guildmaster is sitting in the banquet hall contently, ale in hand, as if he hasn't left this spot since the Questing Feast two days ago.
Alver Holly--the loutish delver who made advances on Morgan at the Feast--emerges from the guild apartments somewhat angrily. "Oh, it's you, bookworm," he grunts. "You and your friends sure did a number on the Old Nineteenth--by the time my crew got to it, the Inquisitors were crawling all over it, and half the blasted place was torched to ash!"
"Still…the fire's quelled, and I'll bet there's something there for us," he says confidently. "My boys are going to find another way in, past the guards. Maybe a tunnel…" he mutters, then realizes he never likes talking to you much and clams up.
Frost, the quiet delver who curiously stalked Mathias all throughout the Feast, appears behind you, as if she'd been there silently for several minutes. "Where's the goblin man?" she asks you meekly, wondering where your changeling assassin friend went off to. "I was...going to give him this." She holds a small wrapped item--your literary obsession tips you off that it's shaped like a book.
(Tobias Gifford may enter here!)
Zachariah
The thickly-built woman curtsies gently. "I am a humble servant of the people--Mother Bastet. Or, as my friends say, Bastet the Immense. Referring to my generosity, they assure me!" she laughs.
"I come from far away to spread the teachings of the White Way--the true White Way, which espouses charity, and mercy. The Scarlet Regent has perhaps forgotten some of the Blessed Lady's teachings, but I have not. I wish to bring an end…to suffering." She says, which completely captures the beggars' attention.
"I've opened a shelter in one of the abandoned towers not far from here. Come with me now, and I shall tell you all more of the Lady's good news. And there's lots more to eat, as well!" At this, the beggars climb over each other to get into her cart.
The last one left out of the cart, hesitant to join, is the beggar boy. "The…White Way, you say?" he asks Bastet, and she nods. The boy looks back at you, as does Bastet. She finally sits back down and prepares to drive her cart away, with or without the boy.
Through twisted and shadowed streets you travel to the 24th Ward, arriving at the Night Clan's nondescript tower hideout via a narrow bridge. Your return is divisive--guildmates either greet you with a quiet warmth or not at all. Even the ones who seem to regard you well lament the timing of your arrival. If you've come home, after all that's transpired, the only reason can be that Godric Greathouse is not long for this world.
From Godric's room, you can see the port, the River of Despair flowing into the Harbor of Grudges. No ships can pass through the great northern tunnel, so instead the merchants send rowboats and barges. Occasionally a small sailboat attempts to pass through the tunnel through the Thornridge Mountains, often vanishing along the way.
Godric warily watches the docks from his bedside window, the whites of his eyes now ghastly yellow. He extends his hand to you and breathes a sigh of relief. You notice the bedside table is littered with empty potion bottles and various chopped herbs, the last attempts at cures and pain-relievers.
"Good morning," he says in his fatherly way, as if he'd only seen you last night.
Footsteps signal the arrival of someone outside the bedroom door, but the person does not enter.
Gul Marach
Elliya hands you a scroll and a necklace. It is of course the holy symbol of Vorn, which you possess as well--two iron nails, twisted together at the pointed ends, forged into the shape of a "V", and affixed to a chain at the nail-heads.
"This is a…well, not a treaty, but a missive of our intentions. Though a beggar herself, the Urchin Queen, it is said, has resources at her fingertips far beyond coin and custom. She knows ways about the city, and secrets buried. The Church of Vorn has always lent aid to the poor, and we should remind the Urchin Queen of this. Someday…should we need to engage the Scarlet Regent's forces in battle, we will need the forces of the Under City at our side. This is an important mission, my friend--the High Priest will grant 2,000 gold pieces from our vault upon your group's safe return."
"Now, the city is like a sieve--there are many holes to trickle down into the Under City, many points of access. However! You must be cautious of where you go. I'd recommend entering somewhere near the Harbor of Grudges--provided you not drown on the way down, you will land in a place of relative peace. From there, head south…and down. You will find the Urchin Queen's court there."
Matron leaves for a moment and returns with two possible allies for this journey--Sister Krystyn of the Sisterhood of Rust and Acolyte Gachard, who wasn't Elliya's first choice but eagerly volunteered, emboldened by your lecture.
Biblo
Lord Grandulo is pleased to see you return. The Guildmaster is sitting in the banquet hall contently, ale in hand, as if he hasn't left this spot since the Questing Feast two days ago.
Alver Holly--the loutish delver who made advances on Morgan at the Feast--emerges from the guild apartments somewhat angrily. "Oh, it's you, bookworm," he grunts. "You and your friends sure did a number on the Old Nineteenth--by the time my crew got to it, the Inquisitors were crawling all over it, and half the blasted place was torched to ash!"
