Drhoz

The story here:
 
Years ago, I had a player who was going to PCS in six months.  He wanted to "learn how to GM" before he left so that if he couldn't find a Champions group, he could start his own.  He co-GMed with me for a few weeks and when he felt he had it down pat (and had bought _three copies_ of the rules: 2e boxed sets.  I mentioned "years ago," right?), I stepped down and played in a campaign of his devising.
 
Unfortunately, he was really big on "anti-heroes" like Punisher and, under certain writers (I am told), Wolverine and Batman.  He liked the "I am a good guy!  You can tell because I only beat /cripple / murder "the bad guys."  
 
I love westerns, where in-genre, that's the norm, but while those people might be the heroes of the story, they are not necessarily "good guys."  While I am not the biggest fan that the superhero genre ever had, I still feel that no matter how angsty or obnoxius they are, they should still be at least making clear efforts to be "good guys," heavy on decency, or at least wrestling with the attempt to be.
 
In short: I don't care for anti-heroes in the supers genre.  I have nothing _against_ anti-heroes, right up until they put on spandex and become hyper-macho gun-toting stereotypes.  
 
To reconcile what I thought spandex supers should be with what anti-heroes are, I came up with the Good Guy.  He is unquestionably "touched."  Like periodically out of synch with reality.
 
"This city is in pain.  Only I can hear its cries of agony, and its whimpers of fear.  For too long have too many done too little.  For too long have her so-called protectors carved comfortable reputations for themselves by taking from her in a more insidious way.  For too long have the werewolves roamed free.  This city needs a face it can believe in.  This city needs a face it can trust.  This city needs the face of an undeniable good guy [puts orange fishbowl with spray painted smilie face over his head].  That's me.  This city will immediately know it finally has a champion [puts bandolier of shotgun shells across chest].  This city will know it has a defender. [Slings shotgun across back]  This city will know it has all the help [drops pistols into holsters] and all the support [buckles belt of grenades] and all the love it will ever need. [Secures a dozen throwing knives to various bits of his black-and-orange costume].  This city will know the instant it sees me [hefts  barbed wire "whip" over shoulder] that I, (secures throwing forks to other bits of his costume) and I alone [hangs grappling gun /autofire crossbow from grenade belt] am undeniably a Good Guy."
 
[Leaps out of window firing grappling gun in random direction (Swinging: No Conscious Control).]
 
"I trust this city; and this city trust me.  Fate will carry me to where I am needed. [Randomly fires grappling gun again, snagging the skid of a medical transport chopper (2d6 Luck) and gets jerked onto a different path]  quiver in fear, evil.  Quiver in fear, werewolves.  Too long have you infested this city.  But I can see clearly now.  I can see you for who you are.  I am coming for you, werewolves.  I will _get_ you, werewolves, and your little dog NASA, too.... [Randomly fires grappling gun again]  but first, I have to pee...."
 
So yeah: it is entirely likely he could open a dimensional door, step through, fall into a chimney, surface through a toilet, and announce "There has to be some other way; this is getting boring...."
 
 
 
 
 
 

Sounds like The Punisher put through the crazy The Tick mold. I like it. 

Eel doesn't fly, and really mysticism gives him the creeps. He probably redirects folks away from it while hoping someone who knows magic shows up.
 
Pogo openly agrees it's a bad idea to open it, that your average citizen should be kept away, then, when no other heroes are looking, opens it to 'just take a quick peek'. She will be missed.
 
Pinprick hits the door with a shrinking arrow so no one bigger than a foot tall can get through there. There, saved the world from who knows what invasion. You're welcome!
 
 

JRSKA would be livid - her OnlyFans is one of her more amusing pastimes. When she catches up with whoever is responsible, the results will only be pretty to other Slaanesh cultists.
 
R.O.V.E.R isn't really equipped to understand social media, but it would certain affect the operations of his counterpart S.P.O.T - social media is one of the data sources that AI uses to select ROVER's next target.
 
Vitus : "And you're wasting my precious time with this *why*?"
 
 
Hero Shrew: "Oh, I thought our PR rep had locked me out of the team's social media accounts again. Huh."
 
Ripper K(and for that matter Felix Bethke) : Who's loosing the most money and how much can they pay us to fix it?
 
Zero: "Have you any idea what it's like to be a telepath in the same room as an addict going through withdrawal? Now multiply that by 10 million."
 

Pathfinder : Hell's Rebels - Face It Alone

We return to Kintargo, re-equip everything we burned through trying to burn through the Aboleth, and depart again to visit Vyre, on Vyre Island. 
 
GM: Think of it as Kintargo’s New Jersey. 
Terzo: So we could have returned to Kintargo via Vyre?
 
Vyre is known as the City of Masks, because it’s traditional to go about in disguise, to better enjoy all the illicit activities that form the bulk of Vyre’s economy.
 
Terzo OoC: Everything’s Legal In New Jersey.
Rajira OoC: As long as you don’t get caught.
 
A largely freewheeling and chaotic city, Vyre is not entirely without laws. Five rules known as ‘Promises’ govern all residents and visitors, compact enough to be carved on statues throughout the city - "I Shall Honor All Coin", meaning all transactions are assumed final and binding and all prices are negotiable. This rule also prohibits theft. "I Shall Speak Many Names", meaning all people should accept any name given by a person Vyre, regardless of its veracity, and without ever revealing a person's identity if they conceal it. "I May Wound Yet Shall Not Kill", which requires people to let their enemies in Vyre live in order to give them a chance to avenge themselves. "I Know None Are Below Me", which discourages all forms of prejudice and discrimination. "I Shall Let Closed Doors Remain Closed", meaning all private secrets and acts must remain private, and any broken promises are assumed to be intact unless sufficient evidence is provided.
 
Terzo’s player: It’s honestly astonishing that the Chellaxians haven’t had the city magically nuked. 
Rajira’s player: It’s too useful - You don’t seal off your safety valve.
Civilla’s player: It’s a good place to have agents. It’s their Casablanca. And it has rules, and doesn’t necessarily oppose Thrune. 
 
Civilla is going to take advantage of the fact that the prohibition on other gods isn’t complete across Chelliax, by wearing a full-face opera mask that references her own goddess of choice. It’ll also magically conceal her Alignment. 
 
Terzo: Well, going masked won’t be a hardship for me - I used to go about in disguise on a regular basis, back when I was younger and more handsome.
 
We have a few objectives in the City of Masks - make certain arrangements regarding a number of warehouses in the city on behalf of one Molly Mayapple, and contact the ‘kings and queens’ of Vyre to try and garner support for the rebellion. Of course the ‘rulers’ don’t exactly advertise their whereabouts, even if the existing advertisements leave nothing to the imagination.
 
Terzo: *stopping in front of one and turning his head sideways* Hmm. Haven’t seen THAT one in a while.

Civilla: You know, Terzo, there might still be copies of your work here.
Terzo: *cheers up*
Civilla: After all they’re illicit now.
Terzo: *cheers up even more*
 
There’s a lot of aspirant Hellknights hanging around Vyre, rounding out their life experience before joining own of the Orders. They’re pretty obvious. The Mask of Blades are less obvious, but still too much of a semi-official militia to be the kind of people we want to meet. 
 
Rajira: I’m trying to spot the *private* spies. 
 
Rajira spots at least three other factions following us around.  Most of them are probably from Vyre’s various interest groups, but she’s most interested in contacting one of the Masks of Blood, who oversee the legal affairs of the citizens of Vyre and assist them against foreign interests. She has Mahat drop a message where it can reach the appropriate personages. Molly Mayapple, on the other hand, is much easier to find - she’s running a hostel called The Seven Apples. Convenient, since we need a place to stay. And you can book the rooms for the entire night here, instead of by the hour. At least we’re more professional than most adventuring groups, so she doesn’t direct us into the queue for the corner booth.
 
Civilla: You know who has it worse? The bar wench. Adventurers putting on AIRS. Trying to pay with platinum, or rubies. That’s why I always carry copper and silver - the COMMON coin.
Rajira: And then the money changers take a cut anyway.
Civilla: Right! So you’re not doing the innkeeper a big favour anyway - instead of saying ‘let me know when this runs out’, at say ‘Let me know when this runs out - and charge me double’
 
Molly agrees to talk in a back room - she’s not pleased when she sees we have all those deeds we found in the Grey Spider’s lair.
 
Molly: So, what brings the Grey Spiders to my door?
Civilla: Grey Spiders? No no, we recently came into possession of these deeds.
Molly: And now you’re going to extort money from me, after stealing them?
Rajira: We’re just going to give them to you.
Molly: For FREE?
Civilla: I think you’re suffering a misapprehension. We’re not the Grey Spiders. We’re The Rumour. The Whisper. Chance Incarnate. A group of prisoners just *happened* to walk out of a salt mine. Another walked out of the gaol before they were due to be executed.
Molly: … you’re from Across The River.
Civilla: Yes. 
Molly: And you’re just giving them to me?
Civilla: As a display of good will and the benefits of future co-operation.
Molly: *tears welling up* Excuse me a moment.
Ayva: I think we’ve broken our hostess. In less that 5 minutes
Rajira: Still not our best effort.
 
Molly promises to get us an invite to one of the Masked Balls (of course all balls are Masques on Vyre) and 800 platinum in a Handy Haversack so we can enjoy ourselves in town - she’ll make that back easily now she has the warehouse deeds again. Of course Civilla came prepared for our trip, with everything she needs as letters of introduction - or the tools to forge them.
 
Terzo: This isn’t why I taught you calligraphy, young lady. 
 
The current Queen is an atheist, apparently, so Civilla’s mask might be a problem at the ball. The other advice we get include ‘don’t mention the King, even though he’ll be there’,  where to get the brand new outfits and masks expected for one of these functions, and suitable price ranges for the required gifts for the Queen. Spiders, onyx jewelry, fine mead, salacious works of art, lacy gloves, fancy potion vials, flowers with black petals, Ustalavic novels, or exquisite banquet utensils are preferred. 
 
Civilla: Unusual combination - Ustalavic literature is all ‘we’re cold and miserable and by the end of the book half of us will be dead’.
Terzo OoC: So she’s a rich goth.
Civilla OoC: A rich THIRSTY goth. 
 
Given the price of custom glassware made in three days, it’s just as well Molly gave us that bagful of cash. 
 
Terzo: Perhaps I can find her a collection of salacious poetry.
Rajira: Possibly, have you written any?
Terzo: I can always offer to customise it with one I make up on the spot. Well, claim I came up with it on the spot. 
 
Rajira commissions a pair of potion vials in the form of coiling snakes, Civilla brings an obsidian dagger in an ivory sheath with an onyx spider on the outward side and a concealed symbol of Noticula on the inward side. Shimza brings a corset with a spider motif (and another concealed symbol of Noticula). Ayva is bringing a painting of a naked woman with a strategically positioned variety of colorful spiders “Lady with Spider” (Not a Typo), but then she is the artist of the group.
 
Civilla: I didn’t have time to do a sculpture, OK?
 
Dressed to the nines and possibly elevens we arrive at Cobweb Manor, an apparently decrepit building guarded by flesh golems in suits, and infested by fist-sized spiders,  where a small group is already gathered. Nine guests and their assorted attendants who don’t count. Molly is with our group.
 
Ayva: Oh good, that makes 14 guests - otherwise one of us is bound to be murdered.
Civilla: Does Shimza count as a guest or attendant?
 
We decide that Shimza counts as Civilla’s plus-one, regardless of what that does to the likelihood of horrible murder. Molly helps us with the public names and backgrounds of the other guests, despite their masks, but Civilla already knows most of them anyway. 
 
Anca Verezzian: Female Varisian human; orphaned ex-circus acrobat; chief of security at the Final Throw; eager and curious. Asmerru: aristocrat from Hinji; interests in halfling slave trade; shameless gossip. Elitu Rosewinter: Female halfling; wanted for murder in Augustana; out-of-work assassin; sadistic and prone to using grisly metaphor in idle conversation. An unknown elderly Tian woman, her grey hair tied in a bun in traditional fashion. Notable feature is a mole on her chin. Kekza Zenk: Female gnome; ex-adventurer; dancer at the Nine-Tails pub; incorrigibly flirtatious Morvira Crispin: Female Chelish human; madam; owns the Night Tea Room, a local brothel; enjoys giving people embarrassing or salacious nicknames. Sefuri Dendru: Male Garundi human; businessman; owns the Coughing Carbuncle, a local tavern; heavy and proud of it.  
Terzo (OoC): I’m sure there’s a fascinating story why it’s called the Coughing Carbuncle and I’m equally sure I don’t want to know.
Civilla (OoC): Do you know what a carbuncle is?
Terzo (OoC): The gemstone or the cluster of connected boils?
GM: There’s also a kind of lizard that plays dead - that was probably the inspiration for the name.
Ayva (OoC): You’re welcome to ask.
Civilla (OoC): I’m not.
 
Strephian: Male half-elf; businessman; owns the Blue Monkey game hall; heavy drinker who never seems to get drunk. Xoshak Zabrinni: Elderly male Keles***e human; businessman; owns local curio shop Zabrinni’s Discoveries; refers to self in third person.  
All very plausible victims or suspects in a murder mystery, but we’ll see how things turn out.
 
Rajira arrives in an emerald green dress, backless and ankle-length, with a subtle scale pattern, accessorized with an emerald choker of ridiculous expense. Her hair is tied back with an emerald silk ribbon, and she isn’t hiding her non-human heritage at all. Mahat on the other hand is posing as her attendant, and is dressed in a monotone grey suit. Civilla and Shimza’s outfits are even more expensive, being black with blue and off-white highlights, augmented by corsets of black silk, their silver brocade accented with azurite insets, and both brought griffon mane reversible cloaks. Civilla’s outfit includes the purple and orange of her house. Ayva is wearing a dress of many hues of blue that look like paint on silk canvas with ‘drips’ of sapphires from the sleeves and dress. Ayva’s offsider Portia is wearing a Pink Plush dress out of a princess fairy tale. Terzo’s less expensive outfit includes a Chellish doublet with slashed sleeves, in red and yellow.
 
Civilla: Please tell me that’s noble standard. Or at the very least courtier.
 
Perhaps predictably for a place called Cobweb Manor, lair of the Queen of Delights, the interior decorations lean towards spiderweb, magical chandeliers, and numerous paintings both varied and scandalous. The dining room already has a guest seated in the door nearest the entrance - a skeleton in a tophat.  Presumably this is the King nobody is supposed to comment on. Portia is made to sit next to him.  When Manticce Kaleeki the Queen of Delights - a stunningly beautiful tiefling woman with blood-red eyes, prominent horns, and a scaled tail, and the star of some of the more salacious paintings in the building - enters, she is greeted with a standing ovation.
 
Terzo (OoC): Of course I stand and join the ovation, I taught Civilla half the etiquette she knows.
Civilla (Ooc): Of course that was only half of what he tried to teach me. And I then had to figure out for myself which half actually applied. 
 
She welcomes us with a short speech, and promises a meal that we’ll remember for the rest of our lives. That’s not ominous at all. 
 
The Queen of Delights: Greetings, new friends and old, to my home. I see some familiar faces here, and some delightfully unfamiliar ones as well. It is always a pleasure to serve new tongues the delectable offerings of House Kaleekii, and I trust you shall remember the meal to come for the rest of your lives. Tonight’s banquet is brought to us by master chef Annatolintis Tasetas, all the way from Katapesh, and consists of four expertly prepared courses. I expect the conversation to be lively and thought-provoking, and as always, I shall accept your gifts during the serving of dessert. Without further ado, let us begin!
 
Civilla and Shimza promptly down some antitoxin. 
 
The Queen of Delights snaps her fingers, and a small army of servants, all clad in diaphanous white robes and wearing wraps of gauzy veils over their faces, emerges. The servants quickly move with dishes to each of the dinner guests, and all at once they remove the covers to reveal the first course: In front of each guest is a tureen of heady, boiling-hot liquid sitting atop a nest of five short candles. The liquid has a hypnotically metallic appearance, like that of mercury. Also in front of the guests is a smaller bowl in which swim five live minnows. Finally are a set of utensils that include a two-tined fork; a sharp, slender knife; and a spoonlike sieve. This would seem rather more difficult than remembering which one is the snail fork. Careful glances at the other guests suggests we’re supposed to poach and fillet the fish, and blow out the candles to let the Quick Soup cool. Mahat performs flawlessly, but Civilla is slightly irritated that Terzo is more dexterous at catching the live fish.

Portia, unfortunately, manages to lose all her fish onto the table, as do some of the other guests. One of them just dumps his fish into the soup.
 
Civilla: This would seem to be the host’s chance to show that her guests are fools. 
Rajira: I’m seriously considering botching one of the fish on purpose. 
 
While we wait for the second course the Queen of Delights comments on the current political situation on the mainland.
 
Queen: If such a small group of rebels can fight back so easily against the powers of Hell, then is House Thrune really able to say they are in charge?
Civilla: Kintargo has never truly been Chelaxian - it’s always been its own creature
Queen: Interesting - I was more referencing events in Westcrown.
Civilla: Perhaps it is simply that Barzillai grips too tightly.
Rajira: If you squeeze too tightly, most things slip between your fingers.
 
The slave-trader is so offended by this that he spills his soup, denying that there’s any situation in Chelliax. Rajira murmurs an observation about how a slave-trader is hardly going to admit that an uprising is likely. 
 
Ayva: Ah, the slap you DON’T hear around the room.
Civilla: I’m not claiming that it’s the Empress’s fault - merely that of those she has act in her stead.
 
