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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 |
The next morning, a messenger arrived from the Town Guard, a youth in a Guard tabard, his eyes like saucers as the 'girls' gathered around him and teasingly flirted. He seemed greatly relieved to be able to deliver his message; "Captain Aldakos requests your presence at the guard house," before fleeing in blushing confusion. "He'll be back one day," laughed one of the 'girls'. Borax asked if they ever saw the Captain in the Serpent, to which the answer was, "Never! I think he's gay!" Another 'girl' pondered for a moment before suggesting, "Maybe he actually likes his wife?" to some headshaking from the others.
Ruby and Borax unhurriedly continued their breakfast and routine, before Ruby sauntered up to find the Guard. The ducal palace stood in the centre of Armush, surrounded by a ring of fortifications which housed the garrison. Part of that was the Guard House, where the city guard arm of the Duke's Guard had their HQ. She had some fun with the guards before admitting who she was, and being escorted in to see Guard Captain Aldakos. At first glance too young for such a role, he proved to be a half-elf.
"Thank you for coming," he greeted her. He tapped a paper on his desk; “Lt. Jerigord’s report from Duskbie speaks well of your prompt actions there,” he continued. “I’ve never trusted oracles; for me, they’re better off without that Stone. I understand you have some kind of similar item?” "Not the same," said Ruby shortly. “Not something I’d rely upon if I had any choice,” answered Aldakos.
“Anyway,” he continued, “I thought you’d like to know what we have discovered. Our forensic cleric Tonbury had a good look at our late, lamented, barbecued barrelmaker Kyraper. There wasn’t much to go on, but he was able to reconstruct some of a tattoo or mark on his arm, matching the one on that pit fighter you killed. Oh, by the way, you may keep that armour, we won’t need it.” “We’ve tried informants we have around town, but either they seem really not to recognize it, or they go very pale and clam right up on seeing it. I’ve seldom seen people that frightened.”
“We did manage to run down one of those cultist fellows last night. Annoyingly, he killed himself before we could bag him. He has the tattoo as well. We’re planning to try Speak with Dead on his wretched remains, and we’d welcome any insights you two might have if you’d be willing to be present?”
Ruby nodded, hinted that a dinner would be expected as payment, and headed back across town to update Borax on this. After some hesitation, they headed back over - Borax in his "on holiday" clothes - and were shown to a different part of the Guard HQ. This was a large, bare stone room below ground level, with a barred door and a large steel table bolted to the floor. While it looked like a forensic room, it was quite probable that ... forceful ... questioning could be carried out here as well.
On the table lay the corpse of the cultist, a great jagged slash across his throat. Waiting for them was a short, rather burly man with a weatherbeaten face, dressed in the blue-green robes of a priest of Lyr, Triad God of the Sea, Chaos and Judgement. A plain short spear stood in a corner. "This is Trevor," introduced Aldakos. Trevor nodded as the Captain introduced the Tanks, then turned to the corpse. "If this works," he explained, "we - I - will get to ask the shadow of his memories lingering on the corpse four questions within eight minutes. It will know only what he did up until his death, and will not react intelligently."
With a few rather wild gestures, he worked the magic of the Speak with Dead spell. A shimmering outline of the man's face appeared above the physical one, and settled into place. Trevor nodded to the three witnesses to provide questions.
The shimmer faded as the spell ended. "Not bad," said Aldakos. "Could do with more," said Ruby. "What about the pit fighter, or one of the thugs?" suggested Borax. "The thugs were just alleybashers," said Aldakos, "no tattoos. We have the gladiator," and he sent for the corpse of man they'd slain the previous day, his now-pale wounds gaping obscenely and the square of bared flesh on his arm where the tattoo had been plainly obvious.
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Once more Trevor cast his spell, then shook his head as it faded away. "Whatever afterlife he enjoys now does not want to release him, I fear." Aldakos cursed quietly. They were just turning away when the corpse began to undergo a horriffic transformation. Gradually, it slumped, softened and melted into an amorphous mass of flesh, which heaved and pulsated, then mounded up to extrude a vaguely humanoid head, neck, shoulders of loose flesh. A pair of anguished eyes flicked open and the creature lunged at the startled Trevor.
Borax and Ruby reacted like lightning. Borax - rather atypically unarmed - grabbed Trevor's spear and jabbed at the thing twice, holding the spear in the wound the second time to keep it at bay as the Frost Sword curved up and across to slash the misshapen head off. She noted as it bounced that there seemed to be no cold damage on the wound edges; but the thing was definitely dead. She shuddered slightly; she could swear that the instant before her blow fell, there had been a look of gratitude in the thing's eyes.
Trevor regained his balance, a bit wide-eyed. "That spell doesn't work like that," he said shakily. "I think, Captain, that dinner for our friends here is on the Church of Lyr. Do you like fish?"
Aldakos nodded, as Borax addressed him. "Are you sending coppers to the address?" Aldakos glanced at the still-shuddering fleshy mess. "A strong force I think," he agreed.
Half an hour later, having looped back to the Serpent to tool up properly, Borax and Ruby reached the address. After studying it covertly for a while, and checking the rear for access, Borax went inside and talked to the tailor, actually ordering a basic suit as well as enquiring about the apartments, saying he was looking for one. The tailor described the occupants as "quiet, keep to themselves," but frowned, clearly unable to recall any details about them. Borax advised him to keep his head down for an hour.