"Still…the fire's quelled, and I'll bet there's something there for us," he says confidently. "My boys are going to find another way in, past the guards. Maybe a tunnel…" he mutters, then realizes he never likes talking to you much and clams up.
Frost, the quiet delver who curiously stalked Mathias all throughout the Feast, appears behind you, as if she'd been there silently for several minutes. "Where's the goblin man?" she asks you meekly, wondering where your changeling assassin friend went off to. "I was...going to give him this." She holds a small wrapped item--your literary obsession tips you off that it's shaped like a book.
(Tobias Gifford may enter here!)
Zachariah
The thickly-built woman curtsies gently. "I am a humble servant of the people--Mother Bastet. Or, as my friends say, Bastet the Immense. Referring to my generosity, they assure me!" she laughs.
"I come from far away to spread the teachings of the White Way--the true White Way, which espouses charity, and mercy. The Scarlet Regent has perhaps forgotten some of the Blessed Lady's teachings, but I have not. I wish to bring an end…to suffering." She says, which completely captures the beggars' attention.
"I've opened a shelter in one of the abandoned towers not far from here. Come with me now, and I shall tell you all more of the Lady's good news. And there's lots more to eat, as well!" At this, the beggars climb over each other to get into her cart.
The last one left out of the cart, hesitant to join, is the beggar boy. "The…White Way, you say?" he asks Bastet, and she nods. The boy looks back at you, as does Bastet. She finally sits back down and prepares to drive her cart away, with or without the boy.
Re: Mournday, March 2: The Old Nineteenth
Ballar Uh, fighter/assassin
"New leg. This Lady Tamara - where is she? A friend needs a new leg too."
Ballar Uh is officially outcreeped... That doesn't happen often. Lady Tamara... who is she? The name doesn't sound familiar. But judging by the little information, she is into the same thing the Mistress Alea was partial to - the modification of the body. The art of the flesh.Mister-Kent wrote:Ballar Uh
"My…my leg?" the nobleman stammers. "I was a strapping lad in my youth--an athlete! Bwahhh! What do you know of it, eh?" he says, boastful at first, then turning sour. "I lost the damned thing to the Vornhalla--you know, the Arena! But, I'm on my way to get a new one…an even better one!"
You palm the bag without alerting anyone--at first. Through the bag you feel five protrusions attached to a flattened fleshy lump. When you try to stow the bag on your person, the protrusions grasp, clamping themselves around your hand and not letting go!
The noble catches on, and pries the bag from your hand. "Ah, thank you for retrieving that, boy. Lady Tamara will want her payment intact…" As he touches the bag, the grasping thing within goes rigid.
"New leg. This Lady Tamara - where is she? A friend needs a new leg too."
G A M E S :
Running Vaults & Wastelands [Fallout]
Isaiah Bartlett in That Which Should Not Be [CoC]
Ingrid Esthof in The Horror at Briarsgate [1e]
Jónas Gillman in The Sinister Secret of Saltmarsh [1e]
I N A C T I V E : (
Ballar Uh in Dungeonesque [LL/AEC]
Favrick in The Rise of Smaug [BW]
Running Vaults & Wastelands [Fallout]
Isaiah Bartlett in That Which Should Not Be [CoC]
Ingrid Esthof in The Horror at Briarsgate [1e]
Jónas Gillman in The Sinister Secret of Saltmarsh [1e]
I N A C T I V E : (
Ballar Uh in Dungeonesque [LL/AEC]
Favrick in The Rise of Smaug [BW]
Re: Mournday, March 2: The Old Nineteenth
Zacharias Tar addresses Bastet the Immense, but his eyes seek out the boy's, hoping to draw him away from the woman's lap. "Aunt or Mother, I do enjoy a plum bunk an' plentiful vittles, but can't say I care t'end me suffering. Misery's the river o' the world. And while a good soul, such as yerself, might hope t' soothe suffering, can't no one but th' hangman end it."
Addressing the boy directly, Tar says, "Come along, boy. We have some business as needs tending. You can set in Charity's lap later. We thank ye for yer boon, Aunt an' Mother. An' I look astern t' hearing the tales of care and comfort from those eager lads, come first bell, t'morrow."
Addressing the boy directly, Tar says, "Come along, boy. We have some business as needs tending. You can set in Charity's lap later. We thank ye for yer boon, Aunt an' Mother. An' I look astern t' hearing the tales of care and comfort from those eager lads, come first bell, t'morrow."
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Mister-Kent
- Ranger Knight
- Posts: 1941
- Joined: Mon Nov 03, 2014 10:17 pm
Re: Mournday, March 2: The Old Nineteenth
Ballar Uh
The nobleman grunts and points off towards the south. "The Tower of Tamara is in the 48th Ward. Make sure you bring a gift. Don't go empty-handed. She hates anyone who shows up without something to trade." The bag in his hand jerks suddenly before he stuffs it into his jacket.