The second course appears to be a braised human head. Fortunately it’s a specially shaped boiled squash. The spices in the sauce are rather more of a problem, at least for those of us that didn’t grow up in areas where vindaloo is babyfood. Some of us are glad they brought vials of antitoxin AND antiflame.

Rajira (in vishkanya, to Mahat): Varisians, thinking they can handle spicy foods…
Civilla (In perfect Vishkanya): Who are you calling Varisian?

Queen: You know, this very aptly reminds me of the nation of Galt. The nation’s Red Revolution has been going on for years now, and so many have been beheaded by the ‘final blades’. It makes one think, don’t you agree? All the pain and death that comes from their actions, sometimes to oppose the rightful rulers. Is it any wonder that some would label these rebels as domestic terrorists.  How is it that these revolutionaries justify this?
Terzo: I imagine they’ll say something like ‘the rose of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants.’
Civilla: *hisses* Do not use language like that!
 
Funnily enough two of the other guests do use language like that, and their argument becomes quite heated.

Queen: It seems we have our own rebellion growing at this very table!

She claps her hands in delight as the meat course is brought in - three large pies with golden, flaky crusts. The servants with the empty trays then line up behind the servant with the pies, who begin cutting large slices of the pies and giving those slices to the other servants. These servants then quickly go to each of the dinner guests and place a single piece of pie in front of each of them. The process of cutting and distributing the pies is insanely quick—the servants deftly deliver the pies to the guests within a minute of the first cut being made! Although, once the slices of pie are given, we discover the strangeness of this dish. The pies themselves appear to consist of crust and nothing else—yet while physics would dictate that the top of the crust would sag from lack of support, it doesn’t. It simply floats. Prodding between the crust reveals that there is indeed something of substance there, but it is simply invisible. Apparently it’s made from the flesh of an Invisible Stalker, and is supposed to be eaten before it reacts with the air. Rajira eats the entire slice whole, by dislocating her jaw. 

The Queen: Sin is very strange, don’t you think? What constitutes a ‘sin’ is very much a societal and cultural notion. For example, I’m sure many here would agree with the notion that cannibalism is a terrible and monstrous thing to do. But the gnolls of Garund have a very different idea—for they feast upon their own as a sign of reverence to the person’s life—almost like a funerary rite. They would hardly think twice of the moral implications of cannibalism, because to them there is no moral quandary. And yet, the ‘civilized folk’ label them as monsters who feast upon their own for the hell of it. We label one culture’s actions based on the cultural norms of another. Or, for a more close-to-home example, I personally believe that the worship of a deity is a sin, and yet here in Cheliax, worship of Asmodeus is all but required to avoid political backlash. It is fascinating, is it not? What one considers normal, another might consider terrible. So, let me ask you, my esteemed guests, as we let closed doors remain closed: what do you consider to be the greatest sin one can commit?

The Queen extends her hand to invite her guests to speak. After an awkward silence, it is the well-dressed half-elf who speaks first.

Strephian: Well, I would say wasting booze. 

This elicits a soft chuckle from a few of the guests—including the Queen.

Sefuri Dendru: Well, why that specific? I would say wasting food in general is a terrible thing to do. *proudly smacking his rotund belly*.
Kekza Zenk the flirtatious dancer: Well, I would have to say chastity. Just…no!
Xoshak Zabrinni: Xoshak believes fraud to be a terrible sin! You would never catch Xoshak doing such a thing!
Molly:  *thoughtfully pauses* Racism.
Asmerru the slaver: *glaring at Molly* It is a horrid thing to be disobedient to one’s superior.
Elitu Rosewinter, the halfling assassin: Heh. Resurrection.
Anca Verezzian: To give one’s trust is a great thing, but to abuse that trust…I have no pity for such a man.
Morvira Crispin: *clutches at a necklace that she is wearing and whimpers* N-neglecting your children…
 
The Queen of Delights turns her attention to the elderly Tian-Shu woman whom the PCs now realize has not spoken since the dinner began. She meets the Queen’s gaze, and the Tian woman’s words are spoken with pure venom and contempt: ”To invade another’s home.”

Terzo: To act against one's true self.
 
That, of course, goes down like a lead balloon in Vyre, and there are audible gasps around the table, but the Queen acknowledges it with interest, apparently realizing that Terzo is being perfectly sincere.
 
Rajira: To enter into an action knowing failure is the only option.
Ayva: To toil without purpose.
Civilla: I would say Pride - pure and simple. To pretend that there is nothing left to achieve, that that there is nothing left to do. None of us are perfect and all of us have room for improvement. 
 
This is an oblique reference to her faith in the Redeemer Queen, and the Queen apparently recognises it as ‘maybe you just haven’t found the right god yet’ and narrows her eyes.
 
The servants come back out with the desserts. The servants place the following in front of each of the dinner guests: A small plate covered by a silver lid, a strange device that looks like a little corkscrew, and a curious fist-sized object in the shape of a dodecahedron. The servants all simultaneously lift the lids, and a tumble of fat candied spiders pour out, their abdomens are much larger compared to their heads. The disproportional abdomens are about the size of a grape.
 
Civilla OoC: ‘So, which PCs have Disable Device?’
 
Unfortunately most guests do quite badly figuring out how to eat the dessert (or even opening the polyhedral puzzle box) so it gets a bit messy. At least the transdimensional d20s weren‘t Lament Configurations, and the mess is merely the dipping honey rather than blood and assorted organs. Shimza expresses her displeasure by skewering the spiders on her claws.
 
Rajira: *in Undercommon* Delicious.
Civilla: *in Undercommon* I wouldn’t know.
 
Then the Queen accepts the various gifts. She is generally quite pleased with them.
 
Ayva: I present, my lady, a modest painting of an immodest woman.
 
The guests mingle and eventually start to disperse, and Molly nudges us to indicate that it’s time to actually talk business with the host.
 
Rajira: An excellent meal, O Queen - pleasing to the belly and stimulating to the mind.
Queen: Thank you
Rajira: But I’m sure you are aware we are here for another purpose.
Queen: I am indeed, my darlings. And your performance tonight has already decided me. Now it is time for me to calculate your score.
Civilla OoC: Was that last bit the queen or the GM?
Terzo: In character for either.
Ayva OoC: ‘I must now count your BANQUET POINTS!’
 
The Queen is ready to support our overthrow of Thrune.
 
Queen: Of course Vyre will support your bid for freedom—this little banquet is nothing compared to the complex political machine at work. When the time comes to throw off Thrune’s shackles, Vyre will be there to aid you! Now, with all due respect, if you would please see yourselves out—my staff must clean the ballroom posthaste. Oh, but before you completely leave… Rajira, would you care to linger for a private conversation?
Rajira: Of course, O Queen.
 
The rest of us don’t bother to mill outside - it’s pretty obvious that Rajira won’t be home tonight. 
 
Terzo: How did Rajira manage to dislocate her jaw like that?
Mahat: Like this *does the same*
Civilla: … wait, are you truly that oblivious? Out of everybody here there are only two pure-blooded humans. 
Terzo: … wait, what… Even you?!
Civilla OoC: ‘When a Hag and an unwilling male don’t love each other at all..’
Ayva OoC: ‘When a Hag successfully catfishes an adventurer…’
 

Pathfinder : Hell's Rebel's - Seaside Rendezvous
 
It would appear the criminal underground in Kintargo has a better information network than Thrune does. We know this for two reasons - 1) We haven’t been arrested and gruesomely executed, and 2) The head of the nascent Thieves Guild approaches us to ask if we intend to do to them what we did to the Grey Spiders. We don’t - a new organized crime network isn’t really a concern at the moment. Some of us certainly have PLANS for Kintargo, and they probably aren’t as utopian as Terzo’s, but the woman in question accepts our neutrality and even offers a few magical items to seal our non-aggression pact. 
 
Speaking of pacts, there’s a few issues in the wider geopolitical situation we have to pay attention to - making alliances to strangle the Chellish government’s ability to respond to the rebellion, and ensuring that international trade keeps coming through Kintargo whether Barzillai the Dogf***er likes it or not. Although we hear that there’s a much larger and shockingly successful rebellion happening in other parts of the Chellish Empire ( or what’s left of it). They’re mobilizing their armies in response, but all far away from Kintargo. Now might be the perfect time for Kintargo to break free entirely. 
 
The noble families of Kintargo have been getting a bit stirred up too - Thrune’s arrogance must be rubbing them the wrong way. Either that or they miss going to the Opera - Thrune again. It’s remotely possible that the extermination of the Victocora family is also a factor, and not just an opportunity for them to snap up property at bargain prices (Fire Sale! Everything Must Go!). The families in question, and members of the so-called Court of Coin -
 
Archbaroness Eldonna Aulamaxa - Lover of hunting and the Kintargan Opera. That combination certainly implies a build like Sybil Ramkin and opera tastes leaning towards the Germanic.  Count Auxis Aulorian - Controls Salt and Silver in Kintargo, currently looking for his son who mysteriously vanished, knows a lot about the workings of the new Kintargan government, May possibly be bribed?  
Civilla: Never use the same lever on two people - his son is already our 'in' with Captain Sargaeta. 
 
Archbaroness Melodia Delronge - Interests in Horsemanship, Mercantilism and Hunting, Currently allied with the throne. Baroness Belcara Jarvis - The Jarvis Clan are builders and Architects. Fairly down to earth. Baron Canton Jhaltero - Long family feud with the Alazarios, Rival Intelligence network, trades in Stone and Silver, Combining both networks could be useful  
Civilla: It's already obvious that our clans see eye to eye and therefore don’t like each other. 
 
The Sarinis used to have a presence in Kintargo but recently the last few left in some haste. Probably related to that little incident with the gate to hell, and the local patriarch being eaten. House Sarini is one of the better-known noble families of Cheliax, for no good reason - they’re nicknamed the "Fools of Thrune" or the "Lapdogs of Hell". Members of the house are often sent to amuse crowds at public executions in the capitol entertaining the common folk with their dark and violent humor. It is currently unknown whether members of this house do this voluntarily, or if their debased profession is a result of an offense against House Thrune.
 
Count Geoff Tanessen - Blacksmiths, Military tacticians and Suppliers, Armorers Baron Sendi Vashnarstill - House Vashnarstill are known to be more more loyal to the city of Kintargo itself than to the Chelish Crown or House Thrune. Their business interests are known to include fishing, trade with distant Arcadia, and shipbuilding.  
The Alazario’s aren’t members of the Court of Coin, for a couple of reasons. Being spread so thinly within and without the Empire doesn’t help, and repeatedly butting heads with the ruling family does them no favours at all. We do have one way to influence Archbaroness Aulamaxa - between Civilla’s tea circle, and Terzo and Rajira’s opera connections, we can meet her socially and introduce Rajira as a Diva-in-Training. Since we’ve been scrupulously careful to avoid notoriety, there’s all kinds of social events we can arrange without attracting suspicion from Thrune. We’re the Ghosts of Kintargo - the Inquisitor is probably certain that SOMETHING is going on, but we’ve left no clues about how many of us there are, or how organized. 
 
Civilla: Stuff keeps HAPPENING. Once is happenstance, twice is coincidence, three times is enemy action.
Ayva: There was that time we got the prisoners out of the jail…
GM: That was supposed to be a jailbreak! You just walked in with clipboards!
 
Rajira and Terzo put together a little piece for Rajira to perform, based on Aulamaxa family history, and hunting. It goes quite well. 
 
Rumourmongers: Heard from a merchant ship that sailed too close to the Dismal Niche that there were strange fires burning on the shore. Place is haunted, for sure. Who in their right mind would live there?
Ayva: Let's put ‘possible undead’ down on the list, OK?
Rumourmongers: Heard that Thrune’s going to throw a costume ball for the city at the opera house, and that invitations will be going out across all walks of life. If that’s true... maybe Barzillai isn’t all bad?
Terzo: He’s never struck me as a very sociable person - what’s his real motivation?
Rajira: This is a major costume ball - these things aren’t about being sociable. It’s all politics.
GM: Maybe he’s trying to soften his public image.
Civilla: We’ve been saying for some time now that he BADLY misjudged this city.
Rajira: If it happens, I’m going, whether I got an invite or not.
Civilla: But this is a diabolist we’re talking about.
Ayva: It does smack of ‘gathering components’.
Civilla: ‘Zone of Truth’.
Rajira OoC: Why can’t it wait until I go up another level!
Civilla: I know, I feel your pain…
Rajira: I'll have protection against Truth magic then…
Ayva: I’m going to have to do so many Tattoo Guardians…
Rumourmongers: Menador Gap’s all but closed to traffic, with one of the lord-mayor’s distant relations overseeing the closure. Only Thrune loyalists are being allowed through the pass!
 
There’s all sorts of factors that make organizing an uprising in a fantasy setting difficult, and some of those reasons are truth spells and telepathy.  
 
Ayva: “We’re going to mindread your kid, because kids hear EVERYTHING.”
 
We decide to investigate the reports from the Dismal Niche - it might be a way to build an alliance with the nearest Sea Elf city, if we’re lucky, and Captain Sargeata can get us there much faster than trying to get there overland. 
 
Rajira: We really aren’t designed for operating in the wilderness.
Civilla: I did just learn Secure Shelter.
Rajira: And we’re probably going to be using that spell a lot, without ever leaving the city, unfortunately. 
 
There’s also been a development in that toll to cross the bridge between the north and southern parts of town - hardly anybody paid it, because any blackshirts that tried to enforce it ended up at the bottom of the river, but now the toll is being enforced by Hellknights of the Order of the Rack, and it’s been increased to a gold piece per trip, or ten for a day pass. This, of course, is calculated to infuriate the rich half of town, because they now can’t get their services and supplies, and the stevedores can’t get from their homes to the docks.
 
Terzo: … wow.
Civilla: He really wants to strangle the internal trade in Kintargo, doesn’t he?
 
There’s been a sudden increase of unofficial ferry services across the river. Can’t imagine why. On the other hand, since the bounty on rats still stands, and Ayva has magical pigments, she can paint a fresh pile of dead rats every day and exchange them for a day pass, with the added bonus that she gets to dump thousands of dead rats at the feet of the Hellknights. Daily. 
It’s probably a good opportunity to recruit the Jarvis clan, and build a pontoon bridge. And start a strike by the night soil men. 
 
Civilla: And believe me, everybody takes a strike by the gongfarmers seriously. 
Ayva: How high is it going to get? Pretty damn high.
 
Even if Lord-Mayor Thrune had to use forced labour to empty the chamber pots and latrines of Kintargo, it'd be a major drain on his resources. On the other hand, it would not go well for the strikers, so it’s probably just as well that the rich part of town actually has a working sewer system. 
 
Terzo’s player: What can we do without Civilla available? Not that we can rely on all the characters being available whenever rebellion business needs doing. Rebellions are even more difficult to organize than regular gaming sessions.
 
Random encounter table! In the form of suddenly listing sharply in the middle of the night, in what should be suitably deep water.
 
Terzo: Is this one of those roaming sandbanks we hear so much about?
 
It’s actually a roaming gigantic crab, clambering up the side of the ship.
 
Terzo: I presume Civilla hit her head below decks somewhere. Is the Poison Pen about?
GM: The Captain doesn’t want his little Boopsy hurt.
Avya: He’s a noble, and therefore useless.
Rajira: Not entirely, they tend to have some skills.
Avya: Well yes, but for the purposes of combat with a giant crab?
 
Ayva: I’ll Cast Fireball!
GM: On a Wooden Ship?!
Rajira’s Player: With one of us grappled and in its square?
Ayva: Maybe Scorching Ray, then.
Terzo: Unfortunately most of my more potent spells require the crab to know Common. Can anybody Awaken it?
Ayva: Sure, if we have an hour and some silver to spare.
 
Captain Sageata proves why he’s the best captain in the fleet by Rolling a ridiculous Crit, severing both claws, eyestalks, and ramming his cutlass hilt deep into its ventral nerve cord. 
 
Rajira: Now the only question is ‘how much butter do we have on board’?
Terzo: Technically speaking I suppose you could eat most of our enemies, but it tends to be socially frowned upon. 
 
Terzo’s player: You do have to wonder why Willy Wonka thought random golden tickets would be a good way to find someone who can run a confectionary factory - unless he was looking for someone to take the fall when the immigration department takes an interest in all those Oompa-Loompas. 
 
The sea-elf village out this way is a sorry affair, and the resident half-elves that gather as we approach look nervous, haggard, and sickly. 
 
Fullblooded Sea-Elf: Who are you interlopers! You are not welcome!
Rajira: A bit rude to say that when you don’t even know why we’re here. 
 
Whatever illness currently plaguing the village is a serious one - quite a few of the villagers are near death. Fortunately our high skill with diplomacy and offer of healing goes a long way towards resolving matters. Although their Speaker, an elderly half-elf woman, tells us that the illness cannot be healed by normal means, and is the result of a foul miasma emanating from the Drowned Eye. The Eye is an underwater haunted pit, recently unsealed. She can help us with the breathing-underwater too, if we need it, although Civilla already has a Wand of Waterbreathing.
 
There are plenty of advantages to living in a city, but unfortunately it does leave one at something of a disadvantage when it comes to operating out in the countryside, where the wildlife tends to be a bit more energetic, and sometimes eldritch. Pigeons are a bit less dangerous than sharks, and a lot less dangerous than underwater zombies.
 