When the Guard arrived, they broke in to the door next to the shop and hurried up the stairs. There, they found a small, nearly bare apartment with a few signs of occupation; some bricks arranged to shape a shrine, though empty of anything identifying, some loose bits of parchment, a couple of spare weapons. The fireplace had been lit up to an hour or two ago. A loose panel opened to a small space, wherein were six heavy brass rings with a "D" surrounded by curly carving. "Thieves' Guild," commented an older Guardsman. "Arrested a few of them. They don't look right, though, might be fakes." "Who's in charge there?" asked Ruby. "The Dun Man. Five years or so, good run for a Master."
The man knew roughly where the Guild was located, and the Tanks considered ways to make contact. The idea of having Meepo wander around with a big obvious bag of coins was hatched, though Meepo himself was deeply unenthusiastic about it. Then they decided to go and see Lansen at Lynien's temple.
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A service was in progress as they entered, and Ruby dropped a few marks on the floor, to see what the reaction would be. Her eyebrows rose as the coins slid across the floor all by themselves and disappeared into an opening. As the worshippers dispersed, Lansen came across to them with a grin. "Thank you for your return," he said, referring to the tenet of the faith that everything valuable belonged to Lynien; only the time she decided to claim it varied.
They related the events of the day to him, and handed him one of the rings. "Not real, are they?" said Ruby. "How did you know?" asked Lansen. "The police," answered Ruby. "Aldakos is a good man," commented Lansen absently thinking over what he'd been told. Lynien had had some spies in the Thieves' Guild, but they'd all died around three weeks ago. Coins and Gatherers did die in service, like any thieves, but the rate was up. He'd not heard of the Placeless. He could, however, direct them accurately to the Thieves' Guild. He'd met the Dun Man once, and was able to describe him.
When the thing into which the gladiator had deliquesced was described, his eyes widened. "That was a lemure," he said in a troubled voice, "the form into which souls damned to the Nine Hells are put. It sounds like, whoever the Placeless are, they have a diabolist on the strength."
Three of the belts were ready, and Borax, Ruby and Meepo kitted out with them.
On reaching the Thieves' Guild, there was a period of banter with the 'guards' casually slouching around the entrance, which they could see was artfully disguised as a slum but actually built very robustly in stone, with artfully concealed murder holes and loopholes and a very stout door. After some sparring and mutual intimidation, they were guided inside into a room where a pleasant-faced man in his thirties - old for a city thief - matching the description sat waiting, with several bodyguards behind him.
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The Tanks explained that there were probably fake thieves trying to take over, and offered the fake rings and sight of the skin sample as verification. "Do you trust your men?" asked Ruby. The Dun Man laughed a bit at that, and his rather cavalier attitude began to irritate Ruby; but he listened, and had his advisors expose their left arms to prove their lack of the tattoo.
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As they described what, for the moment, they could only refer to as 'the black man', one of the lesser thieves piped up, "I've seen him in the city, from a distance. Thought he looked odd, even for here. Looked dangerous as well."
Ruby bounced the fake ring across the table, and the Dun Man caught it in mid-flight with dazzling speed. "There were six of these," she commented. "You may want to check your membership."
Back at the Serpent that evening, Neithar had adjusted his routine to better suit the clientele, and receieved a rousing reception and a fair number of coins for his performance.
The next day they went and updated the Guard with what they'd learned - including the location of the Thieves' Guild, which it seemed was not a surprise. Clever Trevor took them for dinner at Stanmos' Fish Restaurant, and proved a lively and entertaining companion. He offered a simple blessing, at which it occurred to Borax to ask him if he knew who the Traveller was. "I sense a capital T there," said Trevor. "Not a name I know."
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The asking of the question produced an idea, for which they needed willing bodies. Naturally, they returned to the Serpent... A scatter of marks focussed the attention of the 'girls' and one, Muriel, was handed the jar. She eyed the floating eyeball dubiously, but whoring seemed to produce a strong stomach. When she shook it, the resounding "Ask!" brought the attention of everyone in the place; business was slow in the day, after all. She glanced enquiringly at the pair for the question they wanted to ask. "Who are the Placeless?" she was told, and repeated.
There was silence.
After a moment, the girl handed the jar back and shrugged. "Was it supposed to say something?" she asked, looking at the stunned faces of Borax and Ruby. "Er, yes, actually," said Ruby. The others seemed to think this was a great game; "Can I try?" "No, me, me!" It was handed to Gladys, who asked "Why did you not answer Muriel?" which was also replied to with silence. Muriel and Gladys both (rather expertly) shook it again, receieving no prompt, so they had clearly had their Question.
Phyllis was handed the jar. "What is the landlord of the Serpent's surname?" she asked. "Broadtree" was the answer. "It's not broken, then," said Borax.
Tammy shook the jar; "What are the Traveller's Blessings?" she asked, giggling a bit as it sounded like a euphemism. The answer "Changes to probability when you are most in need of them," left the 'girls' puzzled and wasn't entirely clear to the Tanks either.
Janice asked "Why are there some questions you will not answer?" "To protect the interests of my Maker." Carline was handed the jar and "Who is your Maker?" to which silence was not a surprising response. Likewise, Desiree got nothing back for "Is your Maker one of the Placeless?" and Sissy the same for "Can you tell us the name of the Black Man" [Actually, it was a tossup whether the answer for that should have been "No" but silence is more in line with the others]
Clearly, the Eye of Insight, hitherto utterly infallible, had a blind spot...
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Session Date: 19th October 2026 |
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