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Bastard Son of the great-grandchild of the sister's gibbon's friend of the nephew of the Campaign that Would Not Die, now in 3.75e
Møøse Trained By: Hugh Foster
Møøse Trained By: Hugh Foster
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Bastard Son of the great-grandchild of the sister's gibbon's friend of the nephew of the Campaign that Would Not Die, now in 3.75e Møøse Trained By: Hugh Foster |
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Settling in, the Tanks set off to get to know Armush. Despite the terrible wound running across the landscape, the city was vibrant and busy, with craftsmen, shops and other places of interest and people in the streets. Always, horses, and in some cases truly splendid horses.
Their first call was the Mageguild, which unlike the modest one of Utkinton comprised several towers surrounded by a campus-like complex of buildings. Unsure of where to go, they hailed a passing student, whose mind was clearly on the esoteric until Borax grabbed his collar and loomed at him. His books went everywhere as he stuttered out an answer. They took pity on his youthful beard, and Ruby gathered his books while Borax actually wiped his face with a wet hanky. Encouraged, the student led them to the Trading Hall and dropped them off.
The Hall was more like an open market, with sturdy pillars supporting a portico roof, allowing temporary booths to be set up inside. Several were open this day, and the pair wandered from one to the other, examining the wares available for sale and trying to shift some of their spare equipment. Meepo took note of the wandmaker, as his Scorching Ray wand was down to twenty charges, but his recent shopping trip had burned through most of his share of the loot from Proudstone. The rings were of more interest, and eventually they picked up two Protection rings, +1 and +2; Borax commissioned the upgrading of the +1 to +2 as well. Borax sold the Ranger's Survival Knife, which he'd never felt was a lot of use.
Ruby showed the Frost Sword to the weapons specialist, who was as surprised as a Astowyr at the different results produced by Identify. He confessed himself bemused, though offered a detailed examination if Ruby desired. "My guess is that it is connected to you," he said, "either through your kind, or your profession, or your crafting."
Back in the city proper, they found their way to the shop of the best jeweller and lapidary in town - the only one - the dwarf lady Lyrdia. She greeted them warmly - very warmly in Borax' case - though a slight edge entered her voice as Ruby began to explain about the tools. On learning that Ruby intended to practice the craft in Utkinton, if at all, she became more helpful and speculated as to the reason the tools radiated more magic than seemed right. "I would say that these are tools for the shaping, making and enchanting of gems," she said thoughtfully. "But nobody does that any more," said Ruby. "No, not for thousands of years," said Lyrdia. "I'd need a book to learn how, then," said Ruby, not mentioning that she did posesses such a book.
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Back at the Olde Serpent, a riotous group was partying hard and the pair retired early. "Want anything?" said Borax to his familiar. "Eyeballs?" was the reply, and Borax took a detour to a butcher's to arrange this.
For several days they took it easy in the sleazy but comfortable Serpent; their lives had included some intense adventures recently, and the chance to relax while the snow fell on the city outside was welcome. Each day, they'd walk through the streets, mainly for 'excercise' for Brew but also to improve their familiarity with Armush. Meepo tended to go with them, while Calvis and Neithar had other things going on.
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It was the third day when a disturbance became apparent in the street, approaching them from the other direction. A group of people were forging arrogantly through the busy throughfare, roughly pushing aside those who did not shift instanter, with little care for their safety.
Four fighting-men, simple street thugs most likely, led the way, and four more in some kind of robes trailed the group. In between were three more significant-looking individuals. A man in a rather more ornate version of the robes; another in light, flexible armour and a heavy, spiked full-face helmet as worn by pit-fighters in some of the wilder parts of Stryran cities, and dominating them all, a tall lean man, easily Ruby's height, with black, scaled skin and faintly luminious slit-pupilled yellow eyes, armoured and wearing a longsword. While the expressions of the first two were merely set and determined, the last man's face was twisted with scorn and malice.
Drawing to the side, the pair watched this group cautiously, not planning on interfering with them for the moment. In turn, none of them seemed to be paying the Tanks any particular attention as they approached.
 DM Note: At this point, the Cultists started to be referred to as Wobe One to Wobe Four and the head robe as Wobe Leader. Obviously! |
Suddenly, the whole group turned right, away from the party, and stopped at a modest shop - a coopers, from the snow-covered barrels standing in the street outside. The warriors and cultists peeled off, allowing the three leaders to descend into the shop. The black-scaled man's voice boomed across the street; "Rejoice, peasant! Today is the day you sacrifice yourself to a Higher Cause!"