Terzo OoC: Of course Jaws 2 is also a great example of why it’s important to vote in local elections.
 
The wildlife isn’t the only thing eldritch about the Dismal Nitch either - it turns out the Drowned Eye projects a powerful compulsion to passing sailors to jump overboard. Not that it makes much difference to us, we were all going to jump into the underwater sinkhole anyway. Because, as previously mentioned, we’re way out of depth when it comes to countryside adventuring. 
 
We’ve never heard of nitrogen narcosis, for example.
 
Terzo OoC: Now why am I thinking of the anglerfish seen from Finding Nemo…
Rajira OoC: I’m thinking of the Navy SEAL leader from The Abyss myself.
 
Civilla: huh, shark. Wait, SHARK! NOT MY SHARK!
Ayva: We’ve going to need a bigger shark.
 
The gigantic undead selachian coming up the shaft is as long as ten men.
 
Civilla OoC: Well we already knew Civilla was a Snack. 
 
Rajira: Sharko!
Terzo’s player: Shako was a polar bear (and on a CIA death list)
Rajira’s player: OK, Hookjaw.
Terzo’s player: Better.
Civilla’s player: Bruce.
 
GM: Describe the kill!
Terzo’s player: Healing energy ripple across the undead flesh, generating visually disturbing waves of regeneration that react catastrophically with the negative energy animating its flesh, and it blows apart into fish fingers. 
Ayva’s player: I’d have said it explodes like somebody stuffed a compressed gas canister into its mouth and shot it. 
Rajira’s player: That IS traditional with sharks. 
 
The cavern at the bottom of the shaft has more undead, one in a captain’s hat. 
 
Draugr Captain: YARRBBLRR!  *knocks Mahat into a wall and deals negative levels*
 
Black Tentacles prove most effective, which is surprising since tentacles are most common underwater so you’d think underwater zombies would be used to them. But as we turn to return to the surface (hopefully without dying of The Bends) the spirit of an aquatic elf woman appears - is it nothing but undead down here? No wonder the neighbours are complaining. 
Apparently she’s the ghost of an elven druid who died trying to rebuild the protections around the Drowned Eye, and she’s quite surprised no sea elves showed up to deal with the situation at any point in the last few hundred years. 
 
Civilla: I’m afraid the current sea elves are, ah, not available. They’ve all come down very ill.
Menota the Druid Ghost: Ah. So that’s how the Evil has manifested. I don’t suppose any of you are druids?
Civilla: *would choke on her drink if she wasn’t already underwater*
Ayva: Armour, leather studded armour, so, no.
 
Terzo has missed most of this conversation since he’s still struggling in midwater like a quail chick in zero gee. At least we can go fetch the living elf druid Athannah from the surface now we’ve cleared up all the more feisty undead, as well as any material components the ghost needs for the ritual. 
 
Civilla: Would a Bishop Agathion serve the purpose? I have friends.
Terzo: *still oblivious to Civilla’s deals with extra-dimensional Powers* And four of them are right here.
Civilla OoC: I had to cut myself off from saying ‘I have friends on the other side’, because that’s an entirely different arrangement. 
 
Apparently based on his ability to summon pigeons, Bert from Sesame Street is a Druid. And Ernie is a Warlock, because he can summon fish and Boogie-Woogie Sheep. 
The sickly sea elves are a bit surprised to see us return, without reliving their symptoms.
 
Civilla: We’re working on it. 
Terzo: Assuming the ghost isn’t actually the Evil in disguise, and trying to lure the only living elf druid in the vicinity to her doom. Is there any way to check the moral alignment of a ghost?
Civilla: … yes, but it’s a bit late to bring that up NOW. 
 
It’s certainly a bit suspicious that Athannah doesn’t recognise the name Menotha, but then it HAS been a few hundred years. The ranger Nerrenn who was so suspicious about us when we first arrived insists on coming with us, by way of apology. 
 
GM: So, who’s going back down?
Civilla: All of us, I suppose. Something’s bound to go wrong.
Terzo: And this way I get to say ‘I told you so’.
 
Terzo: So, how exactly has it gone wrong?
Civilla: Nerrenn is a bad guy and you were right about the ghost.
Terzo: *sigh* I try to be optimistic but it’s always so depressing when this sort of thing happens. 
 
Menotha gestures towards group minion Mahat, the most obvious fighter in the party, who fails his paltry Will save.
 
Menotha: You, come fight for me.
Rajira OoC: Mahat only has a Wisdom of 6.
Civilla OoC: Mahat has a “Won’t” Save.
 
Menotha vanishes into thin water when Civilla Dimension Jumps into the other underwater chamber, which is a bit strange. Even so, we have a mind-controlled Nerrin and Mahat to deal with. Only for Civilla’s Cohort, the Phoenix Arcanist Shimza Tismanescu, to dispel the mental domination on Mahat. Terzo’s attempts to do the same on the presumably enthralled Nerrenn fail. 
 
Rajira OoC: I’m *hoping* someone can break him out of it before I have to kill him.
 
In the other chamber we find out why the ghost vanished. 
 
Deep Telepathic Voice, Right Behind Civilla: You just HAD to get in the way, didn’t you. 
Civilla: Eep!
 
The Aboleth drops its other illusions - Civilla’s teleport happened to put her in the way of the line-of-sight illusion it was casting. She’s also in the worst possible square in the entire cave system - right in the creature’s cloud of lethal mutagenic slime. It menaces her with tentacles. 
 
Rajira OoC: I’ve seen enough hentai to know where this is going.
Aboleth: *Slimes Civilla*
Rajira OoC: It even comes with its own lube. 
 
Portia casts Confess on Nerrenn - a spell that causes damage on targets that don’t answer truthfully.
 
Portia: What’s my middle name?
 
Civilla, already in very bad shape and looking somewhat… boneless… Dimension Jumps back into the main chamber and warns us about her discovery, with an understandable amount of excitement.
 
Civilla: ABOLETH! KILL IT!
 
She sics three Celestial Sharks on the alien abomination. The rest of us are still trying to subdue the ranger, rescue the living druid, and kill the non-celestial shark the Aboleth has mind-controlled. At least the Aboleth is now pretty preoccupied trying to keep the Celestial Sharks hypnotised, because every time its concentration wavers it gets bitten again. We are also questioning the wisdom of bringing fire-based magical attacks underwater. If it doesn’t have flame does it boil the water instead?
 
Terzo: But what about the criminal penalties for poaching? 
 
Anya OoC: If there’s an underwater section in the mountain fortress part of the campaign I’m going to be monumentally p****d.
 
The Aboleth eventually gives up the non-illusory ghost, and cautious poking around reveals that there are in fact some runes down here. They’re in Aklo, a very unpleasant language. Civilla, of course, can read Aklo. And, indeed, the Aboleth language Alghollthu, which is even worse. 
 
Terzo: As much as I appreciate the fact you can decipher this, Civilla, but exactly what books have you been reading lately?
Civilla: Just the family library.
Terzo: Hmm. I question some of their purchases.
Civilla: Remind me, dear Terzo, what’s my family motto?
 

 
 
The base runes radiate negative energy into the surrounding environment, although there’s supposed to be a warding layer preventing that. 
 
Terzo: Can we change it so it radiates positive energy?
Civilla: The world is supposed to be in balance - that would cause entirely different problems.
 
Although Terzo’s suggestion does suggest to Civilla that the Aboleth was actually messing with the runes itself, apparently intending to summon something huge, aquatic, and undead. We are able to unravel the entire rune array, after Rajira disables the traps.
 
Anya: It’s like one of those sliding tile puzzles.
 
The sea elves are suitably grateful, and promise to assist the Ghosts of Kintargo in future. That will be handy if the Chellish Navy gets involved in suppressing the rebellion.
 
Terzo: Don’t blame Nerrenn - he was being mind-controlled by an Abomination.

 

 

Selversgard - Events of the Year #4
 
It has been a harsh Winter, with a lot of snow, and life has been hard for many. But Spring has now arrived, and with it, planting and the beginnings of the working year. Floating ice damaged several of the piers, which the current floodwaters haven't helped with. Blake is still Mayor (until the Spring equinox) and has steered the council into putting some good timbers aside for the repair work. Arram’s discovery of those ancient cisterns near town has got the interest of the council - Blake would like Arram and the usual troubleshooters to go investigate, in the hope that there will be at least one noteworthy positive in his tenure as Mayor.
 
Shev: I keep wondering why they send the school teacher out for this kind of thing, then I remember he’s probably one of the most powerful spellcasters in Selversgard.
Gonno OoC: No doubt the cisterns were discovered decades ago, and put into the ‘To Do’ list. 
Arram OoC: And their wives are getting a bit too friendly with the schoolteacher, let’s get him out of town for a bit.
Shev OoC: They want to find out what 18 Charisma looks like under the hood.
 
Gonno’s daughter Ionia has very sharp teeth, to the point that Shev provides a teething aid used by Ysoki infants - thick leather on the end of a stick, dipped in honey.
 
Shev: Let me know the first time she escapes her bassinet.
Gonno: *alarmed expression*
 
Arram: Anyway, thank you for letting us borrow your husband, we’re going to drop him in a cistern.
Galiante: He’ll be fine, especially if you drop him on his head.
Gonno: *amused snort*
Arram: I love this woman. In a purely platonic manner.
 
The site of the first cistern is overgrown with Redvine, a particularly vicious albeit natural plant with two-inch thorns. Further in there’s wild roses, even more refractory than the redvine, but in the middle is a marble statue of a naked elven girl. It looks like it was set up as a fountain, once.
 
Skave: Stop staring, Gonno, you’re married!
 
Skave, investigating the statue for whatever mechanism ran the pump, discovers that the whole thing rotates to reveal an inspection hatch for the cistern, which is over 100ft across. That’s enormous, considering none of us are aware of any ancient settlements anywhere near Selversgard that would have required that much water. Skave uses his recently booklearned knowledge of architecture to figure out this cistern is likely Thassalonian.
 
Skave: Amazing! Selversgard must have been built upon the ruins of an ancient Thassalonian Civilization!
Arram: Most of *Varisia* is built on the ruins of an ancient Thassalonian civilization.  
 
We descend into the tank.
 
Gonno OoC: So on top of having real jobs we’re apparently also part-time plumbers.
Skave OoC: If we go through a pipe and end up in a kingdom of mushrooms, I’m out of here.
 
The only pipe we can actually see is the one leading up to the fountain, although there’s also a larger barred opening in the floor that probably leads to the other cisterns. The entire place is weirdly pristine - there’s nothing organic down here at all.
 
Gonno: Hmm. (remind me, can Gelatinous Cubes squeeze through bars?)
GM: Indeed they can.
 
It’s just as well Arram lobs a glowing stone ahead of us as we inspect the connecting pipes - there is indeed a transparent ooze filling the pipe, and creeping in our direction. A certain amount of cursing ensues - so many of us have Darkvision that we didn’t bother bringing torches. 
 
Peanut Gallery: All villager mobs must carry torches and pitchforks! It’s mandatory!
 
It doesn’t help that Shev’s musket keeps misfiring on the second shot. 
 
The Gelatinous Cube had also eaten a few coins and something that Skave confidently announces is a Gelatinous Cube egg, until he gets a closer look and realises it’s the thorax of a very very big ant. Maybe there was something to those rumours last year. We advance down the tunnel, carefully probing ahead with ten foot poles and glowing rocks. The next cistern is partly collapsed. Unfortunately the first three people that climb up from the connecting tunnel fail their perception checks and blunder into the snare lines of a giant black widow spider. There’s another dead giant ant here too. They might be coming through the hole in the wall. And the grate underneath the third cistern is covered with some kind of papery substance. Miya drills through it, and gets a faceful of some foul-smelling powder in her face in response. It’s ant frass. 
 
This is a problem - drowning out the nest will poison the cisterns, even if we could somehow set up a flume to refill the tanks without being swarmed. 

 

Selversgard - Events of the Year #4
 
It has been a harsh Winter, with a lot of snow, and life has been hard for many. But Spring has now arrived, and with it, planting and the beginnings of the working year. Floating ice damaged several of the piers, which the current floodwaters haven't helped with. Blake is still Mayor (until the Spring equinox) and has steered the council into putting some good timbers aside for the repair work. Arram’s discovery of those ancient cisterns near town has got the interest of the council - Blake would like Arram and the usual troubleshooters to go investigate, in the hope that there will be at least one noteworthy positive in his tenure as Mayor.
 
Shev: I keep wondering why they send the school teacher out for this kind of thing, then I remember he’s probably one of the most powerful spellcasters in Selversgard.
Gonno OoC: No doubt the cisterns were discovered decades ago, and put into the ‘To Do’ list. 
Arram OoC: And their wives are getting a bit too friendly with the schoolteacher, let’s get him out of town for a bit.
Shev OoC: They want to find out what 18 Charisma looks like under the hood.
 
Gonno’s daughter Ionia has very sharp teeth, to the point that Shev provides a teething aid used by Ysoki infants - thick leather on the end of a stick, dipped in honey.
 
Shev: Let me know the first time she escapes her bassinet.
Gonno: *alarmed expression*
 
Arram: Anyway, thank you for letting us borrow your husband, we’re going to drop him in a cistern.
Galiante: He’ll be fine, especially if you drop him on his head.
Gonno: *amused snort*
Arram: I love this woman. In a purely platonic manner.
 
The site of the first cistern is overgrown with Redvine, a particularly vicious albeit natural plant with two-inch thorns. Further in there’s wild roses, even more refractory than the redvine, but in the middle is a marble statue of a naked elven girl. It looks like it was set up as a fountain, once.
 
Skave: Stop staring, Gonno, you’re married!
 
Skave, investigating the statue for whatever mechanism ran the pump, discovers that the whole thing rotates to reveal an inspection hatch for the cistern, which is over 100ft across. That’s enormous, considering none of us are aware of any ancient settlements anywhere near Selversgard that would have required that much water. Skave uses his recently booklearned knowledge of architecture to figure out this cistern is likely Thassalonian.
 
Skave: Amazing! Selversgard must have been built upon the ruins of an ancient Thassalonian Civilization!
Arram: Most of *Varisia* is built on the ruins of an ancient Thassalonian civilization.  
 
We descend into the tank.
 
Gonno OoC: So on top of having real jobs we’re apparently also part-time plumbers.
Skave OoC: If we go through a pipe and end up in a kingdom of mushrooms, I’m out of here.
 
The only pipe we can actually see is the one leading up to the fountain, although there’s also a larger barred opening in the floor that probably leads to the other cisterns. The entire place is weirdly pristine - there’s nothing organic down here at all.
 
Gonno: Hmm. (remind me, can Gelatinous Cubes squeeze through bars?)
GM: Indeed they can.
 
It’s just as well Arram lobs a glowing stone ahead of us as we inspect the connecting pipes - there is indeed a transparent ooze filling the pipe, and creeping in our direction. A certain amount of cursing ensues - so many of us have Darkvision that we didn’t bother bringing torches. 
 
Peanut Gallery: All villager mobs must carry torches and pitchforks! It’s mandatory!
 
It doesn’t help that Shev’s musket keeps misfiring on the second shot. 
 
The Gelatinous Cube had also eaten a few coins and something that Skave confidently announces is a Gelatinous Cube egg, until he gets a closer look and realises it’s the thorax of a very very big ant. Maybe there was something to those rumours last year. We advance down the tunnel, carefully probing ahead with ten foot poles and glowing rocks. The next cistern is partly collapsed. Unfortunately the first three people that climb up from the connecting tunnel fail their perception checks and blunder into the snare lines of a giant black widow spider. There’s another dead giant ant here too. They might be coming through the hole in the wall. And the grate underneath the third cistern is covered with some kind of papery substance. Miya drills through it, and gets a faceful of some foul-smelling powder in her face in response. It’s ant frass. 
 
This is a problem - drowning out the nest will poison the cisterns, even if we could somehow set up a flume to refill the tanks without being swarmed. 

 

Pathfinder : Hell's Rebels - Face It Alone

We return to Kintargo, re-equip everything we burned through trying to burn through the Aboleth, and depart again to visit Vyre, on Vyre Island. 
 
GM: Think of it as Kintargo’s New Jersey. 
Terzo: So we could have returned to Kintargo via Vyre?
 
Vyre is known as the City of Masks, because it’s traditional to go about in disguise, to better enjoy all the illicit activities that form the bulk of Vyre’s economy.
 
Terzo OoC: Everything’s Legal In New Jersey.
Rajira OoC: As long as you don’t get caught.
 
A largely freewheeling and chaotic city, Vyre is not entirely without laws. Five rules known as ‘Promises’ govern all residents and visitors, compact enough to be carved on statues throughout the city - "I Shall Honor All Coin", meaning all transactions are assumed final and binding and all prices are negotiable. This rule also prohibits theft. "I Shall Speak Many Names", meaning all people should accept any name given by a person Vyre, regardless of its veracity, and without ever revealing a person's identity if they conceal it. "I May Wound Yet Shall Not Kill", which requires people to let their enemies in Vyre live in order to give them a chance to avenge themselves. "I Know None Are Below Me", which discourages all forms of prejudice and discrimination. "I Shall Let Closed Doors Remain Closed", meaning all private secrets and acts must remain private, and any broken promises are assumed to be intact unless sufficient evidence is provided.
 
Terzo’s player: It’s honestly astonishing that the Chellaxians haven’t had the city magically nuked. 
Rajira’s player: It’s too useful - You don’t seal off your safety valve.
Civilla’s player: It’s a good place to have agents. It’s their Casablanca. And it has rules, and doesn’t necessarily oppose Thrune. 
 
