Bloodmäter

[teh bunneh]

Bloodmäter.

 

It was born of a dream.

 

A city, ancient and decadent, that sits on the edge of a cliff with no bottom. No man lives that knows the secrets of what lies below the mists that lap at the edge of cliff

 

Airships ply the skies, bringing in exotic trade goods from faraway lands. Caravans, the backs of their great lizards piled high with treasures, cross the dangerous desert lands that surround the city on three sides.

 

Bloodmäter is of enormous size. No census has ever been taken, and much of the population is transient. There are other villages and towns that cling to the sides of the great cliff, though they are fewer and fewer as you get further from Bloodmäter. As far as the people of this city are concerned, Bloodmäter is the center of the world and everything else is little more than a legend.

 

Bloodmäter is a lawless and dangerous city, filled with cutthroats and madmen. There are those who say its ruler is insane, driven mad by some horrible curse. There are others who say it doesn’t have a ruler at all; it’s hard to say which option would be worse.

 

The mist that fills the void beneath the city is regarded with fear. Few who go into the mist are ever seen again, and those that do return are usually driven mad by the experience. People sometimes swear they can hear unintelligible voices rising up from the mist. The mist has “tides,” rising and falling with some regularity; sometimes, it rises up further and creeps into the lower reaches of Bloodmäter. The poor people and dregs who live in these lower reaches hide indoors on those nights, praying for dawn to come.

 

Those who are driven insane by the mist are known as the Mist-touched, and are regarded with superstitious fear. Wise men avoid the Mist-touched if they can, but no one dares harm them lest they put upon you a terrible curse. Some people view them as prophets, given visions by the gods, and seek them out – but the gift of foresight comes at a terrible cost which most people regret paying.

 

Flight is common – it's how people get around in a world with so little ground to walk on. Ships fly on huge balloons of gas or great wings or magical engines. There are also great bridges and walkways that people can use, travelling along the cliff face and between the great islands of rock that dot the mist sea. The traveler should be warned, however. The skies around Bloodmäter are rife with piracy, and her caravan trails are thick with bandits and other ne’er-do-wells.

[teh bunneh]

Comments welcome!

 

This is a fantasy campaign I just started for my group. I'll be posting my notes and whatnot for it. I'm sort of making this one up as I go along. Usually when I run, I spend a lot of time building the world, the history, the religions, etc. This time, I just gave my players the above description and let them run with it.

 

More notes to come...

[teh bunneh]

Re: Bloodmäter

 

Because of the lawless nature of Bloodmäter, people generally have to solve their own problems. But when a problem becomes too big for them to handle on their own, they will often pool their resources and hire a group of Troubleshooters to take care of the problem...

 

The heroes are:

Brontus Rexx: A barbarian from a far-off land, kidnapped by slavers at a young age and forced to fight in the gladiatorial pits. Recently freed from bondage and seeking a new life.

Cleo: A tiefling paladin, servant of the goddess of death. She is trying to atone for a terrible crime she committed as a youth.

Rody Falcos: Elven ne'er-do-well and con artist. He's the son of a wealthy merchant; he was left behind when the caravan master decided he'd had enough of the young rascal's shenanigans.

Hakkoz Stoneshanks: A dwarven priest, his tragic past has shaped him into the bold hero he is today.

Alix Twilight: An animalistic shaman from the deep deserts that surround Bloodmäter on 3 sides; she can barely contain the bestial fury within her.

Berrian Wildheart: A cheerful young gnome wizard; apprentice to the most powerful and famous wizard in the city.

[Shadowsoul]

Re: Bloodmäter

 

Interesting. You might find the Deepgate Codex useful as a source of ideas. Scar Night, the first book, in particular.

[Enforcer84]

Re: Bloodmäter

 

I wannna play!

[Lonewalker]

Re: Bloodmäter

 

I wannna play!

 

Well, we could use another Defender character. Our Strikers are routinely getting creamed every fight.

 

- Lonewalker

[Lonewalker]

Re: Bloodmäter

 

Because of the lawless nature of Bloodmäter, people generally have to solve their own problems. But when a problem becomes too big for them to handle on their own, they will often pool their resources and hire a group of Troubleshooters to take care of the problem...

 

Ten years ago, a crack adventuring unit was sent to prison by a military court for a crime they didn't commit. These men and women promptly escaped from a maximum security stockade to the Bloodmäter underground. Today, still wanted by the government, they survive as soldiers of fortune. If you have a problem, if no one else can help, and if you can find them, maybe you can hire... The Troubleshooters.

 

 

- Lonewalker

[Mirgos]

Re: Bloodmäter

 

The set up reminds me of one of the Final Fantasy games (9 I think) with plateaus rising above a mist where monsters dwell - was this an influence?

[teh bunneh]

Re: Bloodmäter

 

The set up reminds me of one of the Final Fantasy games (9 I think) with plateaus rising above a mist where monsters dwell - was this an influence?

 

Never played any version of FF, so probably not. It's possible I've seen screenshots at some point, so maybe a sub-conscious influence.

[Markdoc]

Re: Bloodmäter

 

The set up reminds me of one of the Final Fantasy games (9 I think) with plateaus rising above a mist where monsters dwell - was this an influence?

 

Never played any version of FF' date=' so probably not. It's possible I've seen screenshots at some point, so maybe a sub-conscious influence.[/quote']

 

It's also possible that the idea lends itself to fantasy. I've never played FF, but one of the many ideas doodled down in my potential campaigns ideas sounds a lot like the FF thing you described: a world composed of mountains and plateaus rising out of the mist. The humans live in the sunlands, the fae down in the endless forests of the mist. The idea was to have separate kingdoms, where most of the travel between kingdoms, and most warfare - apart from a few of the larger plateaus - was by flying mount and airship. Travel in the mistlands was dangerous! (though attractive to the misguided adventurers who venture there in search of riches )

 

The background idea was that humans had come to this world long ago, only to find that a) it had its own sentient face, the shapeshifting, sun-shy (and iron-allergic) fae and it had very little of the heavier metals accessible in the higher elevations. Hence metal was in short supply: their own metal-based culture swiftly collapsed and a new society adapted to its setting has evolved. To some extent "magical talent" (actually psionics) acquired from interbreeding with the fae over the centuries, has compensated and the scarcity of metal armor meant various martial arts are the staple of most warriors.

 

Basically, the intended genre was rubber-science planetary romance: cue kung-fu fightin' psionic air pirates!

 

cheers, Mark

[matrix3]

Re: Bloodmäter

 

It's also possible that the idea lends itself to fantasy. I've never played FF, but one of the many ideas doodled down in my potential campaigns ideas sounds a lot like the FF thing you described: a world composed of mountains and plateaus rising out of the mist. The humans live in the sunlands, the fae down in the endless forests of the mist. The idea was to have separate kingdoms, where most of the travel between kingdoms, and most warfare - apart from a few of the larger plateaus - was by flying mount and airship. Travel in the mistlands was dangerous! (though attractive to the misguided adventurers who venture there in search of riches )

 

The background idea was that humans had come to this world long ago, only to find that a) it had its own sentient face, the shapeshifting, sun-shy (and iron-allergic) fae and it had very little of the heavier metals accessible in the higher elevations. Hence metal was in short supply: their own metal-based culture swiftly collapsed and a new society adapted to its setting has evolved. To some extent "magical talent" (actually psionics) acquired from interbreeding with the fae over the centuries, has compensated and the scarcity of metal armor meant various martial arts are the staple of most warriors.