Dena shudders as the man and his entourage continues on their way. "Are you all right, Bal?" she asks you. "You seemed struck with some new dread. I confess, I've never heard of a 'Lady Tamara'.
Zachariah Tar
The boy sniffs and tosses his apple core beneath the wheels of Bastet's cart. "Sorry missus--I'll catch the next ride," he says, and shuffles back to your side with his hands in his pockets.
Bastet nods, and drives the cart off to her sanctuary. The apple core flattens with a wet pop beneath the wheels, and Bastet looks over her shoulder at the cart-full of beggars. As they vanish around the corner, you hear Bastet's hymn resume.
The kid sighs to see his fellow vagrants so eager to join up, but his disappointment appears brief. "So…what next eh?" the boy asks you, pushing his greasy black hair from his forehead. "I don't got nothin' planned, but you said you have business?"
The nobleman grunts and points off towards the south. "The Tower of Tamara is in the 48th Ward. Make sure you bring a gift. Don't go empty-handed. She hates anyone who shows up without something to trade." The bag in his hand jerks suddenly before he stuffs it into his jacket.
Dena shudders as the man and his entourage continues on their way. "Are you all right, Bal?" she asks you. "You seemed struck with some new dread. I confess, I've never heard of a 'Lady Tamara'.
Zachariah Tar
The boy sniffs and tosses his apple core beneath the wheels of Bastet's cart. "Sorry missus--I'll catch the next ride," he says, and shuffles back to your side with his hands in his pockets.
Bastet nods, and drives the cart off to her sanctuary. The apple core flattens with a wet pop beneath the wheels, and Bastet looks over her shoulder at the cart-full of beggars. As they vanish around the corner, you hear Bastet's hymn resume.
The kid sighs to see his fellow vagrants so eager to join up, but his disappointment appears brief. "So…what next eh?" the boy asks you, pushing his greasy black hair from his forehead. "I don't got nothin' planned, but you said you have business?"
Re: Mournday, March 2: The Old Nineteenth
Tobias Gifford
Tobias appeared from the guild apartments moments after Alver and just in time to hear his chattering, once the lout and the quiet one had finished and moved on he adjusted his tri-corn hat and approached the half-elf Biblo putting on his most charming demeanor.
"Good day! I don't think we've ever been properly introduced allow me to remedy that, I am Tobias Gifford trained battle mage and a man very eager to hear about your groups exploits down in The Old Nineteenth." He shifts his spell farther to his backside, the weight of the thing causing him a minor discomfort. "I love hearing a good tale from fellow Delvers, well from those that are willing to share that is. I'm a bit of a collector you see...of tales that is, besides the gold the experiences are the finest reward we can get for doing what we do. Don't you think?"
Tobias appeared from the guild apartments moments after Alver and just in time to hear his chattering, once the lout and the quiet one had finished and moved on he adjusted his tri-corn hat and approached the half-elf Biblo putting on his most charming demeanor.
"Good day! I don't think we've ever been properly introduced allow me to remedy that, I am Tobias Gifford trained battle mage and a man very eager to hear about your groups exploits down in The Old Nineteenth." He shifts his spell farther to his backside, the weight of the thing causing him a minor discomfort. "I love hearing a good tale from fellow Delvers, well from those that are willing to share that is. I'm a bit of a collector you see...of tales that is, besides the gold the experiences are the finest reward we can get for doing what we do. Don't you think?"
Re: Mournday, March 2: The Old Nineteenth
Zaent Darkhand, elven criminal:
"Vorn, Godric," the atheist swore. "It's all going to hell. Everything you've built won't outlive you for long," he snarled in disgust at the shame and the waste.
Then, with more pretend concern, "What can I do?" Godric knew Zaent, so the unsentimental elf didn't pour it on too thick. He checked the dilation of the old man's pupils as he appeared to look deeply into them with an expression approximating affection and regret.
"I came when I heard," Zaent lied, taking the dying man's hand. At least he was drugged; out of pain, yes, but also more apt to talk. The elf kept his voice down, to shield it from the eavesdropper outside; likely Sable or one of her men.Mister-Kent wrote:Zaent
Godric warily watches the docks from his bedside window, the whites of his eyes now ghastly yellow. He extends his hand to you and breathes a sigh of relief. You notice the bedside table is littered with empty potion bottles and various chopped herbs, the last attempts at cures and pain-relievers.
"Good morning," he says in his fatherly way, as if he'd only seen you last night.
Footsteps signal the arrival of someone outside the bedroom door, but the person does not enter.