Civilla is going to take advantage of the fact that the prohibition on other gods isn’t complete across Chelliax, by wearing a full-face opera mask that references her own goddess of choice. It’ll also magically conceal her Alignment. 
 
Terzo: Well, going masked won’t be a hardship for me - I used to go about in disguise on a regular basis, back when I was younger and more handsome.
 
We have a few objectives in the City of Masks - make certain arrangements regarding a number of warehouses in the city on behalf of one Molly Mayapple, and contact the ‘kings and queens’ of Vyre to try and garner support for the rebellion. Of course the ‘rulers’ don’t exactly advertise their whereabouts, even if the existing advertisements leave nothing to the imagination.
 
Terzo: *stopping in front of one and turning his head sideways* Hmm. Haven’t seen THAT one in a while.

Civilla: You know, Terzo, there might still be copies of your work here.
Terzo: *cheers up*
Civilla: After all they’re illicit now.
Terzo: *cheers up even more*
 
There’s a lot of aspirant Hellknights hanging around Vyre, rounding out their life experience before joining own of the Orders. They’re pretty obvious. The Mask of Blades are less obvious, but still too much of a semi-official militia to be the kind of people we want to meet. 
 
Rajira: I’m trying to spot the *private* spies. 
 
Rajira spots at least three other factions following us around.  Most of them are probably from Vyre’s various interest groups, but she’s most interested in contacting one of the Masks of Blood, who oversee the legal affairs of the citizens of Vyre and assist them against foreign interests. She has Mahat drop a message where it can reach the appropriate personages. Molly Mayapple, on the other hand, is much easier to find - she’s running a hostel called The Seven Apples. Convenient, since we need a place to stay. And you can book the rooms for the entire night here, instead of by the hour. At least we’re more professional than most adventuring groups, so she doesn’t direct us into the queue for the corner booth.
 
Civilla: You know who has it worse? The bar wench. Adventurers putting on AIRS. Trying to pay with platinum, or rubies. That’s why I always carry copper and silver - the COMMON coin.
Rajira: And then the money changers take a cut anyway.
Civilla: Right! So you’re not doing the innkeeper a big favour anyway - instead of saying ‘let me know when this runs out’, at say ‘Let me know when this runs out - and charge me double’
 
Molly agrees to talk in a back room - she’s not pleased when she sees we have all those deeds we found in the Grey Spider’s lair.
 
Molly: So, what brings the Grey Spiders to my door?
Civilla: Grey Spiders? No no, we recently came into possession of these deeds.
Molly: And now you’re going to extort money from me, after stealing them?
Rajira: We’re just going to give them to you.
Molly: For FREE?
Civilla: I think you’re suffering a misapprehension. We’re not the Grey Spiders. We’re The Rumour. The Whisper. Chance Incarnate. A group of prisoners just *happened* to walk out of a salt mine. Another walked out of the gaol before they were due to be executed.
Molly: … you’re from Across The River.
Civilla: Yes. 
Molly: And you’re just giving them to me?
Civilla: As a display of good will and the benefits of future co-operation.
Molly: *tears welling up* Excuse me a moment.
Ayva: I think we’ve broken our hostess. In less that 5 minutes
Rajira: Still not our best effort.
 
Molly promises to get us an invite to one of the Masked Balls (of course all balls are Masques on Vyre) and 800 platinum in a Handy Haversack so we can enjoy ourselves in town - she’ll make that back easily now she has the warehouse deeds again. Of course Civilla came prepared for our trip, with everything she needs as letters of introduction - or the tools to forge them.
 
Terzo: This isn’t why I taught you calligraphy, young lady. 
 
The current Queen is an atheist, apparently, so Civilla’s mask might be a problem at the ball. The other advice we get include ‘don’t mention the King, even though he’ll be there’,  where to get the brand new outfits and masks expected for one of these functions, and suitable price ranges for the required gifts for the Queen. Spiders, onyx jewelry, fine mead, salacious works of art, lacy gloves, fancy potion vials, flowers with black petals, Ustalavic novels, or exquisite banquet utensils are preferred. 
 
Civilla: Unusual combination - Ustalavic literature is all ‘we’re cold and miserable and by the end of the book half of us will be dead’.
Terzo OoC: So she’s a rich goth.
Civilla OoC: A rich THIRSTY goth. 
 
Given the price of custom glassware made in three days, it’s just as well Molly gave us that bagful of cash. 
 
Terzo: Perhaps I can find her a collection of salacious poetry.
Rajira: Possibly, have you written any?
Terzo: I can always offer to customise it with one I make up on the spot. Well, claim I came up with it on the spot. 
 
Rajira commissions a pair of potion vials in the form of coiling snakes, Civilla brings an obsidian dagger in an ivory sheath with an onyx spider on the outward side and a concealed symbol of Noticula on the inward side. Shimza brings a corset with a spider motif (and another concealed symbol of Noticula). Ayva is bringing a painting of a naked woman with a strategically positioned variety of colorful spiders “Lady with Spider” (Not a Typo), but then she is the artist of the group.
 
Civilla: I didn’t have time to do a sculpture, OK?
 
Dressed to the nines and possibly elevens we arrive at Cobweb Manor, an apparently decrepit building guarded by flesh golems in suits, and infested by fist-sized spiders,  where a small group is already gathered. Nine guests and their assorted attendants who don’t count. Molly is with our group.
 
Ayva: Oh good, that makes 14 guests - otherwise one of us is bound to be murdered.
Civilla: Does Shimza count as a guest or attendant?
 
We decide that Shimza counts as Civilla’s plus-one, regardless of what that does to the likelihood of horrible murder. Molly helps us with the public names and backgrounds of the other guests, despite their masks, but Civilla already knows most of them anyway. 
 
Anca Verezzian: Female Varisian human; orphaned ex-circus acrobat; chief of security at the Final Throw; eager and curious. Asmerru: aristocrat from Hinji; interests in halfling slave trade; shameless gossip. Elitu Rosewinter: Female halfling; wanted for murder in Augustana; out-of-work assassin; sadistic and prone to using grisly metaphor in idle conversation. An unknown elderly Tian woman, her grey hair tied in a bun in traditional fashion. Notable feature is a mole on her chin. Kekza Zenk: Female gnome; ex-adventurer; dancer at the Nine-Tails pub; incorrigibly flirtatious Morvira Crispin: Female Chelish human; madam; owns the Night Tea Room, a local brothel; enjoys giving people embarrassing or salacious nicknames. Sefuri Dendru: Male Garundi human; businessman; owns the Coughing Carbuncle, a local tavern; heavy and proud of it.  
Terzo (OoC): I’m sure there’s a fascinating story why it’s called the Coughing Carbuncle and I’m equally sure I don’t want to know.
Civilla (OoC): Do you know what a carbuncle is?
Terzo (OoC): The gemstone or the cluster of connected boils?
GM: There’s also a kind of lizard that plays dead - that was probably the inspiration for the name.
Ayva (OoC): You’re welcome to ask.
Civilla (OoC): I’m not.
 
Strephian: Male half-elf; businessman; owns the Blue Monkey game hall; heavy drinker who never seems to get drunk. Xoshak Zabrinni: Elderly male Keles***e human; businessman; owns local curio shop Zabrinni’s Discoveries; refers to self in third person.  
All very plausible victims or suspects in a murder mystery, but we’ll see how things turn out.
 
Rajira arrives in an emerald green dress, backless and ankle-length, with a subtle scale pattern, accessorized with an emerald choker of ridiculous expense. Her hair is tied back with an emerald silk ribbon, and she isn’t hiding her non-human heritage at all. Mahat on the other hand is posing as her attendant, and is dressed in a monotone grey suit. Civilla and Shimza’s outfits are even more expensive, being black with blue and off-white highlights, augmented by corsets of black silk, their silver brocade accented with azurite insets, and both brought griffon mane reversible cloaks. Civilla’s outfit includes the purple and orange of her house. Ayva is wearing a dress of many hues of blue that look like paint on silk canvas with ‘drips’ of sapphires from the sleeves and dress. Ayva’s offsider Portia is wearing a Pink Plush dress out of a princess fairy tale. Terzo’s less expensive outfit includes a Chellish doublet with slashed sleeves, in red and yellow.
 
Civilla: Please tell me that’s noble standard. Or at the very least courtier.
 
Perhaps predictably for a place called Cobweb Manor, lair of the Queen of Delights, the interior decorations lean towards spiderweb, magical chandeliers, and numerous paintings both varied and scandalous. The dining room already has a guest seated in the door nearest the entrance - a skeleton in a tophat.  Presumably this is the King nobody is supposed to comment on. Portia is made to sit next to him.  When Manticce Kaleeki the Queen of Delights - a stunningly beautiful tiefling woman with blood-red eyes, prominent horns, and a scaled tail, and the star of some of the more salacious paintings in the building - enters, she is greeted with a standing ovation.
 
Terzo (OoC): Of course I stand and join the ovation, I taught Civilla half the etiquette she knows.
Civilla (Ooc): Of course that was only half of what he tried to teach me. And I then had to figure out for myself which half actually applied. 
 
She welcomes us with a short speech, and promises a meal that we’ll remember for the rest of our lives. That’s not ominous at all. 
 
The Queen of Delights: Greetings, new friends and old, to my home. I see some familiar faces here, and some delightfully unfamiliar ones as well. It is always a pleasure to serve new tongues the delectable offerings of House Kaleekii, and I trust you shall remember the meal to come for the rest of your lives. Tonight’s banquet is brought to us by master chef Annatolintis Tasetas, all the way from Katapesh, and consists of four expertly prepared courses. I expect the conversation to be lively and thought-provoking, and as always, I shall accept your gifts during the serving of dessert. Without further ado, let us begin!
 
Civilla and Shimza promptly down some antitoxin. 
 
The Queen of Delights snaps her fingers, and a small army of servants, all clad in diaphanous white robes and wearing wraps of gauzy veils over their faces, emerges. The servants quickly move with dishes to each of the dinner guests, and all at once they remove the covers to reveal the first course: In front of each guest is a tureen of heady, boiling-hot liquid sitting atop a nest of five short candles. The liquid has a hypnotically metallic appearance, like that of mercury. Also in front of the guests is a smaller bowl in which swim five live minnows. Finally are a set of utensils that include a two-tined fork; a sharp, slender knife; and a spoonlike sieve. This would seem rather more difficult than remembering which one is the snail fork. Careful glances at the other guests suggests we’re supposed to poach and fillet the fish, and blow out the candles to let the Quick Soup cool. Mahat performs flawlessly, but Civilla is slightly irritated that Terzo is more dexterous at catching the live fish.

Portia, unfortunately, manages to lose all her fish onto the table, as do some of the other guests. One of them just dumps his fish into the soup.
 
Civilla: This would seem to be the host’s chance to show that her guests are fools. 
Rajira: I’m seriously considering botching one of the fish on purpose. 
 
While we wait for the second course the Queen of Delights comments on the current political situation on the mainland.
 
Queen: If such a small group of rebels can fight back so easily against the powers of Hell, then is House Thrune really able to say they are in charge?
Civilla: Kintargo has never truly been Chelaxian - it’s always been its own creature
Queen: Interesting - I was more referencing events in Westcrown.
Civilla: Perhaps it is simply that Barzillai grips too tightly.
Rajira: If you squeeze too tightly, most things slip between your fingers.
 
The slave-trader is so offended by this that he spills his soup, denying that there’s any situation in Chelliax. Rajira murmurs an observation about how a slave-trader is hardly going to admit that an uprising is likely. 
 
Ayva: Ah, the slap you DON’T hear around the room.
Civilla: I’m not claiming that it’s the Empress’s fault - merely that of those she has act in her stead.
 
The second course appears to be a braised human head. Fortunately it’s a specially shaped boiled squash. The spices in the sauce are rather more of a problem, at least for those of us that didn’t grow up in areas where vindaloo is babyfood. Some of us are glad they brought vials of antitoxin AND antiflame.

Rajira (in vishkanya, to Mahat): Varisians, thinking they can handle spicy foods…
Civilla (In perfect Vishkanya): Who are you calling Varisian?

Queen: You know, this very aptly reminds me of the nation of Galt. The nation’s Red Revolution has been going on for years now, and so many have been beheaded by the ‘final blades’. It makes one think, don’t you agree? All the pain and death that comes from their actions, sometimes to oppose the rightful rulers. Is it any wonder that some would label these rebels as domestic terrorists.  How is it that these revolutionaries justify this?
Terzo: I imagine they’ll say something like ‘the rose of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants.’
Civilla: *hisses* Do not use language like that!
 
Funnily enough two of the other guests do use language like that, and their argument becomes quite heated.

Queen: It seems we have our own rebellion growing at this very table!

She claps her hands in delight as the meat course is brought in - three large pies with golden, flaky crusts. The servants with the empty trays then line up behind the servant with the pies, who begin cutting large slices of the pies and giving those slices to the other servants. These servants then quickly go to each of the dinner guests and place a single piece of pie in front of each of them. The process of cutting and distributing the pies is insanely quick—the servants deftly deliver the pies to the guests within a minute of the first cut being made! Although, once the slices of pie are given, we discover the strangeness of this dish. The pies themselves appear to consist of crust and nothing else—yet while physics would dictate that the top of the crust would sag from lack of support, it doesn’t. It simply floats. Prodding between the crust reveals that there is indeed something of substance there, but it is simply invisible. Apparently it’s made from the flesh of an Invisible Stalker, and is supposed to be eaten before it reacts with the air. Rajira eats the entire slice whole, by dislocating her jaw. 

The Queen: Sin is very strange, don’t you think? What constitutes a ‘sin’ is very much a societal and cultural notion. For example, I’m sure many here would agree with the notion that cannibalism is a terrible and monstrous thing to do. But the gnolls of Garund have a very different idea—for they feast upon their own as a sign of reverence to the person’s life—almost like a funerary rite. They would hardly think twice of the moral implications of cannibalism, because to them there is no moral quandary. And yet, the ‘civilized folk’ label them as monsters who feast upon their own for the hell of it. We label one culture’s actions based on the cultural norms of another. Or, for a more close-to-home example, I personally believe that the worship of a deity is a sin, and yet here in Cheliax, worship of Asmodeus is all but required to avoid political backlash. It is fascinating, is it not? What one considers normal, another might consider terrible. So, let me ask you, my esteemed guests, as we let closed doors remain closed: what do you consider to be the greatest sin one can commit?

The Queen extends her hand to invite her guests to speak. After an awkward silence, it is the well-dressed half-elf who speaks first.

Strephian: Well, I would say wasting booze. 

This elicits a soft chuckle from a few of the guests—including the Queen.

Sefuri Dendru: Well, why that specific? I would say wasting food in general is a terrible thing to do. *proudly smacking his rotund belly*.
Kekza Zenk the flirtatious dancer: Well, I would have to say chastity. Just…no!
Xoshak Zabrinni: Xoshak believes fraud to be a terrible sin! You would never catch Xoshak doing such a thing!
Molly:  *thoughtfully pauses* Racism.
Asmerru the slaver: *glaring at Molly* It is a horrid thing to be disobedient to one’s superior.
Elitu Rosewinter, the halfling assassin: Heh. Resurrection.
Anca Verezzian: To give one’s trust is a great thing, but to abuse that trust…I have no pity for such a man.
Morvira Crispin: *clutches at a necklace that she is wearing and whimpers* N-neglecting your children…
 
The Queen of Delights turns her attention to the elderly Tian-Shu woman whom the PCs now realize has not spoken since the dinner began. She meets the Queen’s gaze, and the Tian woman’s words are spoken with pure venom and contempt: ”To invade another’s home.”

Terzo: To act against one's true self.
 
That, of course, goes down like a lead balloon in Vyre, and there are audible gasps around the table, but the Queen acknowledges it with interest, apparently realizing that Terzo is being perfectly sincere.
 
Rajira: To enter into an action knowing failure is the only option.
Ayva: To toil without purpose.
Civilla: I would say Pride - pure and simple. To pretend that there is nothing left to achieve, that that there is nothing left to do. None of us are perfect and all of us have room for improvement. 
 
This is an oblique reference to her faith in the Redeemer Queen, and the Queen apparently recognises it as ‘maybe you just haven’t found the right god yet’ and narrows her eyes.
 
The servants come back out with the desserts. The servants place the following in front of each of the dinner guests: A small plate covered by a silver lid, a strange device that looks like a little corkscrew, and a curious fist-sized object in the shape of a dodecahedron. The servants all simultaneously lift the lids, and a tumble of fat candied spiders pour out, their abdomens are much larger compared to their heads. The disproportional abdomens are about the size of a grape.
 
Civilla OoC: ‘So, which PCs have Disable Device?’
 
Unfortunately most guests do quite badly figuring out how to eat the dessert (or even opening the polyhedral puzzle box) so it gets a bit messy. At least the transdimensional d20s weren‘t Lament Configurations, and the mess is merely the dipping honey rather than blood and assorted organs. Shimza expresses her displeasure by skewering the spiders on her claws.
 
Rajira: *in Undercommon* Delicious.
Civilla: *in Undercommon* I wouldn’t know.
 
Then the Queen accepts the various gifts. She is generally quite pleased with them.
 
Ayva: I present, my lady, a modest painting of an immodest woman.
 
The guests mingle and eventually start to disperse, and Molly nudges us to indicate that it’s time to actually talk business with the host.
 