 

Basically, the intended genre was rubber-science planetary romance: cue kung-fu fightin' psionic air pirates!

 

cheers, Mark

I'd play in that!

 

And: more notes from the Bunneh, please!

[Lethosos]

Re: Bloodmäter

 

...for a moment there, I thought you were running a Brutal Legend game in the Age of Metal.

 

What? The name has an umlaut.

[teh bunneh]

Re: Bloodmäter

 

Character: Alix Twilight

Alix was born to Olissa of the Goldenbrood line of the Nighthane, clan a lineage traced in deep-song back one thousand years, and in legend all the way back to the founding of the world, before the gods withdrew to the astral realm. She was her mother's first child and guarantor of the matrilineal line. She was brought to the tribal circle for name-bonding, but before the council could quicken her soul with a name, the shaman, Gert'tal declared that she was mooncalled, destined to tread the beast path, and fated for a great doom. "She will stand astride the fissure between two worlds, and by the expense of her blood shall an age of reckoning end."

Olissa was horrified. Her brother, Hurel, had been mooncalled, and when the beast inside him called he proved unable to resist. He became a feral creature, living and hunting at on the fringes of the clan's ever-shifting territory. Olissa decided to fight destiny. She fled the camp with her unnamed child, casting herself into irredeemable exile. She made her way to Bloodmater, a place so unnatural that she believed the mooncall could not find her daughter there, and gave her a city name, Alix, after a famous priestess of a sun cult, the celestial opposite of the moon.

Alix grew up knowing nothing of her past, for her mother declined to teach her the Goldenbrood deep-song, though it meant the end to a thousand year heritage. Yet at age six, Alix felt the stirring of a strange magic. She could hear the speech of animals, of plants, and even of stone, though she could not understand their languages. Olissa was appalled. She had worked so hard to keep Alix safe, but the magic seemed to be coming from within her. Olissa used a dangerous magic talisman called a leethestone to erase Alix's memory of the beast languages.

Twelve years later, when Alix was 18 she was captured by slavers while traveling across the desert with the acrobatic troupe to which she was apprenticed. Being young and beautiful she was subjected to the worst sort of torments her captors' small minds could imagine. Her soul retreated deep inside and awakened the beast that had been pinned under the leethestone. She crawled under the leethestone, forgetting herself and unleashing the beast. The beast slew the worst of her tormentors and then fled into the desert.

The beast spent two years living in the desert until Gert'tal found her. He befriended her as a beast and removed the leethstone from her mind, allowing her traumatized rational mind to surface. Alix spent a year with Gert'tal who told her on the prophecy and taught her to sing the songs of beasts, plants, and stones. He also gave her her long neglected clan name, Twilight, "for one who lives between two worlds." When she asked him what she should do, he asked her what she wanted to do. She wanted to go home. But where is home? In her heart she does not know. She feels like a great tree with no roots, ready to topple in a stiff breeze. Gert'tal told her to seek out her mother and learn her deep-song, and so she returned to Bloodmater only to find her mother missing, apparently having set off in search of Alix...

[teh bunneh]

Re: Bloodmäter

 

Character: Cleo, Paladin of the Raven Queen

Physical Description: Cleo is young, in her late teens/early twenties. She is tall, 6’2”, and has a strong toned build. She has swept back black horns that act as a helmet with long dark blue hair bound behind her back in a thick braid. Her eyes are silver orbs, her teeth are sharp and give her a wicked smile. Her skin is a dark reddish-brown.. She dresses in black silver plate mail, carved with archaic symbols. Her shield bears the holy symbol of the Raven Queen and she fights with a war pick.

 

The Prophecy: On the day I was born, a Mist-touched wandered into our house.

Ninth of Nine, of Nine.

Thrice blessed, thrice cursed, thrice divided.

Brought down low, raised up high.

Fist to darkness, first to light.

Raven Queen to redeem, Raven Queen to demean.

No one was sure what he meant and most ignored the interruption. However, I am the ninth daughter of a ninth daughter. I grow up in a large extended family of Tieflings. I am also currently in the service of the Raven Queen.

 

The Lower Levels of Bloodmater: Bloodmater is a large sprawling city, both horizontally and vertically. I grew up in the lower parts of the city. That’s the part most honest folks avoid, and we avoid the mists. My eight sisters and I learned the maze of streets and alleys and how to navigate them. We also learned the secrets of this level. This has served me well in the service of the Raven Queen. I returned here after my training in the upper levels. All my sisters have left the city to find their own way. I feel bound here; my duty and destiny are here.

 

The Dark Secret: I wasn’t always in the service of the Raven Queen. Five years ago I was part of a Trouble Shooting group hired the Lady Quentessa to retrieve a treasure from a crypt deep into and down the cliff under Bloodmater. I was hired because of my knowledge of the area. It tuned out the crypt belonged to a high priest of the Raven Queen, and the treasure was his death mask. We went down there when the mist was at its lowest point so as to avoid the dangers it brings. This was also the time for a ceremony honoring the high priest. My companions refused to wait until the ceremony was over, for fear the mist would rise and trap us. The acolytes didn’t stand a chance against us. We retrieved our prize, but at a great loss of life. I refused payment for my part in the affair and sought out the Raven Queen for forgiveness. I swore that one day I would return the mask to where it belonged.

[teh bunneh]

Re: Bloodmäter

 

Character: Hakkoz Stoneshanks

Hakkoz did not know if it was the weeping and moaning of the newest arena slaves, or the shadows of his past that clouded his dreams, but he was awake. Through bleary, sleep deprived eyes he scanned his quarters. His eyes focused on the door. Was that someone tapping, that woke him? “What!” Came the annoyed grunt. A string of dwarven curses, like a far off thunderstorm, breathlessly rumbled out of Hakkoz. “Answer or leave!” His voice like a thunderclap. Silence. Hakkoz snorted and rolled on his side, hoping for a return to sleep. Though given his dreams of late, he wondered why he bothered.

 

“What are you doing in here boy? You’re not old enough to work in the shop.”

 

“Leave him be Harek, he’s interested in what you do.” Zinchee pipped in. A sturdy, warm faced Hobbit stood in contrast next to Harek. Both men looking down at the young Hakkoz. “ Even at this age he seems a capable worker Harek, let him watch.” Zinchee had been and for a long time would be Hakkoz’s best ally.

 

“No!” Harek’s voice boomed. Startling his Hobbit business partner who, after all these years, was normally used to his gruff nature. “Come away from him Zinchee, we’ve work to do.” Harek said, turning from Hakkoz. “This ship won’t build it’s self.”

 

Zinchee gave Hakkoz a warm smile and sighed. “Go find Tweela. She was looking for you. I think she had a new trick to show you.”

 

“Zin! Now!” Harek’s voice exploded. Zinchee tussled Hakkoz’s hair and chuckled, giving him another kind smile, he jerked is head toward the shop door.

 

“OooOOoo” Grozz mocked. “Going off with Tweela again?” As long as Hakkoz could remember, Grozz, his elder brother, found some way to turn any thing he did in to an opportunity to taunt. “Still playing sissy games with that halfling witch! Ha! Shouldn’t you be in the temple?”