"Vorn, Godric," the atheist swore. "It's all going to hell. Everything you've built won't outlive you for long," he snarled in disgust at the shame and the waste.
Then, with more pretend concern, "What can I do?" Godric knew Zaent, so the unsentimental elf didn't pour it on too thick. He checked the dilation of the old man's pupils as he appeared to look deeply into them with an expression approximating affection and regret.
Re: Mournday, March 2: The Old Nineteenth
Ballar Uh, fighter/assassin
"Lady Tamara. I don't know her. Her methods I know. I think. In the bag, that something was alive."
He turns back around, and starts walking in their original direction.
"One leg be lost today in the city. One leg be gained."
"Just... a memory," Ballar Uh murmurs, watching the lame nobleman leave. Memories, of all dreadful things, are the most vicious ones.Mister-Kent wrote:Ballar Uh
The nobleman grunts and points off towards the south. "The Tower of Tamara is in the 48th Ward. Make sure you bring a gift. Don't go empty-handed. She hates anyone who shows up without something to trade." The bag in his hand jerks suddenly before he stuffs it into his jacket.
Dena shudders as the man and his entourage continues on their way. "Are you all right, Bal?" she asks you. "You seemed struck with some new dread. I confess, I've never heard of a 'Lady Tamara'.
"Lady Tamara. I don't know her. Her methods I know. I think. In the bag, that something was alive."
He turns back around, and starts walking in their original direction.
"One leg be lost today in the city. One leg be gained."
G A M E S :
Running Vaults & Wastelands [Fallout]
Isaiah Bartlett in That Which Should Not Be [CoC]
Ingrid Esthof in The Horror at Briarsgate [1e]
Jónas Gillman in The Sinister Secret of Saltmarsh [1e]
I N A C T I V E : (
Ballar Uh in Dungeonesque [LL/AEC]
Favrick in The Rise of Smaug [BW]
Running Vaults & Wastelands [Fallout]
Isaiah Bartlett in That Which Should Not Be [CoC]
Ingrid Esthof in The Horror at Briarsgate [1e]
Jónas Gillman in The Sinister Secret of Saltmarsh [1e]
I N A C T I V E : (
Ballar Uh in Dungeonesque [LL/AEC]
Favrick in The Rise of Smaug [BW]
-
Grognardsw
- Rider of Rohan
- Posts: 12289
- Joined: Wed Jun 26, 2013 12:30 pm
- Location: ImagiNation
Re: Mournday, March 2: The Old Nineteenth
Biblo is not comfortable the group's exploits are so known. Better to be in the shadows away from prying eyes.Biblo
Lord Grandulo is pleased to see you return. The Guildmaster is sitting in the banquet hall contently, ale in hand, as if he hasn't left this spot since the Questing Feast two days ago.
Alver Holly--the loutish delver who made advances on Morgan at the Feast--emerges from the guild apartments somewhat angrily. "Oh, it's you, bookworm," he grunts. "You and your friends sure did a number on the Old Nineteenth--by the time my crew got to it, the Inquisitors were crawling all over it, and half the blasted place was torched to ash!"
"Still…the fire's quelled, and I'll bet there's something there for us," he says confidently. "My boys are going to find another way in, past the guards. Maybe a tunnel…" he mutters, then realizes he never likes talking to you much and clams up.
Frost, the quiet delver who curiously stalked Mathias all throughout the Feast, appears behind you, as if she'd been there silently for several minutes. "Where's the goblin man?" she asks you meekly, wondering where your changeling assassin friend went off to. "I was...going to give him this." She holds a small wrapped item--your literary obsession tips you off that it's shaped like a book.
"The place is not worth the time Alver. A fire did get out of control; the place is one big fire trap. Good luck should you get in."
When Frost approaches, Biblo greets him witha smile and answers: "Oh he is out and about. Hard to pin down, but I'll see him tonight. I would be happy to give him your package."
Upon the introduction from Tobias, Biblo shakes his hand and says: "Welcome to the Guild Tobias, I am Biblo Phyle, a wizard of the illusionist specialty. A battle mage you say? That is intriguing and seems appropriate for delving. Aye, experiences can be priceless, though they don't pay the bills. Yes, our little jaunt to the 19th had moments of excitement. It seems those moments grew epic in the tellings though."
Concerned about undue attention should the "exploits" reach undesireable ears, Biblo relates a very simple and innocuous version of the story. "So you see, it was really just a torch accident that got out of control."
"There may be another expedition coming up soon you could join in."