Rajira: An excellent meal, O Queen - pleasing to the belly and stimulating to the mind.
Queen: Thank you
Rajira: But I’m sure you are aware we are here for another purpose.
Queen: I am indeed, my darlings. And your performance tonight has already decided me. Now it is time for me to calculate your score.
Civilla OoC: Was that last bit the queen or the GM?
Terzo: In character for either.
Ayva OoC: ‘I must now count your BANQUET POINTS!’
 
The Queen is ready to support our overthrow of Thrune.
 
Queen: Of course Vyre will support your bid for freedom—this little banquet is nothing compared to the complex political machine at work. When the time comes to throw off Thrune’s shackles, Vyre will be there to aid you! Now, with all due respect, if you would please see yourselves out—my staff must clean the ballroom posthaste. Oh, but before you completely leave… Rajira, would you care to linger for a private conversation?
Rajira: Of course, O Queen.
 
The rest of us don’t bother to mill outside - it’s pretty obvious that Rajira won’t be home tonight. 
 
Terzo: How did Rajira manage to dislocate her jaw like that?
Mahat: Like this *does the same*
Civilla: … wait, are you truly that oblivious? Out of everybody here there are only two pure-blooded humans. 
Terzo: … wait, what… Even you?!
Civilla OoC: ‘When a Hag and an unwilling male don’t love each other at all..’
Ayva OoC: ‘When a Hag successfully catfishes an adventurer…’
 

Pathfinder : Hell's Rebel's - Seaside Rendezvous
 
It would appear the criminal underground in Kintargo has a better information network than Thrune does. We know this for two reasons - 1) We haven’t been arrested and gruesomely executed, and 2) The head of the nascent Thieves Guild approaches us to ask if we intend to do to them what we did to the Grey Spiders. We don’t - a new organized crime network isn’t really a concern at the moment. Some of us certainly have PLANS for Kintargo, and they probably aren’t as utopian as Terzo’s, but the woman in question accepts our neutrality and even offers a few magical items to seal our non-aggression pact. 
 
Speaking of pacts, there’s a few issues in the wider geopolitical situation we have to pay attention to - making alliances to strangle the Chellish government’s ability to respond to the rebellion, and ensuring that international trade keeps coming through Kintargo whether Barzillai the Dogf***er likes it or not. Although we hear that there’s a much larger and shockingly successful rebellion happening in other parts of the Chellish Empire ( or what’s left of it). They’re mobilizing their armies in response, but all far away from Kintargo. Now might be the perfect time for Kintargo to break free entirely. 
 
The noble families of Kintargo have been getting a bit stirred up too - Thrune’s arrogance must be rubbing them the wrong way. Either that or they miss going to the Opera - Thrune again. It’s remotely possible that the extermination of the Victocora family is also a factor, and not just an opportunity for them to snap up property at bargain prices (Fire Sale! Everything Must Go!). The families in question, and members of the so-called Court of Coin -
 
Archbaroness Eldonna Aulamaxa - Lover of hunting and the Kintargan Opera. That combination certainly implies a build like Sybil Ramkin and opera tastes leaning towards the Germanic.  Count Auxis Aulorian - Controls Salt and Silver in Kintargo, currently looking for his son who mysteriously vanished, knows a lot about the workings of the new Kintargan government, May possibly be bribed?  
Civilla: Never use the same lever on two people - his son is already our 'in' with Captain Sargaeta. 
 
Archbaroness Melodia Delronge - Interests in Horsemanship, Mercantilism and Hunting, Currently allied with the throne. Baroness Belcara Jarvis - The Jarvis Clan are builders and Architects. Fairly down to earth. Baron Canton Jhaltero - Long family feud with the Alazarios, Rival Intelligence network, trades in Stone and Silver, Combining both networks could be useful  
Civilla: It's already obvious that our clans see eye to eye and therefore don’t like each other. 
 
The Sarinis used to have a presence in Kintargo but recently the last few left in some haste. Probably related to that little incident with the gate to hell, and the local patriarch being eaten. House Sarini is one of the better-known noble families of Cheliax, for no good reason - they’re nicknamed the "Fools of Thrune" or the "Lapdogs of Hell". Members of the house are often sent to amuse crowds at public executions in the capitol entertaining the common folk with their dark and violent humor. It is currently unknown whether members of this house do this voluntarily, or if their debased profession is a result of an offense against House Thrune.
 
Count Geoff Tanessen - Blacksmiths, Military tacticians and Suppliers, Armorers Baron Sendi Vashnarstill - House Vashnarstill are known to be more more loyal to the city of Kintargo itself than to the Chelish Crown or House Thrune. Their business interests are known to include fishing, trade with distant Arcadia, and shipbuilding.  
The Alazario’s aren’t members of the Court of Coin, for a couple of reasons. Being spread so thinly within and without the Empire doesn’t help, and repeatedly butting heads with the ruling family does them no favours at all. We do have one way to influence Archbaroness Aulamaxa - between Civilla’s tea circle, and Terzo and Rajira’s opera connections, we can meet her socially and introduce Rajira as a Diva-in-Training. Since we’ve been scrupulously careful to avoid notoriety, there’s all kinds of social events we can arrange without attracting suspicion from Thrune. We’re the Ghosts of Kintargo - the Inquisitor is probably certain that SOMETHING is going on, but we’ve left no clues about how many of us there are, or how organized. 
 
Civilla: Stuff keeps HAPPENING. Once is happenstance, twice is coincidence, three times is enemy action.
Ayva: There was that time we got the prisoners out of the jail…
GM: That was supposed to be a jailbreak! You just walked in with clipboards!
 
Rajira and Terzo put together a little piece for Rajira to perform, based on Aulamaxa family history, and hunting. It goes quite well. 
 
Rumourmongers: Heard from a merchant ship that sailed too close to the Dismal Niche that there were strange fires burning on the shore. Place is haunted, for sure. Who in their right mind would live there?
Ayva: Let's put ‘possible undead’ down on the list, OK?
Rumourmongers: Heard that Thrune’s going to throw a costume ball for the city at the opera house, and that invitations will be going out across all walks of life. If that’s true... maybe Barzillai isn’t all bad?
Terzo: He’s never struck me as a very sociable person - what’s his real motivation?
Rajira: This is a major costume ball - these things aren’t about being sociable. It’s all politics.
GM: Maybe he’s trying to soften his public image.
Civilla: We’ve been saying for some time now that he BADLY misjudged this city.
Rajira: If it happens, I’m going, whether I got an invite or not.
Civilla: But this is a diabolist we’re talking about.
Ayva: It does smack of ‘gathering components’.
Civilla: ‘Zone of Truth’.
Rajira OoC: Why can’t it wait until I go up another level!
Civilla: I know, I feel your pain…
Rajira: I'll have protection against Truth magic then…
Ayva: I’m going to have to do so many Tattoo Guardians…
Rumourmongers: Menador Gap’s all but closed to traffic, with one of the lord-mayor’s distant relations overseeing the closure. Only Thrune loyalists are being allowed through the pass!
 
There’s all sorts of factors that make organizing an uprising in a fantasy setting difficult, and some of those reasons are truth spells and telepathy.  
 
Ayva: “We’re going to mindread your kid, because kids hear EVERYTHING.”
 
We decide to investigate the reports from the Dismal Niche - it might be a way to build an alliance with the nearest Sea Elf city, if we’re lucky, and Captain Sargeata can get us there much faster than trying to get there overland. 
 
Rajira: We really aren’t designed for operating in the wilderness.
Civilla: I did just learn Secure Shelter.
Rajira: And we’re probably going to be using that spell a lot, without ever leaving the city, unfortunately. 
 
There’s also been a development in that toll to cross the bridge between the north and southern parts of town - hardly anybody paid it, because any blackshirts that tried to enforce it ended up at the bottom of the river, but now the toll is being enforced by Hellknights of the Order of the Rack, and it’s been increased to a gold piece per trip, or ten for a day pass. This, of course, is calculated to infuriate the rich half of town, because they now can’t get their services and supplies, and the stevedores can’t get from their homes to the docks.
 
Terzo: … wow.
Civilla: He really wants to strangle the internal trade in Kintargo, doesn’t he?
 
There’s been a sudden increase of unofficial ferry services across the river. Can’t imagine why. On the other hand, since the bounty on rats still stands, and Ayva has magical pigments, she can paint a fresh pile of dead rats every day and exchange them for a day pass, with the added bonus that she gets to dump thousands of dead rats at the feet of the Hellknights. Daily. 
It’s probably a good opportunity to recruit the Jarvis clan, and build a pontoon bridge. And start a strike by the night soil men. 
 
Civilla: And believe me, everybody takes a strike by the gongfarmers seriously. 
Ayva: How high is it going to get? Pretty damn high.
 
Even if Lord-Mayor Thrune had to use forced labour to empty the chamber pots and latrines of Kintargo, it'd be a major drain on his resources. On the other hand, it would not go well for the strikers, so it’s probably just as well that the rich part of town actually has a working sewer system. 
 
Terzo’s player: What can we do without Civilla available? Not that we can rely on all the characters being available whenever rebellion business needs doing. Rebellions are even more difficult to organize than regular gaming sessions.
 
Random encounter table! In the form of suddenly listing sharply in the middle of the night, in what should be suitably deep water.
 
Terzo: Is this one of those roaming sandbanks we hear so much about?
 
It’s actually a roaming gigantic crab, clambering up the side of the ship.
 
Terzo: I presume Civilla hit her head below decks somewhere. Is the Poison Pen about?
GM: The Captain doesn’t want his little Boopsy hurt.
Avya: He’s a noble, and therefore useless.
Rajira: Not entirely, they tend to have some skills.
Avya: Well yes, but for the purposes of combat with a giant crab?
 
Ayva: I’ll Cast Fireball!
GM: On a Wooden Ship?!
Rajira’s Player: With one of us grappled and in its square?
Ayva: Maybe Scorching Ray, then.
Terzo: Unfortunately most of my more potent spells require the crab to know Common. Can anybody Awaken it?
Ayva: Sure, if we have an hour and some silver to spare.
 
Captain Sageata proves why he’s the best captain in the fleet by Rolling a ridiculous Crit, severing both claws, eyestalks, and ramming his cutlass hilt deep into its ventral nerve cord. 
 
Rajira: Now the only question is ‘how much butter do we have on board’?
Terzo: Technically speaking I suppose you could eat most of our enemies, but it tends to be socially frowned upon. 
 
Terzo’s player: You do have to wonder why Willy Wonka thought random golden tickets would be a good way to find someone who can run a confectionary factory - unless he was looking for someone to take the fall when the immigration department takes an interest in all those Oompa-Loompas. 
 
The sea-elf village out this way is a sorry affair, and the resident half-elves that gather as we approach look nervous, haggard, and sickly. 
 
Fullblooded Sea-Elf: Who are you interlopers! You are not welcome!
Rajira: A bit rude to say that when you don’t even know why we’re here. 
 
Whatever illness currently plaguing the village is a serious one - quite a few of the villagers are near death. Fortunately our high skill with diplomacy and offer of healing goes a long way towards resolving matters. Although their Speaker, an elderly half-elf woman, tells us that the illness cannot be healed by normal means, and is the result of a foul miasma emanating from the Drowned Eye. The Eye is an underwater haunted pit, recently unsealed. She can help us with the breathing-underwater too, if we need it, although Civilla already has a Wand of Waterbreathing.
 
There are plenty of advantages to living in a city, but unfortunately it does leave one at something of a disadvantage when it comes to operating out in the countryside, where the wildlife tends to be a bit more energetic, and sometimes eldritch. Pigeons are a bit less dangerous than sharks, and a lot less dangerous than underwater zombies.
 
Terzo OoC: Of course Jaws 2 is also a great example of why it’s important to vote in local elections.
 
The wildlife isn’t the only thing eldritch about the Dismal Nitch either - it turns out the Drowned Eye projects a powerful compulsion to passing sailors to jump overboard. Not that it makes much difference to us, we were all going to jump into the underwater sinkhole anyway. Because, as previously mentioned, we’re way out of depth when it comes to countryside adventuring. 
 
We’ve never heard of nitrogen narcosis, for example.
 
Terzo OoC: Now why am I thinking of the anglerfish seen from Finding Nemo…
Rajira OoC: I’m thinking of the Navy SEAL leader from The Abyss myself.
 
Civilla: huh, shark. Wait, SHARK! NOT MY SHARK!
Ayva: We’ve going to need a bigger shark.
 
The gigantic undead selachian coming up the shaft is as long as ten men.
 
Civilla OoC: Well we already knew Civilla was a Snack. 
 
Rajira: Sharko!
Terzo’s player: Shako was a polar bear (and on a CIA death list)
Rajira’s player: OK, Hookjaw.
Terzo’s player: Better.
Civilla’s player: Bruce.
 
GM: Describe the kill!
Terzo’s player: Healing energy ripple across the undead flesh, generating visually disturbing waves of regeneration that react catastrophically with the negative energy animating its flesh, and it blows apart into fish fingers. 
Ayva’s player: I’d have said it explodes like somebody stuffed a compressed gas canister into its mouth and shot it. 
Rajira’s player: That IS traditional with sharks. 
 
The cavern at the bottom of the shaft has more undead, one in a captain’s hat. 
 
Draugr Captain: YARRBBLRR!  *knocks Mahat into a wall and deals negative levels*
 
Black Tentacles prove most effective, which is surprising since tentacles are most common underwater so you’d think underwater zombies would be used to them. But as we turn to return to the surface (hopefully without dying of The Bends) the spirit of an aquatic elf woman appears - is it nothing but undead down here? No wonder the neighbours are complaining. 
Apparently she’s the ghost of an elven druid who died trying to rebuild the protections around the Drowned Eye, and she’s quite surprised no sea elves showed up to deal with the situation at any point in the last few hundred years. 
 
Civilla: I’m afraid the current sea elves are, ah, not available. They’ve all come down very ill.
Menota the Druid Ghost: Ah. So that’s how the Evil has manifested. I don’t suppose any of you are druids?
Civilla: *would choke on her drink if she wasn’t already underwater*
Ayva: Armour, leather studded armour, so, no.
 
Terzo has missed most of this conversation since he’s still struggling in midwater like a quail chick in zero gee. At least we can go fetch the living elf druid Athannah from the surface now we’ve cleared up all the more feisty undead, as well as any material components the ghost needs for the ritual. 
 
Civilla: Would a Bishop Agathion serve the purpose? I have friends.
Terzo: *still oblivious to Civilla’s deals with extra-dimensional Powers* And four of them are right here.
Civilla OoC: I had to cut myself off from saying ‘I have friends on the other side’, because that’s an entirely different arrangement. 
 
Apparently based on his ability to summon pigeons, Bert from Sesame Street is a Druid. And Ernie is a Warlock, because he can summon fish and Boogie-Woogie Sheep. 
The sickly sea elves are a bit surprised to see us return, without reliving their symptoms.
 
Civilla: We’re working on it. 
Terzo: Assuming the ghost isn’t actually the Evil in disguise, and trying to lure the only living elf druid in the vicinity to her doom. Is there any way to check the moral alignment of a ghost?
Civilla: … yes, but it’s a bit late to bring that up NOW. 
 
It’s certainly a bit suspicious that Athannah doesn’t recognise the name Menotha, but then it HAS been a few hundred years. The ranger Nerrenn who was so suspicious about us when we first arrived insists on coming with us, by way of apology. 
 
GM: So, who’s going back down?
Civilla: All of us, I suppose. Something’s bound to go wrong.
Terzo: And this way I get to say ‘I told you so’.
 
Terzo: So, how exactly has it gone wrong?
Civilla: Nerrenn is a bad guy and you were right about the ghost.
Terzo: *sigh* I try to be optimistic but it’s always so depressing when this sort of thing happens. 
 
Menotha gestures towards group minion Mahat, the most obvious fighter in the party, who fails his paltry Will save.
 
Menotha: You, come fight for me.
Rajira OoC: Mahat only has a Wisdom of 6.
Civilla OoC: Mahat has a “Won’t” Save.
 
Menotha vanishes into thin water when Civilla Dimension Jumps into the other underwater chamber, which is a bit strange. Even so, we have a mind-controlled Nerrin and Mahat to deal with. Only for Civilla’s Cohort, the Phoenix Arcanist Shimza Tismanescu, to dispel the mental domination on Mahat. Terzo’s attempts to do the same on the presumably enthralled Nerrenn fail. 
 
Rajira OoC: I’m *hoping* someone can break him out of it before I have to kill him.
 
In the other chamber we find out why the ghost vanished. 
 
Deep Telepathic Voice, Right Behind Civilla: You just HAD to get in the way, didn’t you. 
Civilla: Eep!
 
The Aboleth drops its other illusions - Civilla’s teleport happened to put her in the way of the line-of-sight illusion it was casting. She’s also in the worst possible square in the entire cave system - right in the creature’s cloud of lethal mutagenic slime. It menaces her with tentacles. 
 
Rajira OoC: I’ve seen enough hentai to know where this is going.
Aboleth: *Slimes Civilla*
Rajira OoC: It even comes with its own lube. 
 
Portia casts Confess on Nerrenn - a spell that causes damage on targets that don’t answer truthfully.
 
Portia: What’s my middle name?
 
Civilla, already in very bad shape and looking somewhat… boneless… Dimension Jumps back into the main chamber and warns us about her discovery, with an understandable amount of excitement.
 
Civilla: ABOLETH! KILL IT!
 