 

Hakkoz’s blood pulsed hot through his body. He lurched forward, growling like a mad dog, when Tweela’s gentle hand touched his arm. Instantly calming him. Her soft voice whispering soothing words in his ear. She smiled, turned her gaze to Gorzz. His smug demeanor vanished, he muttered some derogatory remark and left. Hakkoz was in love with Tweela. He could never understand why. She was a Hobbit, Zinchee’s daughter, but she managed to put a glamour on him. She was his muse. Tweela even taught him about the arcane arts she was so talented with. She always brought out his ability to create new personal flyer ideas. Their latest was one enchanted with colored lights and sparks that would stream behind and dance about the flyer as it cut through the sky.

 

A terrified shriek dragged Hakkoz back to his chamber. Groaning, he turned again. He didn’t want to imagine what was happening to that poor sod, that yelped. Awake again, he decided get up. It would be morning soon and he’d have to be about his work. He didn’t mind patching up these slaves. They battled in the arena and he’d put back together what he could. The arena masters would not let him use his devine abilities to heal them. His purpose here was to learn how to heal with mundane skills. Being an acolyte of Kord, Hakkoz enjoyed the opportunity to hone his battle skills as well. Hopping down from his cot, Hakkoz limped across the floor to his wash basin. The pain was always worse in the morning, especially cold ones like this. It’s times like these that caused him to reflect on how he got this way.

 

The crash of the ‘Bright Star’ flyer, he and Tweela, had made. How he spent a week at the bottom of a crevice, hoping for some kind of rescue. Terribly wounded and weak from hunger he had given up calling for help after the third day. He could feel that both his legs were broken and he had a large gash on his forehead. He remembered Tweela had been flying with him, but he could not see her, or recall where she had fallen. In one of his semi-conscious hazes, he had a vague sensation of floating up. Also he believed he saw a shining star, a very odd looking star, hovering above his head.

 

Hakkoz woke to the thundering boom of his fathers voice. “This! This is why he should have been in the temple! It is our tradition!” Harek huffed.” He is the second son and goes to Moradin’s Temple. Why hasn’t he?” he said gruffly, wagging an accusatory finger at Hakkoz.

 

“Harek,” came Zinchee’s unusually firm voice, “don’t yell at Moira.” Harek began to grind his teeth. One could almost hear his blood coming to a boil. Exasperated, Zinchee continued, “Harek, old friend, I , more than anyone kept Hakkoz here. He was so good in the airship shop and a... well.. good pilot, not great, but good... uh anyway, if you’re going to blame someone ,pick me, not your wife.” Harek roared, raised his fist, threatening to bring a crushing blow to Zinchee. He stood his ground, with his typical gentle smile, calming the furious dwarf. Harek stormed out of the room, knocking over furniture on his way out.

 

Zinchee tuned and looked down at Hakkoz in his bed, then spoke to Moira. “He should go to temple. I suppose Harek is right. I’ve meddled too much.” Moira nodded. Sighing, Zinchee continued, “ If he is to go, we should not ignore fate though. It was a priest of Kord who found and saved him.”

 

Moira’s head raised, “ye..Yes I suppose.. Harek shouldn’t mind that.. Kord is an honorable god.. His father worshiped Kord...” She trailed off as she turned to tend to Hakkoz. “Moira, why didn’t Harek allow him to be properly healed?”

 

“You know that well enough Zin.” Zinchee snorted, “Oh yeah. ‘Stupid should hurt.’or so says Harek.”

 

The cold water focused Hakkoz’s mind. He was full awake now. This morning he made a decision, he would hang up his acolyte robe and take on orders. Going forth to make something of himself. The past was the past. He’d have his limp and scars to remind him of it. Now was time to make a future. Perhaps he’d even discover what had happened to Tweela. Why Zinchee no longer spoke of her, or where she had disappeared to.

[Enforcer84]

Re: Bloodmäter

 

Nice characters...hmm perhaps you'd not want me as a player after all

[teh bunneh]

Re: Bloodmäter

 

BRONTUS REXX, Barbarian Warrior

Background: Brontus was born to the nomadic tribes that roam the Kragmor, a rough-hewn island in the Mists covered with hot, dry wasteland and clusters of jagged mountain ranges. As a child, Brontus was groomed as a hunter for the tribe, learning how to stalk and kill the herds of gronto beasts or tame the giant lizards - all while avoiding the roving packs of desert hyenas and sand serpents. His was the Howling Thunder clan and his childhood was a hard but happy one.

 

That changed when the clan's wanderings brought them to the Edge-City of Cauldron, a merchant town established by neighboring kingdoms on the border of the Kragmor where skyships could stop and trade with the wasteland nomads. Brontus enjoyed the visits to Cauldron because the Motley Folk - traveling entertainers that wandered from isle to isle - often frequented the port town. Brontus' family had promised him something special while in the city for when they returned to the desert, the young boy was to undergo his Trials of Manhood.

 

Tragically, it was during the clan's visit to Cauldron that the city was besieged by the Addertongue Brotherhood, a vicious collection of sky-pirates known not only for their ruthlessness but for the prowess of their mages. It was said that powerful wizards bound elemental spirits to the pirates' skyships to give them added speed and power. Brontus remembered clearly the three vessels bearing down on the city, encircled by rings of fire, wind, and lightning.

 

The pirates ransacked the town, killing anyone who stood in their way. Most townsfolk and merchants fled for their lives, but Brontus' clan - warriors all - stood their ground to fight the raiders and defend themselves and their friends in the city. Sadly, even the strongest fighters and most skilled spirit speakers were no match of the numbers and magics of the Brotherhood. Brontus watched many of his family - particularly the clan adults - slain in battle. He and the other youngsters - including some siblings - also tried to fight back but they were even less of a match. Seeing the potential of the strong, hardy youths, the Addertongues spared their lives, instead taking them back to their ships as slaves.

 

For the next few years, Brontus and his clan-kin toiled as heavy laborers either aboard the pirates' skyships or in the mills and quarries of their lawless port towns hidden in the deepest unexplored ranges of the Mist. The demanding work and near constant punishments made Brontus strong and tough but never broke his spirit. Eventually, a group of slaves - including Brontus and some clan-kin, though other family had been taken away, never to be seen again - rose up in rebellion. They spilled far more pirate blood than the blackhearts could have expected, but in the end, they were brutally put down - with more than half of the young rebels killed outright.

 

Once again, Brontus found his life spared. The Addertongues sold the troublesome slaves to the fighting pits of Stratholme, a gothic cityscape that had once been a part of an old military empire, now long fallen. The pits were a mixed blessing for Brontus; on one hand he learned the art of battle and his skill at arms increased – on the other he found his life and probably his death were nothing more than passing entertainment to the decadent citizens of Stratholme. His years of suffering, the loss or death of all his beloved clan, and the seeming hopelessness of this final, humiliating twist in his existence finally – in a manner of speaking – broke his spirit. All he now had left was the pit fights and he would throw himself into combat, venting a lifetime of anger and frustration into a few short

moments of visceral, bloody violence.

 

Brontus’ rage made him successful in the fighting pits, though often a little more than most slavemasters wanted to handle. He was constantly sold and moved to other pits, his skill gradually taking him from the backwater hovels like Dorut where he battled beasts from the Wyrmbog to the virtually ‘respectable’ arenas of the city-state of Menethil where Brontus was ‘sponsored’ (that is, bought) by a cruel eladrin nobleman named Emeriss.