Re: Mournday, March 2: The Old Nineteenth
"Aunt Charity jus' made herself my business, boy. You seen me on th' corner, makin' speech? I got the deep waters o' th' world whispering in my ear, an' they tell as she's a mighty great shark, lookin' t'bloody up some chum. I reckon t'follow in her wake a spell, spy what I can.Mister-Kent wrote:The kid sighs to see his fellow vagrants so eager to join up, but his disappointment appears brief. "So…what next eh?" the boy asks you, pushing his greasy black hair from his forehead. "I don't got nothin' planned, but you said you have business?"
"As fer you, y'showed good sense stepping away from her, like that. You take care t'keep that head attached, aye? You got a place t'bunk now that ye've passed on her poison'd pillow? You... ah, you hear tell of th' undercity? How some folks head belowdecks when the streets look too stormy?"
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Mister-Kent
- Ranger Knight
- Posts: 1941
- Joined: Mon Nov 03, 2014 10:17 pm
Re: Mournday, March 2: The Old Nineteenth
Biblo Phyle
Frost hesitates, then gives you the book, a wary look on her face."Yes--please do see that he gets it. But, you may wish to read it as well," she says quietly. "Also, I do have maps to sell, if you're interested. The Immortal Zoo, perhaps? Or something a little more intimate. Well, you just think about that. Good day, sir." She then withdraws to the far corner of the room, still monitoring you none too secretly, a slight blush in her cheek. Perhaps she has passed her fleeting affections onto you…
The loosely-wrapped book is an Atrocitus Compendium, one of only three copies made that you know of. It is a compilation of historical accounts of one-thousand-years-worth of gruesome crimes from all parts of the known world.
This volume has illustrations.
Tobias Gifford
Frost gives you a bashful grin before slipping out into the courtyard.
Zachariah Tar
The boy nods. "Yeah, come to mention it, I seen you ranting before. Interesting stuff." He wipes the fruit juice from his hand and offers a handshake. "Ah, folks call me Fog. Ain't my real name, but they say it's right for me because…"
His words drift off as he turns and looks down the street at a bazaar. He mutters something, the turns back to you. "What was we talking about?"
"Oh yeah--you said something about 'below', as in the Under City?" he remembers. "I got some places nearby to bed down, but I always thought to head down below. They say--'they' being street-bodies like ourselves--they say the beggars got a decent set-up there. But I never did go, on account of the dangers in the going. Had a friend once what was determined to venture there. He was so eager to see the Urchin Queen's court! Never heard from him again, probably lost along the way, poor soul."
"But he did tell me the route he intended to take, should I ever follow. I just never had the nerve…"
Zaent Darkhand
"What you can do is not mourn me until I'm gone!" he laughs weakly. "The rest of the clan…I cannot stand their faces when they pass my open door, as if I am already a corpse."
"As for my crumbling 'empire'…it's yours, for what it's worth. If you can save it from the Faded Vapors, that is. Sable…I love her, but she is not ready to lead. You've always had the keen ruthlessness that I so admire, and so it should be you--Of course it should be you!" He begins to get excited, then coughs harshly.
"But you must listen--before I go, I must tell you what happened when I was young, long before you were born."
"In my youth, I had great friends. A proud fighter, skilled mage, bold cleric--and I as their wily thief. Have you ever heard of such a motley band? Fifty years ago, a thing came to Vornheim, a being from…outside our world. My friends and I contained its terrible power, divided its pieces between us for safekeeping, but after the battle we were forever changed. We parted ways not as friends, sadly. The cleric Bar-Badon now sits as High Priest of Vorn, and has not spoken to me since. The brave fighter, Prince Thrawl, ascended to the throne, now gone. And the mage…the saddest loss of all…my beautiful Alea, also gone. But she lives on in her--"
He pauses and looks at his bedroom door, then continues.
"As long as one piece of this dread power remains in this world it can never truly die, but as long as each of our pieces remains separate it can never truly live again. I would not see my fragment fall into the wrong hands," he explains with a knowing look. "If you take my place as head of the clan, this you must know."
Frost hesitates, then gives you the book, a wary look on her face."Yes--please do see that he gets it. But, you may wish to read it as well," she says quietly. "Also, I do have maps to sell, if you're interested. The Immortal Zoo, perhaps? Or something a little more intimate. Well, you just think about that. Good day, sir." She then withdraws to the far corner of the room, still monitoring you none too secretly, a slight blush in her cheek. Perhaps she has passed her fleeting affections onto you…
The loosely-wrapped book is an Atrocitus Compendium, one of only three copies made that you know of. It is a compilation of historical accounts of one-thousand-years-worth of gruesome crimes from all parts of the known world.
This volume has illustrations.
Tobias Gifford
Frost gives you a bashful grin before slipping out into the courtyard.
Zachariah Tar
The boy nods. "Yeah, come to mention it, I seen you ranting before. Interesting stuff." He wipes the fruit juice from his hand and offers a handshake. "Ah, folks call me Fog. Ain't my real name, but they say it's right for me because…"
His words drift off as he turns and looks down the street at a bazaar. He mutters something, the turns back to you. "What was we talking about?"