She sics three Celestial Sharks on the alien abomination. The rest of us are still trying to subdue the ranger, rescue the living druid, and kill the non-celestial shark the Aboleth has mind-controlled. At least the Aboleth is now pretty preoccupied trying to keep the Celestial Sharks hypnotised, because every time its concentration wavers it gets bitten again. We are also questioning the wisdom of bringing fire-based magical attacks underwater. If it doesn’t have flame does it boil the water instead?
 
Terzo: But what about the criminal penalties for poaching? 
 
Anya OoC: If there’s an underwater section in the mountain fortress part of the campaign I’m going to be monumentally p****d.
 
The Aboleth eventually gives up the non-illusory ghost, and cautious poking around reveals that there are in fact some runes down here. They’re in Aklo, a very unpleasant language. Civilla, of course, can read Aklo. And, indeed, the Aboleth language Alghollthu, which is even worse. 
 
Terzo: As much as I appreciate the fact you can decipher this, Civilla, but exactly what books have you been reading lately?
Civilla: Just the family library.
Terzo: Hmm. I question some of their purchases.
Civilla: Remind me, dear Terzo, what’s my family motto?
 

 
 
The base runes radiate negative energy into the surrounding environment, although there’s supposed to be a warding layer preventing that. 
 
Terzo: Can we change it so it radiates positive energy?
Civilla: The world is supposed to be in balance - that would cause entirely different problems.
 
Although Terzo’s suggestion does suggest to Civilla that the Aboleth was actually messing with the runes itself, apparently intending to summon something huge, aquatic, and undead. We are able to unravel the entire rune array, after Rajira disables the traps.
 
Anya: It’s like one of those sliding tile puzzles.
 
The sea elves are suitably grateful, and promise to assist the Ghosts of Kintargo in future. That will be handy if the Chellish Navy gets involved in suppressing the rebellion.
 
Terzo: Don’t blame Nerrenn - he was being mind-controlled by an Abomination.

 

 

Pathfinder : Hell's Rebel's - Seaside Rendezvous
 
It would appear the criminal underground in Kintargo has a better information network than Thrune does. We know this for two reasons - 1) We haven’t been arrested and gruesomely executed, and 2) The head of the nascent Thieves Guild approaches us to ask if we intend to do to them what we did to the Grey Spiders. We don’t - a new organized crime network isn’t really a concern at the moment. Some of us certainly have PLANS for Kintargo, and they probably aren’t as utopian as Terzo’s, but the woman in question accepts our neutrality and even offers a few magical items to seal our non-aggression pact. 
 
Speaking of pacts, there’s a few issues in the wider geopolitical situation we have to pay attention to - making alliances to strangle the Chellish government’s ability to respond to the rebellion, and ensuring that international trade keeps coming through Kintargo whether Barzillai the Dogf***er likes it or not. Although we hear that there’s a much larger and shockingly successful rebellion happening in other parts of the Chellish Empire ( or what’s left of it). They’re mobilizing their armies in response, but all far away from Kintargo. Now might be the perfect time for Kintargo to break free entirely. 
 
The noble families of Kintargo have been getting a bit stirred up too - Thrune’s arrogance must be rubbing them the wrong way. Either that or they miss going to the Opera - Thrune again. It’s remotely possible that the extermination of the Victocora family is also a factor, and not just an opportunity for them to snap up property at bargain prices (Fire Sale! Everything Must Go!). The families in question, and members of the so-called Court of Coin -
 
Archbaroness Eldonna Aulamaxa - Lover of hunting and the Kintargan Opera. That combination certainly implies a build like Sybil Ramkin and opera tastes leaning towards the Germanic.  Count Auxis Aulorian - Controls Salt and Silver in Kintargo, currently looking for his son who mysteriously vanished, knows a lot about the workings of the new Kintargan government, May possibly be bribed?  
Civilla: Never use the same lever on two people - his son is already our 'in' with Captain Sargaeta. 
 
Archbaroness Melodia Delronge - Interests in Horsemanship, Mercantilism and Hunting, Currently allied with the throne. Baroness Belcara Jarvis - The Jarvis Clan are builders and Architects. Fairly down to earth. Baron Canton Jhaltero - Long family feud with the Alazarios, Rival Intelligence network, trades in Stone and Silver, Combining both networks could be useful  
Civilla: It's already obvious that our clans see eye to eye and therefore don’t like each other. 
 
The Sarinis used to have a presence in Kintargo but recently the last few left in some haste. Probably related to that little incident with the gate to hell, and the local patriarch being eaten. House Sarini is one of the better-known noble families of Cheliax, for no good reason - they’re nicknamed the "Fools of Thrune" or the "Lapdogs of Hell". Members of the house are often sent to amuse crowds at public executions in the capitol entertaining the common folk with their dark and violent humor. It is currently unknown whether members of this house do this voluntarily, or if their debased profession is a result of an offense against House Thrune.
 
Count Geoff Tanessen - Blacksmiths, Military tacticians and Suppliers, Armorers Baron Sendi Vashnarstill - House Vashnarstill are known to be more more loyal to the city of Kintargo itself than to the Chelish Crown or House Thrune. Their business interests are known to include fishing, trade with distant Arcadia, and shipbuilding.  
The Alazario’s aren’t members of the Court of Coin, for a couple of reasons. Being spread so thinly within and without the Empire doesn’t help, and repeatedly butting heads with the ruling family does them no favours at all. We do have one way to influence Archbaroness Aulamaxa - between Civilla’s tea circle, and Terzo and Rajira’s opera connections, we can meet her socially and introduce Rajira as a Diva-in-Training. Since we’ve been scrupulously careful to avoid notoriety, there’s all kinds of social events we can arrange without attracting suspicion from Thrune. We’re the Ghosts of Kintargo - the Inquisitor is probably certain that SOMETHING is going on, but we’ve left no clues about how many of us there are, or how organized. 
 
Civilla: Stuff keeps HAPPENING. Once is happenstance, twice is coincidence, three times is enemy action.
Ayva: There was that time we got the prisoners out of the jail…
GM: That was supposed to be a jailbreak! You just walked in with clipboards!
 
Rajira and Terzo put together a little piece for Rajira to perform, based on Aulamaxa family history, and hunting. It goes quite well. 
 
Rumourmongers: Heard from a merchant ship that sailed too close to the Dismal Niche that there were strange fires burning on the shore. Place is haunted, for sure. Who in their right mind would live there?
Ayva: Let's put ‘possible undead’ down on the list, OK?
Rumourmongers: Heard that Thrune’s going to throw a costume ball for the city at the opera house, and that invitations will be going out across all walks of life. If that’s true... maybe Barzillai isn’t all bad?
Terzo: He’s never struck me as a very sociable person - what’s his real motivation?
Rajira: This is a major costume ball - these things aren’t about being sociable. It’s all politics.
GM: Maybe he’s trying to soften his public image.
Civilla: We’ve been saying for some time now that he BADLY misjudged this city.
Rajira: If it happens, I’m going, whether I got an invite or not.
Civilla: But this is a diabolist we’re talking about.
Ayva: It does smack of ‘gathering components’.
Civilla: ‘Zone of Truth’.
Rajira OoC: Why can’t it wait until I go up another level!
Civilla: I know, I feel your pain…
Rajira: I'll have protection against Truth magic then…
Ayva: I’m going to have to do so many Tattoo Guardians…
Rumourmongers: Menador Gap’s all but closed to traffic, with one of the lord-mayor’s distant relations overseeing the closure. Only Thrune loyalists are being allowed through the pass!
 
There’s all sorts of factors that make organizing an uprising in a fantasy setting difficult, and some of those reasons are truth spells and telepathy.  
 
Ayva: “We’re going to mindread your kid, because kids hear EVERYTHING.”
 
We decide to investigate the reports from the Dismal Niche - it might be a way to build an alliance with the nearest Sea Elf city, if we’re lucky, and Captain Sargeata can get us there much faster than trying to get there overland. 
 
Rajira: We really aren’t designed for operating in the wilderness.
Civilla: I did just learn Secure Shelter.
Rajira: And we’re probably going to be using that spell a lot, without ever leaving the city, unfortunately. 
 
There’s also been a development in that toll to cross the bridge between the north and southern parts of town - hardly anybody paid it, because any blackshirts that tried to enforce it ended up at the bottom of the river, but now the toll is being enforced by Hellknights of the Order of the Rack, and it’s been increased to a gold piece per trip, or ten for a day pass. This, of course, is calculated to infuriate the rich half of town, because they now can’t get their services and supplies, and the stevedores can’t get from their homes to the docks.
 
Terzo: … wow.
Civilla: He really wants to strangle the internal trade in Kintargo, doesn’t he?
 
There’s been a sudden increase of unofficial ferry services across the river. Can’t imagine why. On the other hand, since the bounty on rats still stands, and Ayva has magical pigments, she can paint a fresh pile of dead rats every day and exchange them for a day pass, with the added bonus that she gets to dump thousands of dead rats at the feet of the Hellknights. Daily. 
It’s probably a good opportunity to recruit the Jarvis clan, and build a pontoon bridge. And start a strike by the night soil men. 
 
Civilla: And believe me, everybody takes a strike by the gongfarmers seriously. 
Ayva: How high is it going to get? Pretty damn high.
 
Even if Lord-Mayor Thrune had to use forced labour to empty the chamber pots and latrines of Kintargo, it'd be a major drain on his resources. On the other hand, it would not go well for the strikers, so it’s probably just as well that the rich part of town actually has a working sewer system. 
 
Terzo’s player: What can we do without Civilla available? Not that we can rely on all the characters being available whenever rebellion business needs doing. Rebellions are even more difficult to organize than regular gaming sessions.
 
Random encounter table! In the form of suddenly listing sharply in the middle of the night, in what should be suitably deep water.
 
Terzo: Is this one of those roaming sandbanks we hear so much about?
 
It’s actually a roaming gigantic crab, clambering up the side of the ship.
 
Terzo: I presume Civilla hit her head below decks somewhere. Is the Poison Pen about?
GM: The Captain doesn’t want his little Boopsy hurt.
Avya: He’s a noble, and therefore useless.
Rajira: Not entirely, they tend to have some skills.
Avya: Well yes, but for the purposes of combat with a giant crab?
 
Ayva: I’ll Cast Fireball!
GM: On a Wooden Ship?!
Rajira’s Player: With one of us grappled and in its square?
Ayva: Maybe Scorching Ray, then.
Terzo: Unfortunately most of my more potent spells require the crab to know Common. Can anybody Awaken it?
Ayva: Sure, if we have an hour and some silver to spare.
 
Captain Sageata proves why he’s the best captain in the fleet by Rolling a ridiculous Crit, severing both claws, eyestalks, and ramming his cutlass hilt deep into its ventral nerve cord. 
 
Rajira: Now the only question is ‘how much butter do we have on board’?
Terzo: Technically speaking I suppose you could eat most of our enemies, but it tends to be socially frowned upon. 
 
Terzo’s player: You do have to wonder why Willy Wonka thought random golden tickets would be a good way to find someone who can run a confectionary factory - unless he was looking for someone to take the fall when the immigration department takes an interest in all those Oompa-Loompas. 
 
The sea-elf village out this way is a sorry affair, and the resident half-elves that gather as we approach look nervous, haggard, and sickly. 
 
Fullblooded Sea-Elf: Who are you interlopers! You are not welcome!
Rajira: A bit rude to say that when you don’t even know why we’re here. 
 
Whatever illness currently plaguing the village is a serious one - quite a few of the villagers are near death. Fortunately our high skill with diplomacy and offer of healing goes a long way towards resolving matters. Although their Speaker, an elderly half-elf woman, tells us that the illness cannot be healed by normal means, and is the result of a foul miasma emanating from the Drowned Eye. The Eye is an underwater haunted pit, recently unsealed. She can help us with the breathing-underwater too, if we need it, although Civilla already has a Wand of Waterbreathing.
 
There are plenty of advantages to living in a city, but unfortunately it does leave one at something of a disadvantage when it comes to operating out in the countryside, where the wildlife tends to be a bit more energetic, and sometimes eldritch. Pigeons are a bit less dangerous than sharks, and a lot less dangerous than underwater zombies.
 
Terzo OoC: Of course Jaws 2 is also a great example of why it’s important to vote in local elections.
 
The wildlife isn’t the only thing eldritch about the Dismal Nitch either - it turns out the Drowned Eye projects a powerful compulsion to passing sailors to jump overboard. Not that it makes much difference to us, we were all going to jump into the underwater sinkhole anyway. Because, as previously mentioned, we’re way out of depth when it comes to countryside adventuring. 
 
We’ve never heard of nitrogen narcosis, for example.
 
Terzo OoC: Now why am I thinking of the anglerfish seen from Finding Nemo…
Rajira OoC: I’m thinking of the Navy SEAL leader from The Abyss myself.
 
Civilla: huh, shark. Wait, SHARK! NOT MY SHARK!
Ayva: We’ve going to need a bigger shark.
 
The gigantic undead selachian coming up the shaft is as long as ten men.
 
Civilla OoC: Well we already knew Civilla was a Snack. 
 
Rajira: Sharko!
Terzo’s player: Shako was a polar bear (and on a CIA death list)
Rajira’s player: OK, Hookjaw.
Terzo’s player: Better.
Civilla’s player: Bruce.
 
GM: Describe the kill!
Terzo’s player: Healing energy ripple across the undead flesh, generating visually disturbing waves of regeneration that react catastrophically with the negative energy animating its flesh, and it blows apart into fish fingers. 
Ayva’s player: I’d have said it explodes like somebody stuffed a compressed gas canister into its mouth and shot it. 
Rajira’s player: That IS traditional with sharks. 
 
The cavern at the bottom of the shaft has more undead, one in a captain’s hat. 
 
Draugr Captain: YARRBBLRR!  *knocks Mahat into a wall and deals negative levels*
 
Black Tentacles prove most effective, which is surprising since tentacles are most common underwater so you’d think underwater zombies would be used to them. But as we turn to return to the surface (hopefully without dying of The Bends) the spirit of an aquatic elf woman appears - is it nothing but undead down here? No wonder the neighbours are complaining. 
Apparently she’s the ghost of an elven druid who died trying to rebuild the protections around the Drowned Eye, and she’s quite surprised no sea elves showed up to deal with the situation at any point in the last few hundred years. 
 
Civilla: I’m afraid the current sea elves are, ah, not available. They’ve all come down very ill.
Menota the Druid Ghost: Ah. So that’s how the Evil has manifested. I don’t suppose any of you are druids?
Civilla: *would choke on her drink if she wasn’t already underwater*
Ayva: Armour, leather studded armour, so, no.
 
Terzo has missed most of this conversation since he’s still struggling in midwater like a quail chick in zero gee. At least we can go fetch the living elf druid Athannah from the surface now we’ve cleared up all the more feisty undead, as well as any material components the ghost needs for the ritual. 
 
Civilla: Would a Bishop Agathion serve the purpose? I have friends.
Terzo: *still oblivious to Civilla’s deals with extra-dimensional Powers* And four of them are right here.
Civilla OoC: I had to cut myself off from saying ‘I have friends on the other side’, because that’s an entirely different arrangement. 
 
Apparently based on his ability to summon pigeons, Bert from Sesame Street is a Druid. And Ernie is a Warlock, because he can summon fish and Boogie-Woogie Sheep. 
The sickly sea elves are a bit surprised to see us return, without reliving their symptoms.
 
Civilla: We’re working on it. 
Terzo: Assuming the ghost isn’t actually the Evil in disguise, and trying to lure the only living elf druid in the vicinity to her doom. Is there any way to check the moral alignment of a ghost?
Civilla: … yes, but it’s a bit late to bring that up NOW. 
 
It’s certainly a bit suspicious that Athannah doesn’t recognise the name Menotha, but then it HAS been a few hundred years. The ranger Nerrenn who was so suspicious about us when we first arrived insists on coming with us, by way of apology. 
 
GM: So, who’s going back down?
Civilla: All of us, I suppose. Something’s bound to go wrong.
Terzo: And this way I get to say ‘I told you so’.
 
Terzo: So, how exactly has it gone wrong?
Civilla: Nerrenn is a bad guy and you were right about the ghost.
Terzo: *sigh* I try to be optimistic but it’s always so depressing when this sort of thing happens. 
 
Menotha gestures towards group minion Mahat, the most obvious fighter in the party, who fails his paltry Will save.
 
Menotha: You, come fight for me.
Rajira OoC: Mahat only has a Wisdom of 6.
Civilla OoC: Mahat has a “Won’t” Save.
 
Menotha vanishes into thin water when Civilla Dimension Jumps into the other underwater chamber, which is a bit strange. Even so, we have a mind-controlled Nerrin and Mahat to deal with. Only for Civilla’s Cohort, the Phoenix Arcanist Shimza Tismanescu, to dispel the mental domination on Mahat. Terzo’s attempts to do the same on the presumably enthralled Nerrenn fail. 
 
Rajira OoC: I’m *hoping* someone can break him out of it before I have to kill him.
 
In the other chamber we find out why the ghost vanished. 
 
Deep Telepathic Voice, Right Behind Civilla: You just HAD to get in the way, didn’t you. 
Civilla: Eep!
 
The Aboleth drops its other illusions - Civilla’s teleport happened to put her in the way of the line-of-sight illusion it was casting. She’s also in the worst possible square in the entire cave system - right in the creature’s cloud of lethal mutagenic slime. It menaces her with tentacles. 
 