 

Lord Emeriss took Brontus to Jarrak City and put him to the test in the famed Terrimula Arena. There, slave gladiators battled one another in bloody matches or twisted contests for the supposed honor of their ‘sponsor’ Houses. To improve his fighters’ chances, Emeriss employed a hardened battlemaster called Thool Rhak to train them to be even better, more brutal killers.

 

Brontus quickly became one of Thool Rhak’s favorites – something about the young man’s grim, haunted expression striking a reminding chord of tragedy in the battlemaster’s memory. Thool Rhak focused much of his energy on Brontus, preparing him for the day when – without warning or preamble – the battlemaster broke the chains of the nomad-turned-gladiator and told him, “Go.”

 

Brontus only hesitated a moment. As he fled, his sense of vengeful honor demanded to be quenched. From a skyship leaving the Jarrak isles, he watched as the great manor of Lord Emeriss burn, tongues of flame reaching into the night sky. Perhaps it was only his imagination but he could almost see the terrified figure of Emeriss disappear beneath a cascade of burning debris.

 

Brontus has since made his way to Bloodmater – the great cityscape where even a man of savage demeanor could fade into the crowd. The now ex-gladiator lived off of handouts and scraps on the streets before one of the local Thieves Guilds noticed the big man and hired him as a bouncer and leg breaker. Soon Brontus discovered his battle skill could be a way of life – and he became a Troubleshooter.

 

Appearance: Brontus Rexx is a massively built Human male with a muscular barrel chest and limbs as thick as tree trunks. He stands over six and half feet tall and is as wide as two normal men – it was rumored that the Kragmor clans possessed a bit of Giant blood in their veins. He has a square face, a flat nose, and wide frowning mouth – all topped with a thatch of poorly cut short dark hair. His eyes – a dark earth brown – gleam with constantly simmering anger and the memory of death and blood. Brontus dresses in patchwork hides and leather and is never seen without his huge two-handed greatsword.

[teh bunneh]

Re: Bloodmäter

 

Alix Twilight Intro

Alix stood in the center of the hustle and bustle of Bloodmäter – so familiar to her, and yet at the same time so alien. She had spent years away, lost and found out in the desert that surrounds the city in every direction but one, finding herself. Now she had come to find her mother.

 

The small apartment they had once shared was now empty. "She left a year ago," Mrs. Monne, the landlady, said. "Sold all her furniture and belongings. Said she was going looking for you. Oh, but she missed you terribly. Said she had the most terrible dreams. Said she saw you taken prisoner. Tortured, abused in terrible ways. She was going to find you, one way or another. Said she would find you in Haven."

 

Haven. Everyone knew the stories, but no one knew where it was, or how to get there. Alix went to the docks, talked to everyone she could find, but no one knew anything. No one saw her mother, or could say what happened to her. It was like she had vanished off the earth, like the Mist had swallowed up everything but the memory of her.

 

But before despair could overtake her spirit, Alix spoke with a man, a dockmaster who owned a ramshackle pier and rented docking space out by the day. "Aye, I remember her," he said, looking at the rough charcoal sketch that Alix kept. "Looked like you, she did, long dark hair, and a wild cast about her eyes. Said she was looking for her child, kidnapped these long years by slavers. Wanted to travel to the ends of the earth, she did, though I warned her not to seek danger lest she find it. The Addertongue Brotherhood control these skies, they do, and what they take away you'll never see again."

 

"Addertongue?" Alix asked. The name was unfamiliar.

 

"Aye, you've not heard of them? Slavers and pirates, they are. The worst. A whole fleet of ships that prowls the skies from here to the Cauldron and parts unknown. No one dares stand against them and their dread pirate queen."

 

"And my mother? Where did she go?" Alix asked, alarmed.

 

"She found a ship," the dockmaster sighed. "I said she was mad, but she found someone willing to take her to the ends of the earth, she did. The Praying Mantis, it was, and Clarissa her captain. Never saw the ship before or since, so I can't vouch for her honesty, but your mother didn't hesitate for a moment. She's been gone now a year, and for your sake, I pray for her today."

 

"I have to find her. I have to go after her," Alix said.

 

"Aye, well, it'll cost you a fair penny to hire passage," the dockmaster said. "There's precious few ships'll make a trip like that, and none of them for free."

 

Alix counted the meager coins in her purse and frowned. If she wanted to go after her mother, she had to find a way to make enough money to pay for passage. But how?

 

Her musings were interrupted by a banging sound nearby. She turned to look and saw a child – no, a tiny man, a Halfling or perhaps a Gnome – nailing a poster to a wall. "Troubleshooters Wanted!!!" the poster proclaimed. "High Risk = High Reward! Apply at Redstone Tower ASAP for consideration!"

 

Ah. Sometimes Mother Nature provides…

[teh bunneh]

Re: Bloodmäter

 

Rody Falcos intro

> When Rody discovered himself stranded with only his sword and such coin as he had on him, the boy quickly fell in with

> a crowd with which he could be sure to keep pork on his plate, wine in his sack and a roof over his head. The fact that the

> process involved extracting the necessary coin from unwilling fingers troubled him very little. The inevitable attention of the

> self-appointed magistrates in his local Kasbah, however, proved more troublesome. They demanded tribute and

> insisted he should exhibit some "visible means of support." To achieve this, Rody resolved to seek work, at least titularly,

> as a Troubleshooter....

 

The rough hands holding Rody dumped him unceremoniously on the floor. Though blindfolded, his sensitive elvish ears still worked just fine. He was out in the open air, somewhere near the cliff face, and surrounded by boisterous people. A stray thought occurred to him – they weren’t planning to throw him off the edge, were they? Over a simple shakedown?

 

Then a voice called out over the chattering crowd. “Hear ye hear ye! The court of Duke Gordo is now in session! Step forward and you will be heard!”

 

Oh crap, thought Rody. Gordo? They might as well throw him off the cliff. “Duke” Gordo had a bad reputation, a low opinion of anyone freelancing in his territory, and the muscle to back up his edicts. That was a bad combination for freelancers like Rody.

 

Someone tore the blindfold off him and Rody saw that he was in the middle of The Nest, an open-air bar that hung out over the edge of the cliff; Duke Gordo’s official seat of power. He was surrounded by a large number of ne’er-do-wells of every species, most of them chattering and drinking happily, not paying much attention to the actual “court” proceedings. Sitting on the ground near Rody was his buddy Jake, the leader of their little gang.

 

Gordo sat on his “throne” at the head of the room. He was an ogre of a man (or perhaps he was simply an ogre… no one really could say for certain on that score). “All right you mugs, quiet down!” he shouted, and the din in the bar decreased. “What’s first on the docket?”

 

“I am, sir,” a bespectacled, timid-looking man approached Gordo. “I’m Willis Fargo, I own the Silver Birdcage?” This was the guy that Rody and Jake had hit up for money, just before Gordo’s goons grabbed them off the street and hustled them here. “These two men robbed me! They offered their protection services, but I didn’t recognize them as the regular men who come around so I refused. They threatened me with grievous harm and took my cashbox! That’s nearly 200 gold!“

 

Gordo mulled this over, then turned to his aide-de-camp. “Is the Silver Birdcage in good standing?” he asked.

 

“Yes, boss. Coughs up every week, regular as clockwork. Never missed a payment since he opened.”

 

A cloud passed over Gordo’s face as he looked Rody and Jake over. “I won’t have this sort of thing in my neighborhood! Mr. Fargo here don’t need thugs like you interfering with his honest business. Whose idea was this?”