Ruby and Borax exchanged glances. Neither was bound to any knightly code of honour, or to any God who expected them to champion the weak or oppressed. None the less, both were craftsmen, and inclined to view assaults on the helpless as distasteful - especially Borax. "Meepo," he said, "slip over there and see if you can see what's happening." His magpie he directed up to a nearby roof. Meepo hesitated for a moment, despite his now all-day Mage Armour, before going Invisible and heading over to the shop. As he peered down the steps, a dreadful, rending screaming began to emit from inside, and the robed cultists began chanting.
Borax collared a wide-eyed lad standing near, pressing a silver tenth-mark into his hand. "Go and fetch the Guard," he said firmly, remembering what Jerigord had called them. "When you bring them back, there'll be another one." The lad took off as if his breeches were on fire, and Ruby speculated on whether they would see him again as the two set off across the road.
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As they reached the shop, Borax grabbed the nearest full-sized barrel and lifted it without much effort; a tiny corner of his mind noted the slight shift in the staves that probably meant the shopkeeper wasn't the world's best cooper. Hefting it, he approached the rather perplexed thugs now standing in a loose cordon across the front of the shop. "I want to buy this one," he declared, in a purposefully working-class accent. One of the warriors objected, and Borax spun suddenly, the barrel crashing into one of them and stretching him on his back in the snow as the other frantically danced aside, dodging flying pieces as the barrel disintegrated. He pointed at Borax, and started to say something angry which was lost in a shriek as Borax grabbed the hand and snapped the finger. Swords slid from sheaths around him as Ruby moved in from the left; from inside the screams mounted further and a horrible sizzling noise became audible.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Ruby commented calmly to the man in front of her, and Borax topped that off with a cry of "Here come the Watch!" which mixture caused a round of quick glances up and down the street. This proved fatal as Borax' huge flail came off his back and whipped in a swift figure-eight, scattering two crushed corpses back into the street. The man with the maimed hand was still fighting to draw when he was driven flat to the street with a crushed skull on the backswing; the prone man put up even less resistance.
Ruby, correctly judging Borax to be in control of his situation, angled towards the robed figures. She pointed at the smashed fighting-men and snarled, "Stop, you gonvers, or I'll cut you down!" This turned out rather more effectively than she intended, as all four broke and fled down the street and out of sight.
The street in front of Borax was clear, but feet rang on the shop steps and the gladiator-type emerged, levelling a blow at the dwarf, who spun to engage, blocking the strike. Ruby, arriving delivered a deep wound that didn't seem to slow the man much, while Meepo launched a Magic Missile ant the robed man inside the shop, popping into view as he did so. His little face was drawn with shock and horror at what he saw in the shop. Th robed man snapped off a spell at him, but Meepo shook his head and threw the effects off.
Borax gripped his flail tighter and lashed out again, adding more blood to the man's uniform, while inside the voice of the scaled leader rose in an infuriated scream, snarling words in a language none of the party recognized. Ruby noticed his right hand was covered in what she recognized as blood and guts; but blackened and burned onto his skin, as if burned onto the bottom of a roasting dish. He lifted his clawed, glowing hands and moved forwards. Borax and Ruby exchanged blows with the two, Ruby noticing that the Frost Sword's cold damage produced more of a frostbitten edge to the wounds than normal. His blood was black. "Did that hurt?" she taunted as a Magic Missile slapped into the thing. As she spoke, the sound of mailed feet at the run came to her ears. Looks as though the lad came through, she thought. Below, the robed man reached out and laid a hand on the scaled warrior's shoulder, casting a spell - but a sudden movement from his target spoiled whatever the spell was.
Borax put the gladiator down, and matched blows with the scaled man, though neither could breach the other's guard. Ruby got through, and noticed that as her sword passed close to him, the cold mist it trailed seemed to condense into a tiny spray of water. Hot, she mused. Then the robed man got his hand onto the warrior's shoulder again - and both vanished.
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The arrival of the Guard, which could perhaps have been embarrassing, was smoothed by witness accounts from the remaining bystanders, and especially the boy who had come back with them - for his tenth - and was happy to confirm who'd sent him for help. At Ruby's urgent suggestion, the sergeant sent four men after the fled cultists.
The unfortunate cooper was very, very dead; spread all over his pathetic shop, and well-cooked into the bargain. There seemed to be nothing in the place to suggest why he had been targeted; though anything made of paper was scorched at least and mostly burned. The dead gladiator had magical armour, which Ruby claimed, though the sergeant made a point that if it was needed for the investigation, he'd want it back. He took details of the pair's names, homes, purpose in the city and so on, and requested they stay in Armush "until all this is cleared up," which they privately thought might just take some time. He also had a peculiar tattoo on one arm, which both the Guard and Borax recorded; the Guard with a sketch and Borax by removing the section of skin.
Thinking back [with two natural 20s!], the pair realized that the group had selected the shop on purpose, rather than simply randomly picking on someone.
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Session Date: 7th October 2026 |
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