Rajira OoC: I’ve seen enough hentai to know where this is going.
Aboleth: *Slimes Civilla*
Rajira OoC: It even comes with its own lube. 
 
Portia casts Confess on Nerrenn - a spell that causes damage on targets that don’t answer truthfully.
 
Portia: What’s my middle name?
 
Civilla, already in very bad shape and looking somewhat… boneless… Dimension Jumps back into the main chamber and warns us about her discovery, with an understandable amount of excitement.
 
Civilla: ABOLETH! KILL IT!
 
She sics three Celestial Sharks on the alien abomination. The rest of us are still trying to subdue the ranger, rescue the living druid, and kill the non-celestial shark the Aboleth has mind-controlled. At least the Aboleth is now pretty preoccupied trying to keep the Celestial Sharks hypnotised, because every time its concentration wavers it gets bitten again. We are also questioning the wisdom of bringing fire-based magical attacks underwater. If it doesn’t have flame does it boil the water instead?
 
Terzo: But what about the criminal penalties for poaching? 
 
Anya OoC: If there’s an underwater section in the mountain fortress part of the campaign I’m going to be monumentally p****d.
 
The Aboleth eventually gives up the non-illusory ghost, and cautious poking around reveals that there are in fact some runes down here. They’re in Aklo, a very unpleasant language. Civilla, of course, can read Aklo. And, indeed, the Aboleth language Alghollthu, which is even worse. 
 
Terzo: As much as I appreciate the fact you can decipher this, Civilla, but exactly what books have you been reading lately?
Civilla: Just the family library.
Terzo: Hmm. I question some of their purchases.
Civilla: Remind me, dear Terzo, what’s my family motto?
 

 
 
The base runes radiate negative energy into the surrounding environment, although there’s supposed to be a warding layer preventing that. 
 
Terzo: Can we change it so it radiates positive energy?
Civilla: The world is supposed to be in balance - that would cause entirely different problems.
 
Although Terzo’s suggestion does suggest to Civilla that the Aboleth was actually messing with the runes itself, apparently intending to summon something huge, aquatic, and undead. We are able to unravel the entire rune array, after Rajira disables the traps.
 
Anya: It’s like one of those sliding tile puzzles.
 
The sea elves are suitably grateful, and promise to assist the Ghosts of Kintargo in future. That will be handy if the Chellish Navy gets involved in suppressing the rebellion.
 
Terzo: Don’t blame Nerrenn - he was being mind-controlled by an Abomination.

 

 

The rural soap opera that is Tales of Selversgard continues. This year has been dry and hot, with plenty of grain production and solid hunting. Killane Shellsdotter has taken up the Mayorship, and has pushed fairly hard for the farming aspects of the community. As a result, several new ploughs and seeding wagons have been purchased for communal use. A couple of the woodcutters have sworn blind that they saw a couple of ants the size of horses during one cutting expedition. However, they admit they were quite drunk at the time, and the Druids have found nothing to confirm it.
 
Skave OoC: Just slightly over 4 grand in the GP pool. Being the town's Jesse Pinkman has its perks, I guess.
 
Gonno’s romantic partner, the runaway former sex-worker Galiante, retrains as a different kind of professional. That doesn't stop Gonno's rival from making various snide remarks. Hopefully this won’t escalate -  ignoring a person who has made it their goal in life to bully you does not work, in his experience. They just escalate until you've finally reached an important threshold and decide it will solve a lot of problems if you just hold their head underwater until they drown.
 
Skave OoC: Also, “something something the Oread's ability to become Rock Hard on Demand something something lewd joke” that promptly gets Skave bonked.
 

 
Skave: Hey, Big Bro, should I spend most of my money on this nifty hat that's supposed to make me smarter, or save up a bit more? 
Arram: …. He’s spending enough money to retire on, on a new hat.
Gonno OoC: Well, I can’t say that Skave has displayed much aptitude for sensible decisions since we’ve known him. 
Skave: Hey, it will make a nice heirloom for my descendants. 
 
It’s the Harvest Moon festival! The big orange moon on the horizon would be aptly described as pumpkin-like, if we had pumpkins on this continent. All the food that won’t last the winter gets set up on long tables, and the beer flows in jolly abundance. The cargo rafts are back from Magnimar, and bring with them Skave’s new hat and some documents that will help Arram translate that map he found. Apparently it’s grammatically terrible, in an obscure language, and deliberately obfuscatory. But now he knows where the map starts from. Gonno notes that the schoolteacher is more interested in the documents than the festival, taps him on the shoulder, and hands him a large beer. The festival kicks up a few notches after the kids go to bed.
 
GM: No doubt in coming weeks there will be a small rash of people going to the shrine-
Arram: To get their small rashes cured?
GM: Well, that too, but more quick handfastings, before other things start to show.
 
The village has accepted the Ratfolk (now numbering twelve) because they recognise them as very hardworking people, albeit furry. Skave is showing off his new hat when he hears harsh words coming from behind one of the buildings - certainly not in keeping with the mood of the party. It’s Gonno’s rival, saying some extremely nasty stuff about Galiante. And a bunch of other stuff, but at least Skave passes on the important information to Gonno. Gonno sighs, makes a small personal prayer for patience, and hands the Ysoki a plate of food.
 
Arram OoC: It’s nice to see (Gonno’s player) on the receiving end of information coming through the Scooter Filter for once, because Skave left out a LOT of information there.
 
Skave: Are you sure you don’t want to deal with this? I can brew you up some Black Lotus Extract.
Gonno: *looks shocked and gives a firm headshake of NO, and hands the ratman a mug of beer to go with the food* 
 
Galiante is certainly enjoying the party - her first ever Harvest Moon Festival - and dances up a storm. The Mayor concludes the festivities with a short speech, everybody toasts him loudly with the remaining beer, the priestess calls down the blessings of the gods on Selversgard, and eventually everybody staggers off to bed.
 
GM: The next morning dawns brightly - far too brightly for some of you. 
Skave: What’s on fire this time?
GM: Your head.
 
Arram is one of the few townsfolk who isn’t hungover, because he didn’t overindulge.
 
Arram: I mostly refrain from being smug.
 
We meet outside Marrisa’s shop, because she usually puts on a light, bland breakfast the morning after the festival. She knows her customers. Skave can certainly brew hangover cures, but they only last an hour.  Arram tells us about his treasure map discovery (or TreZZooR MaP), and most of us won’t be busy for the next few days. At least we don’t have to desecrate any corpses, since we already have the map and don’t need to cast the Create Treasure Map spell. Admittedly, Shev won’t be coming along - he’s off tracking something strange in the woods and missed the festival.
 
Skave: I feel the most independent I’ve ever felt in my life!
Arram: You’ll note Shev didn’t go on this trip until he had a dozen other rats to act as minders.
 
True, the path the map indicates is steep, and rather overgrown. As an added bonus, the blackberry bushes will all be ripe at this time of year, so detours will not be onerous. 
 
Arram: Good idea for a day trip - berrypicking and treasure.
 
Progress is swift - well before nightfall we reach a valley absolutely filled with ripe blackberry bushes. Even if there’s no treasure at the end of this we’ve found something the village will appreciate. Admittedly, we’ll have to contest it with whatever is snuffling around. 
 
Arram: So either pigs… or bears. 
Gonno OoC: At least owlbears aren’t equipped to snuffle.
 
We back off a bit and Gonno bangs some pots together. A ten-foot tall bear rears up.
 
Miya: When we tell the village about this we’ll have to include a warning : May Contain Bear.
GM: At least one bear. 
 
Still, there’s plenty of succulent berries to go around - the bear and the party move further apart, eat our fill, fill every container we can, and press on. Unfortunately, while there may have been a bridge previously, it’s collapsed. Gonno fells a tree across the chasm - his other professional skill is lumberjack after all, even if most of the year he's working with the end product. We do lose the trail towards evening, but at least we can look forward to a meal of berries, bread, and cheese - we feast like kings!
 
Fortunately, the Oread is alert enough to perceive the wolf-sized thing crawling towards the sleeping Miya. Gonno lobs a rock at what turns out to be a Giant Tick. Unfortunately even small ticks are difficult to discourage. Fortunately Gonno has the Evasion skill now and immediately dives for cover when he sees Skave pull out a firebomb. 
 
Gonno OoC: It’s like I get these premonitions whenever Skave is about to throw an area-effect weapon. 
 
The next day we reach a large bare patch on top of one of the larger hills - the treasure should be around here somewhere. And if it isn’t, the surrounding forest looks like it will be good for mushrooms. Digging swiftly reveals a brick ceiling, which explains why no trees are growing up here - although whoever built a brick dome and then buried it is a good question. It’s soft clay brick, which doesn’t tell us much, other than whoever built it didn’t know the climate is too wet for that kind of brick to last long. 
 
We set Skave to work removing the bricks. He’s the lightest of us, and even if the dome collapses he’s got 15ft of rope tied around his waist. Unfortunately, the chamber is only 10ft deep, so he hits the ground quite hard and then the rest of the bricks fall on him. We fish him out and examine the domed chamber and spiral staircase within. Shave prepares a healing infusion, but intends to save it for later in case he gets hurt again. 
 
GM: I remind you of the good advice that hit points belong in people, not in jars.
 
Whoever made these stairs was small, each step a third of the size that would suit a normal human. It might have been the same people that set the noose trap that grabs Gonno by the ankle and swings him out into open space. Or it might have been the distinctly spiderish humanoids that creep out of a mass of webbing and hiss at us. 
 
Ettercaps: LEEEEAVE! Our home, not yours!
Arram: We can do that. But first we need to retrieve our friend - do you have a ladder by any chance?
Ettercap: Meat! You leave, he stays.
Arram: Fair enough. *casts Burning Hands*
Miya: ‘We do not agree to your terms’
 
Perhaps predictably, Ettercaps have quite a venomous bite, and Gonno isn’t contributing much to the fight when he’s hanging by an ankle 20ft off the ground. True, the others deal with the creatures (fatally) but Arram is left barely alive and badly delirious.
 
Gonno OoC: Perhaps if we’d offered them some berries…
GM: Obligate carnivores.
Gonno OoC: Yeah, I was afraid of that.
 
The only other exit down here is behind the Ettercaps nest - there’s light back there too. We do find a magical spear stuck in the ettercaps latest meal, though. Being magical didn’t do the pig any good, but it didn’t stop the previous owner losing his spear either.
 
Miya: ‘What happened to the several-thousand-GP-worth of magical weapon?’ ‘It got stuck in a pig’.
 
We also find a symbol on the wall that matches one on the map - the wall seems to have a cavity behind it. It’s possible it’s a bricked up doorway. Miya drills a hole, and Gonno uses his Darkvision to discover a figure on the far side staring back at him. It’s a suit of armour. 
 
Gonno: *recoils in surprise* Someone back there…… Not moving…. Not moving AT ALL
Skave: So safe to knock the wall down?
Miya: May as well.
Arram: Bear in mind that we got this information from Gonno.
Miya: Sooo… a brusque report and not very informative?
Gonno OoC: A series of exciting telegrams. 
 
The room on the other side seems to have been set up for a halfling, and the armour and weapons are masterworked quality. There’s also a chest, but this one doesn’t try and eat us. It might well be trapped, but that doesn't stop Gonno turning it upside down and prying out the nails. It has quite a lot of silver and gem-quality citrine inside. It looks like one Lorcus, a notorious bandit from some 300 years ago, had this set up as a lair before some of the early Hellknights hunted him down. The Hellknights were quite smug about it, apparently, since the Arodenites had sent a paladin after him too and he was never seen again. The armour belonged to the paladin. Since there’s no church of Aroden anymore, it’s going to be quite difficult to get the armour back to anybody it should go to. Nearly impossible to find out if the halfling paladin had any family, either, unless there’s some surviving records at the ruined monastery. 
 
Gonno OoC: I suppose you can always just put in your museum of local history.
Miya: Sorry, not exhibit - a ‘reliquary’. 
 
Back to town with our treasure, and more importantly the location of Blackberry Valley.
 
One of the female Ysoki expresses an interest in co-habiting with Skave.
 
Skave: … …
Gonno’s player: ‘Big Brother, what do I do???’
Skave’s player: Pretty much. I really should determine Skave’s sexuality at some point.
Gonno’s player: Doesn’t matter - you still have your duty to the Warren. 
 
One of the town families has started complaining about Arram - they’re upset that his curriculum is mostly secular. So now he has an enemy too. 
 
Gonno player: No doubt whatever my rival was actually saying will come back to bite me later.
Arram’s player: Probably not - he was badmouthing you to one of the town guards, and the guard said ‘Dude, we like him better than you, so f*** off.’
 

Setting up Tabletop Simulator for the game 
 
Me: What the HELL is standing behind you?
Shev’s player: Wha- Oh, that’s Skave.
Me: Ah - so you're using the custom asset you made in HeroForge, and he’s using an actual gasmasked Skaven asset. 
GM: Yep. Which explains why the villagers react to him the way they do.
Me: At least he’s wearing appropriate safety equipment for the lab.
Shev’s player: Yeah, but he doesn’t have appropriate safety PROCEDURES for the lab - that’s half the problem.  
 
Miya’s player: How adorable.
Me: Look behind him.
Miya’s player: …..ah. 
 
Arram's player: Honestly Shev is more alarming - THOSE EYES
 
Skave’s player later creates a much cuter asset to use as the ratman.
 
Skave’s player: the temptation to add tiny little horns is really powerful, but I shall resist
 
GM: Hang on, my notes have vanished into the ether.
Me: That’s why we switched to safer anesthetics. And besides, anything that can vanish into the ether is way too high a combat level for this party.. 
 
The aforementioned rodent is down at Selversgard’s docks buying some fish, when there is some commotion in the water. A small boat is being rowed by a young man, with a blood-covered young dwarf as a passenger.
 
Skave: Ah, codfish, tastes like elf. Don’t ask me how I know that. What’s going on over there?
Shev OoC: Alas poor dwarf, we barely knew you.
Gonno OoC: I wonder if Skave has heard you can use gunpowder as a cauterizing agent yet.
Shev OoC: … he just admitted to cannibalism in public. That which speaks is not food!
Gonno OoC: For one thing you can get psittacosis from parrots.
 
The adolescents were fishing when they were attacked by a giant pike.
 
Gonno OoC: From context I’m guessing the fish and not an animated weapon. 
 
Unfortunately, there was a third member of the party - Mari, who got to shore OK, but south of the old monastery that everybody avoids. The whole area has a bad reputation, not least because the god in question, Aroden, died under mysterious circumstances a little over 100 years ago. 
 
GM: There’s rumors something nasty happened at the monastery at the same time. 
Gonno OoC: Well, all the monks were out of a job for a start.
 
Shev is quite impressed that the kids rowed 15 miles upstream to get help.
 
Shev: Damn, kid, you have some guns on you. 
 
On the other hand, the pike was merely 6 feet long, so merely a large pike rather than a Giant Pike. 
 
Arram: That said they ARE supremely aggressive and will have a go at anything, The kids just panicked. 
 
Shev commandeers the nearest boat, and intends to use his giant rat to tow it as necessary. Arram is currently childfree as all his students are at work in the fields, and Gonno comes along despite being very uncomfortable in water more than neck deep. He’s certainly happy to be back on dry land, although the banks are so thickly overgrown and tangled that the missing girl would have to head away from the river to make any progress. Also, that pike is still hanging around.
 
Gonno OoC: At least it’s not a shark with freakin’ lasers. 
 
It certainly looks as though Mari’s taking a large detour around the ruins. And it’s such a lovely day that the miasma of evil coming from the ruins barely registers. Happy laughter coming from a stand of fruit trees on a nearby hilltop is much more distracting. The girl is sitting under a huge oak, next to a fire, while her clothes dry. Whoever rendered her assistance has their back to us, and a distinctly nonhuman head. There’s also a human? Woman with intensely red hair peeking out as us from behind the oak.
 
Arram: Mari? Had a fun adventure this afternoon?
Mari: Mr Arram! You came to find me!
Arram: I hear you had a run-in with a rather large fish.
Galiante the Tiefling: She certainly did.
Shev: It’s getting late - may we share your fire for the night?
Galiante: Best ask the actual owner. Kayla! Ah just a minute, she’s shy.
Shev: Fear not fellow child of Erastil, we mean no harm.
Kayla: Well, not exactly Erastil, but.. *literally steps out of solid wood*
 
The dryad lets us stay in her grove as long as we are no threat to it, her, or her guests.
 
Shev: *leans in close to Skave* Brother….
Arram: Literally do not move for the next 8 hours.
Skave: Yes yes, I’m not going to set fire to the tree.
Shev: You’re not going within 20ft of the tree. It’s not that I think you’ll set it on fire, I’m afraid you’ll want to investigate its alchemical properties. 
 
Shev: How come you to the woods?
Galiante: Well, that’s a long story..
Shev: We have a fire, and I brought stew.
Galiante: *brightens up* I do like stew.
 
Galiante is from Cheliax, and tells us her life story suitably edited for her presumably innocent new friend Mari.
 
Shev OoC: She’s a 14 year old country girl - she knows. 
 
Despite her Tiefling heritage, Galiante was the mistress of a Chelaxian higher-up who tried to move higher in the pecking order and ended up just as high as the top of a pike - weapon, this time, not the fish. 
 
Skave OoC: I didn’t know Barzillai Thrune had a girlfriend? *takes notes*
 
She got out of town fast, but not before kicking in the head of an overly proactive government employee, so she now has a company of hellknights hunting her down. Despite that, she would probably be welcome enough in Selversgard. 
 