 

Before Rody could open his mouth, Jake pointed his thumb at his companion. “I told him it was a bad idea,” he said. “I told him, “This is Duke Gordo’s neighborhood! We’d better not try anything around here,” but he wouldn’t listen to me!”

 

“You lying little piece of…” Rody started, but Gordo cut him off.

 

“Shut up, both of you!” he roared, forcefully enough that the entire bar quieted down. He settled back on his throne to think. Then he pointed at Rody. “You! Pointy-ears. You’re banished from this neighborhood. You got 2 hours to clear out. Also,” he continued. “You owe Mr. Fargo restitution. That’s 200 gold pieces to make up for what you stole, and another 800 for court costs.”

 

“One thousand???” Rody sputtered, but again Gordo cut him off.

 

“And you, Jake,” he said. “You break your family’s heart when you run around like this. What am I supposed to tell your mother, eh? That her little boy has become a thug? I’m disappointed in you.”

 

“Sorry, Uncle Gordo,” Jake said sheepishly. Rody caught his so-called buddy giving him a sly grin and a wink.

 

“Sorry ain’t good enough this time,” Gordo said. “From now on, you’re working directly for me. No more of this freelancing crap. I’m keeping my eye on you, to keep you out of trouble. Capiche?” The big boss looked back at Rody. “You still here? You got one month to get that money, or else you’re gonna see what’s hiding beneath the Mist, firsthand.”

 

A couple of Gordo’s men led Rody off. As he was pulled away, he saw Jake grin and shrug. “Sorry, buddy,” he said quietly. “Gotta take care of number one.”

 

Later, somewhere outside of Gordo's "jurisdiction," Rody sat on the edge of the cliff and idly tossed pebbles over the edge. "Where the hell am I going to get 1000 gold pieces in less than a month?" he wondered. His musings were interrupted by a hammering sound. He turned around to see a young halfling nailing a poster to a nearby pillar.

 

"Troubleshooters Wanted!!!" the poster proclaimed. "High Risk = High Reward! Apply at Redstone Tower ASAP for consideration!"

[teh bunneh]

Adventure One: Rats in the Walls – Recap (6/20/2009)

 

For various reasons, each of these would-be heroes arrived at the Tower of the Red Wizard. The door was answered by a cheerful young Gnome who welcomed them into the great tower. He introduced himself as Berrian, the Red Wizard's apprentice, and made sure they were all fed and comfortable. After introductions all around, Berrian began to speak.

 

"Every few years, the Red Wizard takes it upon himself to sponsor a group of Troubleshooters," the little Gnome said. "Some of these adventurers go on to achieve greatness. Others, infamy. The Wizard has decided it is once again time to sponsor another group, and fate has thrown the lot of you together."

 

"So what's the pay like?" Rody, ever the pragmatist, asked.

 

"Well…" Berrian said. "Room and board here at the Tower, at first. A small stipend, after you've proven yourselves. And of course, you can expect payment from our clients. It probably won't be much, at least not at the beginning. Once you've established a reputation, though, the sky's the limit!"

 

Brontus shrugged expressively. "Best offer I've had all month," he said. "Count me in."

 

"The Raven Queen led me here for a reason," Clio said with a nod. "I'm in."

 

"And I was told I might find answers here," Hakkoz agreed with a hearty laugh.

 

"You are not the only one seeking answers," Alix purred softly. "I have reasons to join as well."

 

"Huh," Rody scoffed. "No money, eh? Still, it's something at least. Like the barbarian said, best offer I've got. All right, count me in too. For now."

 

"Wonderful!" Berrian said. "And we already have our first quest lined up! You see, the mist-tides have been very high for the past few days. It may be because of the full moons rapidly approaching their zenith. It may have something to do with the screams rumored to echo from the Green Palace for the past fortnight. Or it may, like so many things in Bloodmäter, have no reason at all.

 

"But it does have an effect on those who dwell in the lowest levels of the city, near the shifting, lapping, impenetrable fog," the Gnome continued. "A scourge has come upon these lowest-of-the-low – huge rats have been swarming up from below, chased from their holes by the mist (or something hiding within the mist), and they’ve taken up residence in the storage houses and cool rooms of the people. They’ve tried to deal with it themselves – gods know, they’ve tried!"

 

"But they aren’t warriors," Brontus said.

 

"Exactly!" Berrian agreed enthusiastically. "So time and again they’ve been beaten back by these huge, black-furred vermin, chased out of their own houses and businesses!"

 

"Then we're agreed," Hakkoz said. "Tomorrow morning, we'll go down to their neighborhood and see what we can do to help."

 

The next morning, the heroes began the long climb downwards, into the lower regions of Bloodmäter, to the shadowed neighborhood known as Dimlight. They arrived to find the neighborhood in shambles. People were camped out precariously along the narrow walkways and ladders, looking miserable. As they looked around for someone in charge, they were approached by a tall, goggle-eyed man. "I'm Seth, owner of the Copper Mug and head of the neighborhood alliance," he said.

 

"We're Troubleshooters," Clio told him. "We heard about your troubles and came down to see if we could help."

 

"My business has been just about wiped out," he said, not looking anyone in the eye. "It’s these rats, you see. They started out in my basement, just a few at first but enough to scare my boy out of going down there. We tried to chase them out with sticks, but big they were, and aggressive as all hell, and as soon as we’d managed to chase them out, they’d come right back again the minute our backs were turned."

 

"Then it got worse. One of my customers fell asleep under a table and woke up screaming, with a huge one gnawing on his face! He lost half his cheek and an eye to that one, and business just dried up. Without any people there to keep ‘em out they just came in and took over – drove me and my family out into the streets! And I ain’t the only one it’s happened to. Most of the neighborhood is out in the street, some of ‘em chewed on or worse!"

 

"We ain’t got much money, but if you can get rid of those damned vermin for good and get us back into our homes we’ll pay you. I’ve got a little bit saved away, and so do some of the others."

 

The heroes agreed to these terms. "So where do we begin?" asked Rody.

"My place," Seth insisted (ignoring the protests of the many people around him, who wanted their houses to be first). "That's where it all started, and where the worst of it is still." So the heroes cautiously entered the abandoned bar.

 

The door opened easily. Inside, it looked like there was definitely a fight here – or more likely a mad rush for the exits. Tables were overturned, dried, sticky beer coated the floor, the fireplace was cold and full of ashes. There were even a few personal items that people left behind in the rush to get out. It was dim inside, even darker than the catwalks outside, but the heroes still managed to spot a half-dozen large rats are feasting on something disgusting in the middle of the floor.

 

These enormous vermin looked up and hissed menacingly as the party entered, and then rushed to attack the fresh prey! But the heroes did not intend to be prey, and they quickly dispatched these dog-sized creatures. But as the last of the beasts perished, an enormous swarm of smaller rats came pouring out of the cold fireplace, swarming over Brontus and covering him with scores of bites and scratches.

 

Even worse, three more rats – twice as big as the last bunch – crawled up over the bar and leapt at the other heroes. The battle was pitched, but once again the Troubleshooters prevailed.

 

Seth and the other neighbors peeked in. "Amazing! You've killed them all!" he beamed.

 

"Maybe not all," Brontus said. "There's still the basement…"

 

"Well, here's a down payment on what we owe you," Seth told them, handing them a small chest containing 2 potions of healing. "A wanderer who owed me a sizable tab paid me with these," he said. "Maybe you can find a use for them."