"Oh yeah--you said something about 'below', as in the Under City?" he remembers. "I got some places nearby to bed down, but I always thought to head down below. They say--'they' being street-bodies like ourselves--they say the beggars got a decent set-up there. But I never did go, on account of the dangers in the going. Had a friend once what was determined to venture there. He was so eager to see the Urchin Queen's court! Never heard from him again, probably lost along the way, poor soul."
"But he did tell me the route he intended to take, should I ever follow. I just never had the nerve…"
Zaent Darkhand
"What you can do is not mourn me until I'm gone!" he laughs weakly. "The rest of the clan…I cannot stand their faces when they pass my open door, as if I am already a corpse."
"As for my crumbling 'empire'…it's yours, for what it's worth. If you can save it from the Faded Vapors, that is. Sable…I love her, but she is not ready to lead. You've always had the keen ruthlessness that I so admire, and so it should be you--Of course it should be you!" He begins to get excited, then coughs harshly.
"But you must listen--before I go, I must tell you what happened when I was young, long before you were born."
"In my youth, I had great friends. A proud fighter, skilled mage, bold cleric--and I as their wily thief. Have you ever heard of such a motley band? Fifty years ago, a thing came to Vornheim, a being from…outside our world. My friends and I contained its terrible power, divided its pieces between us for safekeeping, but after the battle we were forever changed. We parted ways not as friends, sadly. The cleric Bar-Badon now sits as High Priest of Vorn, and has not spoken to me since. The brave fighter, Prince Thrawl, ascended to the throne, now gone. And the mage…the saddest loss of all…my beautiful Alea, also gone. But she lives on in her--"
He pauses and looks at his bedroom door, then continues.
"As long as one piece of this dread power remains in this world it can never truly die, but as long as each of our pieces remains separate it can never truly live again. I would not see my fragment fall into the wrong hands," he explains with a knowing look. "If you take my place as head of the clan, this you must know."
Re: Mournday, March 2: The Old Nineteenth
Tobias Gifford
Tobias tips his hat toward lady Frost and returns a smile before her departure.
Hearing Biblo's account of what had gone on in the Old Nineteenth he tried to stifle his laughter but couldn't help let out a small snicker.
"I see it's not unheard of especially during the chaos of combat, still an interesting story if for different reasons, but what fortunate timing.
I'm without a group and in need of coin I'm glad I took the time to introduce myself to you. I'll gladly accept the offer thank you."
Tobias tips his hat toward lady Frost and returns a smile before her departure.
Hearing Biblo's account of what had gone on in the Old Nineteenth he tried to stifle his laughter but couldn't help let out a small snicker.
"I see it's not unheard of especially during the chaos of combat, still an interesting story if for different reasons, but what fortunate timing.
I'm without a group and in need of coin I'm glad I took the time to introduce myself to you. I'll gladly accept the offer thank you."
Re: Mournday, March 2: The Old Nineteenth
Zacharias Tar gets the directions to the Under City from Fog, asking him to repeat them a couple times to make sure he didn't fade out during any important passages. When the boy leaves, Tar turns into a seagull and flies above the streets, looking for Mother Bastet's cart.
Re: Mournday, March 2: The Old Nineteenth
Zaent Darkhand, elven criminal:
At the deathbed of Godric Greathouse, prince of thieves:
Zaent had fallen in with delvers, looking for a big enough score to finally get out. Now his old mentor was pulling him back in.
The elven criminal preferred the role of the man behind the throne. But the proposition wasn't without temptation.
"Thanks, Godric. I appreciate the offer," the elf smiled with his mouth but not with his eyes. "Before I accept it or reject it, I have a few questions:
"How will this sit with your dear, sweet daughter? There's no love lost between us, you know. Keen and ruthless as I am," he smiled sardonically, "even I'll struggle to survive a civil war and a gang war. I'd hate to be forced to kill the child of a good friend."
While Godric answered that one, Zaent silently padded over to the door and stuck his head out to see who was standing there, wanting to surprise them. If no one was there, he'd continue quietly questioning the dying underworld boss:
"Why are the Vapours coming now?" he asked, looking to confirm an answer he had bought earlier that day. "If you had to fight them, how would you beat them?"
"Alea 'lives on' where?"
"Where is your fragment? What is it? And where are the other three?"
At the deathbed of Godric Greathouse, prince of thieves:
Zaent had fallen in with delvers, looking for a big enough score to finally get out. Now his old mentor was pulling him back in.
The elven criminal preferred the role of the man behind the throne. But the proposition wasn't without temptation.