 

While the others were talking, Rody spotted something hanging haphazardly from the corner of an overturned table. Quietly, he pocketed it. He'd check it out later. Maybe it was worth something.

 

The heroes climbed cautiously down into the basement. They could feel dozens of eyes staring at them in the blackness – more rats, hundreds of them, but luckily just the normal-sized ones. In one corner of the room, Hakkoz spotted a dead body, obviously some unlucky soul dragged down below to be gnawed on by rats. He and Clio moved closer to investigate, and that's when the swarms of rats attacked!

 

Pressed on all sized by the rats, the heroes didn't notice the dead body climbing ponderously to its feet. It slammed Clio with its rotted fists, battering her back. But again, the Troubleshooters proved the equal of the fight, and soon the rats were scattered and the walking corpse was once again returned to its eternal rest.

 

Once the room fell silent, Seth looked down at the body and shrugged. "I've never before seen the man. I take good care to remember all my customers, and that man isn't one! I have no idea where he could've come from, or how he got down there."

 

Hakkoz examined the corpse closely. He was dead for at least a day, bitten to death by rats. He was dressed much like Rody – obviously a rogue. Clio, searching the body, found a holy symbol to the Raven Queen, green with age, hidden in a pouch on his person. "Where could he have found this?" the paladin wondered to herself.

 

Meanwhile, Rody managed to find a hidden entrance in the back of the room. "Where's this lead?" he asked Seth.

 

"No idea," the bartender said. "I've never seen it before; never knew there was anything down there. That corner of the room's always been damp and cold. Maybe that's why?"

 

"Mr. Seth, it's best if you keep out for a little while longer," Clio told him. "At least until we find out where this leads, I don't think the bar is safe yet."

 

And the Troubleshooters headed off into the darkness…

[Enforcer84]

Re: Bloodmäter

 

woohoo!

I like it.

[teh bunneh]

Re: Bloodmäter

 

woohoo!

I like it.

 

 

Thanks! More coming soon.

[teh bunneh]

Rats in the Walls Recap (06/27/2009)

 

The characters went down the narrow passageway single file. The floor was rugged and uneven and looked like it was a natural fissure that had been widened out ages ago, and then abandoned. There were rats along the passageway, but they were normal sized and not particularly aggressive. A cold, damp breeze blew up from below, reminding the heroes just how close they were to the edge of the Mist.

Before long the passage opened up into a large chamber. The light was dim, the air was cold and damp, and there was an unpleasant, cloying smell that permeated the room. From where the heroes stood, it appeared to be the antechamber of an old temple or possibly tomb. Statues lay toppled on the ground, and there were a large number of piles of junk (broken chests, urns, vases, etc). On the opposite end of the room was a man-made passage – large and regular in size and shape, with a regular and bright light coming from that direction.

The heroes also couldn’t help but notice the large crevasse that nearly split the floor in half. Wispy tendrils of Mist lazily drifted up from the crack, the sight of which chilled the heroes – they were almost certainly below the level of the Mist!

Rooting around the trash piles were a number of enormous rats. There was also something different – 6 or 8 creatures that looked like a hideous combination between rat and man! They were dressed in rags and armed, though they didn’t seem to be paying much attention to their surroundings, busy as they were digging around in the trash.

The heroes drew their weapons and entered the room, and once the rats noticed them the battle was on! Some of the rat-men rushed to attack, while others drew primitive short bows and fired arrows tipped with globs of sticky, stinky goo at the heroes, hiding behind the cover of the Mist so the heroes couldn’t get a good bead on them.

It was a hard battle, but soon the heroes celebrated their victory as the last rats perished. They then spread out to search the room. They found some ancient coins amidst the piles of trash, but it looked like the rats had already gone through most of it.

As he was searching, Brontus noticed a crack in the ceiling with a knotted rope dangling down from it. “Hey guys, where does that lead?” he asked. Before anyone could answer, Clio called for everyone to be quiet. She heard footsteps approaching up the hallway. They weren’t in any shape for another fight, so Alix, Berrian, and Rody scrambled up the rope and pulled it up after themselves. Brontus, Hakkoz, and Clio quickly dumped the bodies of the rat-men into the crevasse, and then the three of them ran back down the passageway that they had come through.

Rody, at the bottom of the rope, leaned down and listened in as three humans clad in gray robes, accompanied by a dozen rat men and a handful of giant rats, entered the room.

The first human came into the room. “Where are the guards?” he demanded.

The second human looked around. “Perhaps they tried to go through the door…?”

The third human scoffed. “They wouldn't be so stupid.” Then he glanced at the other rat men snuffling around and chittering. “…Or perhaps they would.”

The first man sighed. “Have we had any luck opening the door?”

“No,” the second man answered. “It's too well-designed. The traps are deadly; no one we've sent down the passage has returned.”

“May I once again repeat my suggestion that we hire professionals?” the third man asked. “It worked for us the last time.”

The first man, apparently their leader, considered this. “Troubleshooters? Very well. Make it happen.”

“Just give me 24 hours,” the third man said.

“No. You've got 12. We need to get in there, or the boss will be very unhappy… and you know how the boss gets.”

The three men then left the way they came. The third man turned to the rat men and barked out, “Stay here. Kill any intruders.” The rat men chittered and squeaked in response, then spread out into the room. Rody was certain that they could smell what had happened here, because they seemed agitated.

Meanwhile, Alix and Berrian were scaling up the rope to see where it led. When they got to the top, Alix barely ducked a chamber pot thrown at her head. A young lady stood back, brandishing a knife. “Who are you?” she demanded. “What happened to Charlie?”

“Charlie?” Alix asked. “Do you mean a young man with dark hair, dressed in blackened hide armor?”

“Yes!” the girl shouted. “What did you do to him?”

“We did nothing,” Alix assured her. “But I am sorry to say he is dead. He was killed by the rats that swarm up from below. We found his body while trying to exterminate them.”

The girl began to weep and blubber. “No! No! I told him not to go back down. I told him we had enough, but he said he wanted to check it out one last time!”

Alix was uncomfortable with this display of emotion. She was never much good with people. But she tried to be comforting. “He did not die in vain,” she said. “His sacrifice led us to the rats’ nest, where we can clear them out. But tell me, what did he recover from down below? It may help us avenge him.”

The girl continued to sob. “Just these strange coins,” she said. “We were going to use them to move up to a better neighborhood, one not so close to the Mist. Charlie was going to see about joining up with a gang or a Troubleshooter group, but now he’s dead!” The tears flowed freely.

Alix gave the coins back to the girl. “Take these, and move up out of this place,” she said. “Berrian here knows plenty of people…”

“I do?” Berrian asked, surprised.

“…Plenty of people who might be able to give you a proper education, so that you will be able to move up in the world, more than just physically.”

“Oh, sure! Yeah, I know people at the University,” Berrian agreed. “I’ll even write you a letter of introduction! Just come to the Tower of the Red Wizard in a few days and we’ll talk.”

The girl, still crying, gathered up her meager things and left. Alix found a bird and spoke with it. “Please deliver a message to Hakkoz for me,” she said, asking the bird to tell them not to try to go back into the room; Alix and the others would join them. About this time, Rody climbed up the rope, and the three of them headed back to Dimlight to meet the others.

Finally back together, the heroes discussed their next move. “We’ve got roughly 12 hours,” Rody said. “Maybe we should take a rest, get our strength back, and then go back down before they get there. If we can get through that door before the others and find out what they’re so keen on getting…”

The heroes agreed, and Seth set up a spot for them to rest for a few hours.

The next morning, before the sunlight had even begun to touch this deep part of the city, the heroes climbed back down into the cavern. There, they saw a dozen of the rat men, and a hoard of rats, waiting around the room. The rats were not so casual this time – they knew that something had happened here yesterday, and were ready for it when the heroes burst in.

Again, it was a terrible fight. The heroes were bold, but the rats were smart and tenacious, using the geography of the room to their advantage. Rody, Clio, and Brontus took several hard hits that nearly brought them down, but they did not falter, and soon the rats were all dead.

“Now let’s see about that door,” Clio said.

The portal led deeper into the cliff. The air itself seemed to be infused with a cold blue light, almost like moonlight on a clear night. Carved into the archway above the portal were these words, written in an archaic style: "The wise man knows: The world beneath his feet is not a solid thing."

“Something in the floor, I’d wager,” Rody said. “Let me check it out.”

Sure enough, before he took two steps he noticed that the floor was not right. He carefully slid up to it and kicked it with his boot. The floor fell away, revealing a seemingly infinite drop down into the Mist. After a few seconds, the trapdoor reset itself.

“Should be a simple enough matter to jam it,” Rody said, pulling out the tools of his trade. After a few moments’ work, he stepped back. “Safe as houses!” he announced. Brontus reluctantly put his foot on the floor. It held his great weight, so the party hustled across, where they saw another arch with a similar inscription above it:

"The wise man knows: Only a thin slice separates the quick from the dead."

“Something with knives perhaps?” Alix suggested. Again, Rody cautiously inched forward to look. He noticed shallow cuts running across the floor, and matching slits in the ceiling and walls. “I think I can disarm this one,” he said, but after a few moments of tinkering blades came out of the walls and sliced into him. He dove out of the hallway as Clio and Brontus tried, unsuccessfully, to stop the blades.

“Let me try,” Alix said, leaping gracefully into the hall, tumbling and acrobatically avoiding the swinging blades until she reached the other side. “It’s not so hard,” she grinned.

The others rolled their eyes, but Rody took that as a challenge. He rushed up the hall, not quite so gracefully but quick as lightning, until he reached the end. There he found what appeared to be a control panel. It took him a few minutes of fiddling, but he managed to deactivate it. “Come on through,” he told the others. “Should be safe now.”

“Should be?” Berrian asked.

“I could just throw you across,” Brontus helpfully suggested.

Berrian stared up at the huge barbarian, trying to gauge if he was kidding or not. “No,” he finally said. “I guess I’ll walk.”

Once again, the heroes found an inscription above the next arch. "The wise man knows: Death flies fast and unseen. No man may avoid it."

“Arrows?” Clio suggested, and the heroes looked around for holes in the walls or something similar.

“There it is!” Rody said, pointing up at the ceiling. “Self-arming crossbows hidden in armored turrets on the ceiling. That’s a tricky one – the control panel is right between them, but I can’t get to it without risking getting shot.

“Then we’ll block for you,” Clio said, hoisting up her shield. She and Brontus stepped up while Alix readied a spell that would (hopefully) blind the magical sensor for at least a few seconds. Then the heroes rushed into the room. Clio and Brontus took several hits, but they kept Rody safe while he figured out the mechanism, and before long he completely deactivated it.

“I sure hope we’re done with these traps,” he sighed, wiping off his brow. He looked up and saw the doorway, with an arch above it. The inscription read, "The wise man knows: Give homage to the gods, for one day he shall meet them."

“OK, nobody go anywhere near it until we figure this out,” he told the others. He began searching around for another trap. While he was so occupied, Brontus approached the door. He noticed a shallow depression in the center of the doorway. It took him a moment to recognize the shape – it was the symbol of the Raven Queen, goddess of death. He looked over at Clio and then pointed to the symbol.

The paladin approached it cautiously. She felt a trepidation rising up in her soul, but she carefully took out the holy symbol she had taken from the dead man above and touched it against the door. The symbol and the door both glowed blue, and then the door opened.

It revealed a crypt chamber. There was a large sarcophagus in the middle of the room, gilded and glorious even in age. Several smaller sarcophagi lined the walls around it, along with chests and funeral boxes. The whole room was filled with the dust and cobwebs of ages.

As the heroes slowly entered, the sarcophagus in the middle of the room slowly creaked open. Bones groaned as the mummified corpse within shuddered and moved. "Who invades this sacred place? Who disturbs my eternal slumber and risks my wrath? Speak true, or suffer the consequences.”

“I am Clio, ninth daughter of a ninth daughter, and paladin of the Raven Queen,” Clio said. “There is a group of men, servants of the King Who Crawls I believe, who are trying to get into this room. We do not know why, but I think there is something in here that they wish to steal.”

“And where are the guards?” the mummy rasped. “Where are the king’s soldiers to protect the tombs of those who once served so loyally?”

“The king is…” Clio hesitated.

“There is no king,” Rody said. “Not anymore. Not for years now. We’re Troubleshooters, and we’re all there is.”

“No king?” the mummy asked. “How long has it been?”

“According to the style of language on your coffin, and these tomb dressings, I’d say it’s been at least 400 years since you were buried here,” Berrian said. “During the reign of King T’Chail would be my guess.”

“Yes,” the mummy said. “King T’Chail was a mighty man, and a good king. It was an age of prosperity for all.” He took a dusty breath, and continued. "I was P'natz, once a powerful warrior in the service of the Raven Queen. I was laid here to rest untold years ago, along with the tools of my labors.

“Now it has come to pass that there are those who would raid my tomb,” he continued. “Those who would violate its sanctity, and steal the property of the goddess – just as they have found and looted the tombs of my brothers and sisters.” Clio looked distinctly uncomfortable at these words, but said nothing. “If you are the heroes you claim to be, I charge you, in the name of the king and the goddess, to find those who could commit these sins and see that they are punished. Swear this to me…"

“I swear!” Clio said without hesitation.

“As do I,” Hakkoz agreed.

“Me as well,” Alix said.

“And you can count me in!” Berrian readily agreed.

“Will there be treasure?” Brontus asked. Clio elbowed him in the ribs. “Ow! All right, I’ll do it.”

“Fortune and glory,” Rody sighed. “I’ll help as well.”

“Then take these, my weapons, and use them to defend the people against evil,” the mummy croaked. It laid its sword and shield on the ground before it, and then climbed back into its sarcophagus. The lid slid shut, and the room grew quiet.

Clio picked up the shield. It had the symbol of the goddess on it. She dropped her normal shield and put this one on, feeling magical power surge through her. Meanwhile, Brontus picked up the blade and swung it. It, too, had the symbol of the Raven Queen on it. He smiled as he felt the weight and heft of the blade.

About then, Alix noticed a door in the back of the room. She was certain it wasn’t there before, but now it was. “Hey guys, let’s find out where this leads,” she said…

TBC!

[matrix3]

Re: Bloodmäter

 

Thanks! This looks like a really fun campaign.