"Thanks, Godric. I appreciate the offer," the elf smiled with his mouth but not with his eyes. "Before I accept it or reject it, I have a few questions:
"How will this sit with your dear, sweet daughter? There's no love lost between us, you know. Keen and ruthless as I am," he smiled sardonically, "even I'll struggle to survive a civil war and a gang war. I'd hate to be forced to kill the child of a good friend."
While Godric answered that one, Zaent silently padded over to the door and stuck his head out to see who was standing there, wanting to surprise them. If no one was there, he'd continue quietly questioning the dying underworld boss:
"Why are the Vapours coming now?" he asked, looking to confirm an answer he had bought earlier that day. "If you had to fight them, how would you beat them?"
"Alea 'lives on' where?"
"Where is your fragment? What is it? And where are the other three?"
-
Mister-Kent
- Ranger Knight
- Posts: 1941
- Joined: Mon Nov 03, 2014 10:17 pm
Re: Mournday, March 2: The Old Nineteenth
Zaent Darkhand, at the 13th Ward, Night Clang HQ
Godric wheezes some more, and reaches for a bottle on the table. "Ohh…of course Sable will not take it well. She has her mother's fire in her. But I know you'll work it out. She might even be able to help you access the Vapors. The best way to get to them is to attack the head, and that's Tymus and Sasha Von Klaw."
He coughs up something vile, then continues. "The Von Klaws have been expanding their business ever since the Emperor's assassination. The boy--Tymus--has aspirations of the throne, the fool. I'm sure they think taking over the underworld is the first step. Kill them and be done with it, I say."
Peeking outside, you spy Sable sitting outside the door on a wooden stool, leaning against the wall. She briefly turns towards you. She is coldly beautiful, with long black hair and a stark white streak running down the side.
As the afternoon continues, Godric passes in and out of consciousness, and explains the fragments divided. Thrawl took the beast's body, and Bar-Badon took its head. Alea took the entity's heart, and Godric took its soul, crystallized into the form of a gem.
Zachariah Tar, flying above the city (starting in the 4th Ward)
Fog restarts his directions a few times to get it right. His friend gave him a few different possible routes to go, as explained by vagrants who claim to have been to the Urchin Queen's court themselves.
"You know, if you are able to reach the court, and these directions prove true, I'd like to make the journey myself someday," Fog says. "If you need to find me again, I'm never more than a ward away from the Inner City."
From up in the air, you can see Bastet's cart heading south…
Godric wheezes some more, and reaches for a bottle on the table. "Ohh…of course Sable will not take it well. She has her mother's fire in her. But I know you'll work it out. She might even be able to help you access the Vapors. The best way to get to them is to attack the head, and that's Tymus and Sasha Von Klaw."
He coughs up something vile, then continues. "The Von Klaws have been expanding their business ever since the Emperor's assassination. The boy--Tymus--has aspirations of the throne, the fool. I'm sure they think taking over the underworld is the first step. Kill them and be done with it, I say."
Peeking outside, you spy Sable sitting outside the door on a wooden stool, leaning against the wall. She briefly turns towards you. She is coldly beautiful, with long black hair and a stark white streak running down the side.
As the afternoon continues, Godric passes in and out of consciousness, and explains the fragments divided. Thrawl took the beast's body, and Bar-Badon took its head. Alea took the entity's heart, and Godric took its soul, crystallized into the form of a gem.
Zachariah Tar, flying above the city (starting in the 4th Ward)
Fog restarts his directions a few times to get it right. His friend gave him a few different possible routes to go, as explained by vagrants who claim to have been to the Urchin Queen's court themselves.
"You know, if you are able to reach the court, and these directions prove true, I'd like to make the journey myself someday," Fog says. "If you need to find me again, I'm never more than a ward away from the Inner City."
Re: Mournday, March 2: The Old Nineteenth
Gul-Marach considers them both. "I would have both of you join me for this descent, as there are many who will need to be ministered to below. Would you each commit to serving the people at the heart of Vorn's city, remaining to dedicate yourselves there?"Matron leaves for a moment and returns with two possible allies for this journey--Sister Krystyn of the Sisterhood of Rust and Acolyte Gachard, who wasn't Elliya's first choice but eagerly volunteered, emboldened by your lecture.
Each of them might provide different responses to this test, he considers. If Krystyn proves true, she will likely balk as she shows her dedication to Elliya's service and likely desires to be at her side. That wariness and loyalty would serve well against the treachery they must face, ensuring word got back to the Cathedral. Gachard has promise in his zeal, but it is a flame that must be forged and tempered in the iron furnace. Passion for Vorn and zeal for service is more inspirational to the lay folk who must be won over by his actions below, but we must see if he is hardened enough to resist the agents and deceits. Perhaps Biblo and Zaent can test their mettle.