[teh bunneh]

Re: Bloodmäter

 

Recap for 07-25-2009

The door from the mummy’s tomb opened into a narrow passageway that lead out to the cliff face. Along the cliff face was an ancient path, carved into the rock itself, narrow and winding, that heads away from Dimlight. There used to be another path going in the opposite direction, but it has crumbled away with age. It was chilly and damp down there, and the sun’s light barely reached this far down. This part of the cliff looked like it was underneath the “high tide” line of the Mist. The heroes estimated they had four or five of hours before the Mist started to rise again.

 

As they were following the path, Clio noticed something amiss – a few pebbles dropping down on her. Then that’s when an enormous spider leapt out of a hidden cave and attacked her!

 

The heroes fought the creature on that narrow ledge, careful not to get too close to the edge. The spider bounded around with amazing leaps – it did not fear the fall, and it had the ability to cling to the rocks in any case. At one point, it grabbed Clio and crushed her in its grip, nearly killing her, but the other heroes rushed it and harried it until it was injured enough to try to flee back into its cave. Berrian blocked the entrance with one of his spells, and the rest of the team finished it off.

 

While the others were resting from their injuries, Alix, Rody, and newcomer Paxton climbed up into the creature’s cave and poked around. They found several skeletonized remains, both humanoids and animals. It was impossible to say how long they’d been down here, and the dampness has ruined most of the equipment they were carrying, but Rody managed to scrounge up 200 GP, and Alix found a large, triangular metallic piece carved with runes. Hakkoz and Berrian examined it. They were certain it was magical, but couldn’t tell what it was for.

 

The heroes continued along the pathway, getting concerned that it was growing late and the Mist would be rising soon. But Clio spotted a tattered flag covering the entrance to a small cave. The flag was deliberately hung there, and though it was old it was not ancient. Those heroes who were natives of Bloodmäter recognized the flag as that which once flew over the Green Palace – a sky-blue field with a golden sun over an emerald tower.

 

Paxton and Alix volunteered to check it out, and Rody followed quietly along behind them. They pushed aside the flag and noticed a thin wisp of smoke and the smell of something cooking coming from deeper within.

 

Before long, they found a cavern, furnished with a straw pallet, a cooking fire, and an old man, with wild hair and an unkempt beard. He looked up as the heroes enter and his face cracked open with a wide but crooked grin. “Ah, heroes bold,” he said in a voice unused to speaking. “Come in from the cold.”

 

Alix asked him who he was, and he responded, “I am the Fool, that is all. Sometimes I even come when you call.”

 

He was obviously one of the Mist-Touched, made mad from breathing the vapors. Alix and Paxton weren’t sure if the cave was safe, so they asked him. “My home is no palace,” he replied. “But here you’ll find no malice.”

 

“Yes, but what of the Mist?” she asked. “Is it safe to stay in the cave?”

 

“The Mist is no stranger,” he laughed. “But this cave holds no danger.”

 

“All right,” Alix sighed, realizing she was getting nowhere. “How did you get here? Why do you live here, so close to the Mist?”

 

“What better place to hide for one such as me? Down here, even those who look cannot see.”

 

“Hide?” Paxton said. “What are you hiding from?” But the old man did not answer.

 

Outside, the others were getting anxious. The Mist was rising up rapidly. They decided it was better to go in than to stay out, so they climbed into the cave and tied the flag “door” shut as tightly as they could. They noticed that there was a breeze coming from the cave, which seemed to keep the Mist out. This reassured them, and they went inside to see what was going on.

 

When they came in, the old man gestured for them to have a seat. “Come! Sit! Speak with me a bit. Poor is my fare, but there’s plenty to share.” He began ladling out bowls of bland but filling stew for everyone. Some of the heroes broke open their own stores of food and shared some bread and dried vegetables around, which the old man gleefully devoured.

 

After dinner, he cleared away the dishes (such as they were), then asked if they had questions for him. It is well known in Bloodmater that sometimes the Mist-touched have the gift of prophesy, and people seek them out to learn their futures. But there’s also an old folk saying that goes, “The things they say cannot be unheard.”

 

Clio, who had some experience with the prophesies of the Mist-touched, volunteered to ask a question. “Before you speak, know that there is a price,” he warned her. “You might not like it, it may not be nice…”

 

“What is the price?” she asked.

 

“Someday, I will call you,” he said in a surprisingly lucid voice. “The city will call you, and you must answer, you must stand brave and tall in its service, or you will be forever damned. This is the trade. Agreed?”

 

Clio agreed. “Tell my future,” she said.

 

He looked at her, and then he bowed deeply. “Your most royal majesty,” he said. “Ninth daughter of a ninth daughter. Keep on this path, remember the oath you swore to P’natz, and you will find your absolution… and perhaps absolution for all your people.”

 

“That could mean anything!” Alix objected.

 

“No, it’s true,” Clio said. “I am the ninth daughter of a ninth daughter. You don’t see too many of those.”

 

“But you’re not a princess!” Alix said. “...Are you?”

 

“No,” the paladin admitted. “But once upon a time, my people ruled a huge empire. Maybe I’m descended from royal blood?”

 

“Fine!” Alix said. “I’ll ask him a question. Are we going to find what we’re looking for?”

 

The old man nodded. “You are seeking your mother, as she is seeking you. You need not worry; she has not yet reached her destination. You will see her again before she reaches that place.”

 

“And what of me?” Hakkoz asked. The old man turned to him. “You too are looking for family, or at least one who is very much like family. You will find her when you also find her,” and with that he pointed to Alix, “And her,” pointing to Brontus.

 

“Hey, what do you mean by that?” Brontus demanded.

 

The old man smiled reassuringly. “You are alone, your family taken away from you. But know that you are not really alone, not any more. And someday you will meet your family again: A brother and a sister still live.”

 

Rody refused to say a word. He didn’t want his fortune read. He was world-wise enough to know that a man like him doesn’t have a future – or if he does, he doesn’t want to hear about it. Berrian kept quiet too, for reasons of his own.

 

After this, the old man seemed exhausted. He didn’t say another word, he just crawled into his sleeping pallet and soon was snoring. The heroes set a watch for the night, then took turns sleeping on the cave floor. The night passed without any further trouble, and before dawn they were awakened by the old hermit fixing a breakfast of fried mushrooms.

 

The heroes thanked him, shared some more of their rations with him (which he happily accepted), and headed back out. “Do we continue this way, or go back?” Rody asked.

 

“The prophet said to “keep on this path,” Clio said. “So we should go on.”

 

“Unless he meant something else,” Alix, still skeptical, scoffed.

 

But no one had a better idea, so they continued along, mindful of the danger of ambush. The pathway eventually lead to an ancient building, sheltered from the city above by a rock overhang. It appeared to be a long abandoned temple to some ancient, forgotten god. It had a broad “patio” in front of the doorway, though it used to be much bigger – parts of it have calved off and fallen into the Mist. They also spotted movement on the patio – several rat-men stand about, snuffling and sniffing among the rocks.

 

The whole place gave off an eerie vibe – not just from the presence of the rats, but there was something here that seemed wrong; it felt evil. The heroes decided that they had to get inside and see what this place was, but first they had to get past the rats.

 

Luckily the creatures weren’t expecting trouble. Alix and Rody climbed up the rocks above them and then quietly dropped down behind them, blocking off the entrance to the door. Then Clio, Paxton, Hakkoz and Brontus charged into the middle of them. Berrian hung back, providing support. Though there were nearly twenty of the creatures, the heroes made short and easy work of them. None of them escaped. Then the team turned to the open doorway. The darkness within seemed to pool outwards…

 

TBC!