Once the volunteers have gathered, he ventures to the Guild Hall, seeking Zachariah Tar especially, but also the others. Tar is most likely to know the way of the urchins, he muses. He shares with them the duty requested by the church. Leading the entourage to the Urchin Queen and the reward of 2,000gp, as well as her recommendation to enter somewhere near the Harbor of Grudges--'provided you not drown on the way down, you will land in a place of relative peace. From there, head south…and down. You will find the Urchin Queen's court there.'
Re: Mournday, March 2: The Old Nineteenth
Ballar Uh, fighter/assassin
Ballar Uh and Dena make it back to the Guildhall. They say goodbye to each other and retreat to their chambers.
By the time Gul-Marach, the iron-willed servant of Vorn arrives to the Delvers', Ballar Uh is sitting in the common room. A huge, torn, battle-worn map is laid out before him on the table. This piece of archaic cartography must have spent many hours folded up in the man-monster's back pocket... Hand-drawn signs and corrections (but no discernible writing) cover its surface. Recent markings (a crudely drawn skull and an 'X') appeared on the Olde 18th as well - Ballar Uh is recording the changes in the cities. Three concentric circles and a question mark are now in the area of the 48th Ward. The same sign of concentric circles was drawn many years ago at the place of the Mistress Alea's tower...
Ballar Uh's hand is hovering over the map, motionless. Looks like he's been stuck in this posture for the last quarter of an hour. When Gul-Marach enters, Ballar Uh stirs from his stasis and his hazy eyes turn toward the priest.
"...bring a gift. Don't go empty-handed," he says, then his voice changes: "Gul-Marach, blessings of rain."
Ballar Uh and Dena make it back to the Guildhall. They say goodbye to each other and retreat to their chambers.
By the time Gul-Marach, the iron-willed servant of Vorn arrives to the Delvers', Ballar Uh is sitting in the common room. A huge, torn, battle-worn map is laid out before him on the table. This piece of archaic cartography must have spent many hours folded up in the man-monster's back pocket... Hand-drawn signs and corrections (but no discernible writing) cover its surface. Recent markings (a crudely drawn skull and an 'X') appeared on the Olde 18th as well - Ballar Uh is recording the changes in the cities. Three concentric circles and a question mark are now in the area of the 48th Ward. The same sign of concentric circles was drawn many years ago at the place of the Mistress Alea's tower...
Ballar Uh's hand is hovering over the map, motionless. Looks like he's been stuck in this posture for the last quarter of an hour. When Gul-Marach enters, Ballar Uh stirs from his stasis and his hazy eyes turn toward the priest.
"...bring a gift. Don't go empty-handed," he says, then his voice changes: "Gul-Marach, blessings of rain."
G A M E S :
Running Vaults & Wastelands [Fallout]
Isaiah Bartlett in That Which Should Not Be [CoC]
Ingrid Esthof in The Horror at Briarsgate [1e]
Jónas Gillman in The Sinister Secret of Saltmarsh [1e]
I N A C T I V E : (
Ballar Uh in Dungeonesque [LL/AEC]
Favrick in The Rise of Smaug [BW]
Running Vaults & Wastelands [Fallout]
Isaiah Bartlett in That Which Should Not Be [CoC]
Ingrid Esthof in The Horror at Briarsgate [1e]
Jónas Gillman in The Sinister Secret of Saltmarsh [1e]
I N A C T I V E : (
Ballar Uh in Dungeonesque [LL/AEC]
Favrick in The Rise of Smaug [BW]
Re: Mournday, March 2: The Old Nineteenth
Zaent Darkhand, elven criminal:
At the deathbed of Godric Greathouse:
Upon hearing of the gem, Zaent was careful to keep his voice low and his face devoid of expression as he repeated his questions, idly:
"Alea 'lives on' where?"
"Where is your fragment? Do you know the locations of the other three?"
After hearing the answers, the mercenary elf stepped back out into the hall and bowed low with just a trace of mockery. "Sable, my dear, won't you please grace us with your beauty? You'll be able to hear much better in here," he smiled.
MK: Has Zaent ever heard Ballar Uh talking about his deceased mistress, Alea? Thanks.
At the deathbed of Godric Greathouse:
Upon hearing of the gem, Zaent was careful to keep his voice low and his face devoid of expression as he repeated his questions, idly:
"Alea 'lives on' where?"
"Where is your fragment? Do you know the locations of the other three?"
After hearing the answers, the mercenary elf stepped back out into the hall and bowed low with just a trace of mockery. "Sable, my dear, won't you please grace us with your beauty? You'll be able to hear much better in here," he smiled.
MK: Has Zaent ever heard Ballar Uh talking about his deceased mistress, Alea? Thanks.