Galiante: Really? I’m a tiefling and a prostitute. 
Arram: Honestly I don’t think the first thing will matter.
Shev: They put up with us.
Arram: And that’s the second oldest profession, probably just after murder-hobo.
Galiante: And that’d be you guys?
Shev et al: Oh no, I’m a scout/carpenter/schoolteacher/parcel delivery man.
Galiante: Huh, and he was me thinking you were adventurers.
Shev: No, we have real jobs, and we are good at them. With a few notable exceptions.
 
Well, if we’re competent maybe we can help the dryad with a problem - an unpleasantly pushy Twigjack that won’t leave her alone. He’s even made a copy of her grove, that’s wrong in every possible way. 
 
Gonno OoC: At least the tree in the middle isn’t a Gympie-Gympie.
 
There’s no sign of the malign occupant. 
 
Gonno OoC: I bet that’ll change the moment I get my axe out. 
Arram OoC: ‘He’s a lumberjack and he’s ok’
 
In fact the furious fey doesn’t show up until Gonno actually swings at one of its trees, and the entire party is waiting with suitable weapons. Unfortunately the Twigjack can teleport and blast us with splinters. Fortunately our suitable weapons are Arram’s Fireball spell and Shev’s blunderbuss loaded with a Dragonsbreath round, and the creature is reduced to ash. 
 
Skave: Well, while you guys make sure there aren’t any more about, I’m going to sit over here. And start pulling out all these splinters. Ow. Ow. Ow. 
 
Hopefully not where all the poison ivy is growing. 
 
Mari’s parents are very pleased when we get back, although they are very not pleased that their daughter went so far downstream with her friends. Galiante can probably stay at Gonno’s place for a while - his new house has room for a second person now, at least, and he can make her a bed easily enough. 
 
Gonno OoC: At least I’m a quiet housemate.
Arram OoC: Unless you’re working.
Gonno OoC: Yeah good point - if she’s working nights….
Miya OoC: Let’s not make any assumptions about her future employment. 
 
Galiante does spend the rest of the season working in the fields, then gets a job at the Yellow House, Selversgard’s only brothel. 
 
GM: She’s doing what she knows. 
 
Arram finds an old map of the monastery, which he adds to his collection of local historical documents. Maybe he can start a small museum, one day. Skave hears from some relatives that want to move into the Warren, and Miya, sadly, hears that one of her adoptive parents has died.
 
To their mutual surprise, Gonno and Galiante actually develop an attraction to each other, and she moves back in. 
 
Gonno: *basking in the daily pleased surprise, and planning the better furniture he’ll make for her, to go with the chest of drawers he’d made as a moving out present*
Shev OoC: She was probably amazed that he offered her a bed with no ulterior motive. ‘You literally just wanted to put a roof over my head?’
Miya OoC: ‘I’m gonna keep you!’
 

Setting up Tabletop Simulator for the game 
 
Me: What the HELL is standing behind you?
Shev’s player: Wha- Oh, that’s Skave.
Me: Ah - so you're using the custom asset you made in HeroForge, and he’s using an actual gasmasked Skaven asset. 
GM: Yep. Which explains why the villagers react to him the way they do.
Me: At least he’s wearing appropriate safety equipment for the lab.
Shev’s player: Yeah, but he doesn’t have appropriate safety PROCEDURES for the lab - that’s half the problem.  
 
Miya’s player: How adorable.
Me: Look behind him.
Miya’s player: …..ah. 
 
Arram's player: Honestly Shev is more alarming - THOSE EYES
 
Skave’s player later creates a much cuter asset to use as the ratman.
 
Skave’s player: the temptation to add tiny little horns is really powerful, but I shall resist
 
GM: Hang on, my notes have vanished into the ether.
Me: That’s why we switched to safer anesthetics. And besides, anything that can vanish into the ether is way too high a combat level for this party.. 
 
The aforementioned rodent is down at Selversgard’s docks buying some fish, when there is some commotion in the water. A small boat is being rowed by a young man, with a blood-covered young dwarf as a passenger.
 
Skave: Ah, codfish, tastes like elf. Don’t ask me how I know that. What’s going on over there?
Shev OoC: Alas poor dwarf, we barely knew you.
Gonno OoC: I wonder if Skave has heard you can use gunpowder as a cauterizing agent yet.
Shev OoC: … he just admitted to cannibalism in public. That which speaks is not food!
Gonno OoC: For one thing you can get psittacosis from parrots.
 
The adolescents were fishing when they were attacked by a giant pike.
 
Gonno OoC: From context I’m guessing the fish and not an animated weapon. 
 
Unfortunately, there was a third member of the party - Mari, who got to shore OK, but south of the old monastery that everybody avoids. The whole area has a bad reputation, not least because the god in question, Aroden, died under mysterious circumstances a little over 100 years ago. 
 
GM: There’s rumors something nasty happened at the monastery at the same time. 
Gonno OoC: Well, all the monks were out of a job for a start.
 
Shev is quite impressed that the kids rowed 15 miles upstream to get help.
 
Shev: Damn, kid, you have some guns on you. 
 
On the other hand, the pike was merely 6 feet long, so merely a large pike rather than a Giant Pike. 
 
Arram: That said they ARE supremely aggressive and will have a go at anything, The kids just panicked. 
 
Shev commandeers the nearest boat, and intends to use his giant rat to tow it as necessary. Arram is currently childfree as all his students are at work in the fields, and Gonno comes along despite being very uncomfortable in water more than neck deep. He’s certainly happy to be back on dry land, although the banks are so thickly overgrown and tangled that the missing girl would have to head away from the river to make any progress. Also, that pike is still hanging around.
 
Gonno OoC: At least it’s not a shark with freakin’ lasers. 
 
It certainly looks as though Mari’s taking a large detour around the ruins. And it’s such a lovely day that the miasma of evil coming from the ruins barely registers. Happy laughter coming from a stand of fruit trees on a nearby hilltop is much more distracting. The girl is sitting under a huge oak, next to a fire, while her clothes dry. Whoever rendered her assistance has their back to us, and a distinctly nonhuman head. There’s also a human? Woman with intensely red hair peeking out as us from behind the oak.
 
Arram: Mari? Had a fun adventure this afternoon?
Mari: Mr Arram! You came to find me!
Arram: I hear you had a run-in with a rather large fish.
Galiante the Tiefling: She certainly did.
Shev: It’s getting late - may we share your fire for the night?
Galiante: Best ask the actual owner. Kayla! Ah just a minute, she’s shy.
Shev: Fear not fellow child of Erastil, we mean no harm.
Kayla: Well, not exactly Erastil, but.. *literally steps out of solid wood*
 
The dryad lets us stay in her grove as long as we are no threat to it, her, or her guests.
 
Shev: *leans in close to Skave* Brother….
Arram: Literally do not move for the next 8 hours.
Skave: Yes yes, I’m not going to set fire to the tree.
Shev: You’re not going within 20ft of the tree. It’s not that I think you’ll set it on fire, I’m afraid you’ll want to investigate its alchemical properties. 
 
Shev: How come you to the woods?
Galiante: Well, that’s a long story..
Shev: We have a fire, and I brought stew.
Galiante: *brightens up* I do like stew.
 
Galiante is from Cheliax, and tells us her life story suitably edited for her presumably innocent new friend Mari.
 
Shev OoC: She’s a 14 year old country girl - she knows. 
 
Despite her Tiefling heritage, Galiante was the mistress of a Chelaxian higher-up who tried to move higher in the pecking order and ended up just as high as the top of a pike - weapon, this time, not the fish. 
 
Skave OoC: I didn’t know Barzillai Thrune had a girlfriend? *takes notes*
 
She got out of town fast, but not before kicking in the head of an overly proactive government employee, so she now has a company of hellknights hunting her down. Despite that, she would probably be welcome enough in Selversgard. 
 
Galiante: Really? I’m a tiefling and a prostitute. 
Arram: Honestly I don’t think the first thing will matter.
Shev: They put up with us.
Arram: And that’s the second oldest profession, probably just after murder-hobo.
Galiante: And that’d be you guys?
Shev et al: Oh no, I’m a scout/carpenter/schoolteacher/parcel delivery man.
Galiante: Huh, and he was me thinking you were adventurers.
Shev: No, we have real jobs, and we are good at them. With a few notable exceptions.
 
Well, if we’re competent maybe we can help the dryad with a problem - an unpleasantly pushy Twigjack that won’t leave her alone. He’s even made a copy of her grove, that’s wrong in every possible way. 
 
Gonno OoC: At least the tree in the middle isn’t a Gympie-Gympie.
 
There’s no sign of the malign occupant. 
 
Gonno OoC: I bet that’ll change the moment I get my axe out. 
Arram OoC: ‘He’s a lumberjack and he’s ok’
 
In fact the furious fey doesn’t show up until Gonno actually swings at one of its trees, and the entire party is waiting with suitable weapons. Unfortunately the Twigjack can teleport and blast us with splinters. Fortunately our suitable weapons are Arram’s Fireball spell and Shev’s blunderbuss loaded with a Dragonsbreath round, and the creature is reduced to ash. 
 
Skave: Well, while you guys make sure there aren’t any more about, I’m going to sit over here. And start pulling out all these splinters. Ow. Ow. Ow. 
 
Hopefully not where all the poison ivy is growing. 
 
Mari’s parents are very pleased when we get back, although they are very not pleased that their daughter went so far downstream with her friends. Galiante can probably stay at Gonno’s place for a while - his new house has room for a second person now, at least, and he can make her a bed easily enough. 
 
Gonno OoC: At least I’m a quiet housemate.
Arram OoC: Unless you’re working.
Gonno OoC: Yeah good point - if she’s working nights….
Miya OoC: Let’s not make any assumptions about her future employment. 
 
Galiante does spend the rest of the season working in the fields, then gets a job at the Yellow House, Selversgard’s only brothel. 
 
GM: She’s doing what she knows. 
 
Arram finds an old map of the monastery, which he adds to his collection of local historical documents. Maybe he can start a small museum, one day. Skave hears from some relatives that want to move into the Warren, and Miya, sadly, hears that one of her adoptive parents has died.
 
To their mutual surprise, Gonno and Galiante actually develop an attraction to each other, and she moves back in. 
 
Gonno: *basking in the daily pleased surprise, and planning the better furniture he’ll make for her, to go with the chest of drawers he’d made as a moving out present*
Shev OoC: She was probably amazed that he offered her a bed with no ulterior motive. ‘You literally just wanted to put a roof over my head?’
Miya OoC: ‘I’m gonna keep you!’
 

The stirge-infested darkness beyond the door reveals one main corridor, and a number of collapsed side corridors. Hopefully we won’t have to do any major excavations, because if the ceilings are that unstable it would probably be a very bad idea. Not that the floors are much more stable, since we nearly miss the first pit trap. It’s just as well that Skave has Disable Traps, because none of the rest of us do. 
 
Shev: See how useful you can be when you’re not trying to blow something up? (says the guy carrying blackpowder).
Gonno😘reluctant to point out that Skave just helped us by breaking something*
 
The corridor opens into a large natural chamber, with a somewhat noxious lake, a natural skylight, and a building built into the wall opposite. Skave checks the lake’s depth and acidity, and doesn’t get eaten by a crocodile. 
 
Miya: And there was me expecting a Dead Gazelle moment. 
 
Shev wants to ride across on his rat, but Vokk is reluctant to even enter the water - HIGHLY suspicious. The rapidly approaching ripple in the water even more so. It would appear that giant leeches as well as stirges breed down here. Maybe we're about to get a Dead Gazelle moment anyway.
 
Or possibly not - we dispatch the leech without difficulty. On the other hand, we do find a black-laquered grappling hook on the island from when the cave roof collapsed. If whoever fell off the presumably attached rope fell from a great height, there would surely be other remains, and if the grappling hook lost its grip when they’d just started climbing, why leave the hook?
 
The building built into the wall has an intact door, despite its apparent age and the humidity down here. The bronze is heavily verdigrised, however. It’s also locked. Happily, the key we were given back in Selversgard fits it, so we don’t break down the door to be immediately killed by all the traps. What they didn’t tell us is that there’d be TWO chests. The first that Arram opens contains numerous documents and letters that we politely don’t read, and the second chest impolitely tries to eat us. 
 
Arram: That does happen sometimes.
 
Unfortunately even small Mimics are a serious threat to amateur dungeon-crawlers like ourselves, even without Skave’s contributions to the fight.
 
Arram: If you hit me with one of your grenades again, rat, I’m going to set you on fire. 
Skave: I hit the Mimic too this time!
 
We’re not professionally-inclined to search the entire building, but Gonno does find a large pile of undigested gold coins under the mimic, and also spots furtive movement elsewhere in the cave that we studiously avoid. There’s no point actually looking for more trouble.

Shev: What do you think we are, adventurers?
 
At some point in the next 11 months, Arram finds a treasure map in one of his predecessor’s books.
 
Shev OoC: Save to give to an passing adventurer as a quest reward.
 
Gelvert, despite his melancholy, does survive the winter and in fact appears to be in better health than in recent days, though he continues to let his eldest son, Gelbert, proxy for him on the Council and run the mill. This is especially important as the mayorship passes to him this year.
 
The summer is a cool and wet one, resulting in a surfeit of root vegetables and fat pigs and cows, but a relatively low harvest of grain. There’s also a minor conflict between some of the woodcutters and a faction of the Druids. The Druids claim the cutters felled several trees that were marked for retention, but the cutters deny they were marked. Both sides agree to closer communication in future. This seems to be a perennial argument. Maybe the druids would be more congenial if the villagers pay them to magically enhance the farmers’ fields. 
Several Ysoki arrive to join the warren. One is a low-level witch. Hopefully that means there will be some adorable baby ratties along soon - the ratfok are too short-lived to put off starting a family, and more important Gonno has a shelf-full of alphabet blocks and wooden ducks to gift the children. 
 
Gonno OoC: Although I’ll probably hold off giving them a working trebuchet if they’re related to Skave.
 
Skave manages to blow up his lab.
 
Shev: Brother. Brother.
Miya: He can’t hear you, because of the explosion.
Skave: NOT MY FAULT THIS TIME.
Shev: SKAVE. THIS IS WHY I DO ALL MY EXPERIMENTS WITH BLACK POWDER OUT IN THE WOODS.
 
Skave is actually ecstatic about the explosion - he can now infuse a small amount of his own magical power into his creations.
 
Shev: An expensive discovery, Brother. I assume it gave you key insights into how *not* to create these infusions?
 
Gonno makes an enemy of a woodcarver that accuses the Oread of stealing his designs. Clearly the man is just looking for a fight, and Gonno has no intention of responding in kind, but it bodes ill for the future. 
 
Gonno OoC: I don't want him coming in when I'm out and throwing my tools in the river or my ham in the latrine. That would be irritating. And if he knows I've been squirreling a small fortune away under the floor... (it's not like there's room to hide it inside the anvil with metal-shaping anymore).
 
Miya, on the other hand, discovers that one of the other town founders also had a subterranean secret that bears investigation - an interest in the now flooded mine near Selversgard, and a still-standing offer of ownership of the mine to anyone that can recover the deeds to it. It probably bears more investigation as to why nobody has followed this up before now, but Miya is new in town, and like many small communities she’s going to be considered an outsider for a few more decades yet. 
 
 

Lorgar Aurelian, Primarch of the Word Bearers Space Marines, addresses the troops before battle -
 
Lorgar: Altogether now, our warcry!
Word Bearers: DADDY DOESN'T LOVE US!
Lorgar: .... the other warcry
Word Bearers: FOR CHAOS AND THE WARMASTER!
Lorgar: Much better.

Gonno OoC: It’s at this point that most villagers would put up an ad on Craigslist looking for murder-hoboes. 
 
Despite the increasingly difficult weather and terrain, we eventually find scattered yellow wax of the kind that poisoned the rats. There don’t appear to be any giant poisoned bee hives hanging from the trees overhead, but that doesn't preclude giant poisoned burrowing bees.
 
Arram: And that would just be about our luck, wouldn’t it.
 
And if there was a trail, it’s too old to follow, even for a rat as antisocial as Shev. Fortunately the plants have been there longer, and Miya can talk to plants. The shrubbery tells us that the were fuzzy things, less hairy than the ratfolk, smaller than any of the villagers, that came through about 10 brightnesses ago. Also, their noisy bits were bigger than ours. Honestly, as far as descriptive qualia go, that’s pretty good work for a vegetable. 
 
We press on looking for more clues - looking so intently that we don’t notice that the rushing torrent coming down from the hills has undercut the bank, and Arram ends up hanging from a tree branch. Fortunately the rest of us haul him back to safety without going over ourselves. And a bit further on from there, we hear words in an unpleasant barking language just over the next ridge. Unfortunately, none of us speak goblin. Fortunately Shev and his giant riding rat are both pretty stealthy, and easily identifies them as goblins, a goblin dog, and a hobgoblin. The hobgoblin is currently beating one of the mouthier gobbos about the head with a stick. Then hands out chunks of that yellow wax to each.
 
Shev and his rat might well be stealthy, and it’s true that the goblinoids don’t notice them at once or as he and his mount are sneaking away again. On the other hand the rest of the party are not so lightfooted as we sneak into position to ambush the enemy. Shev is inclined to blame Gonno, who is certainly the physically densest of the party, but Gonno is too generous to point out that it was actually the riding rat sneezing. The goblinoids, however, are generous enough to share most of their arrows with Gonno. Arram is comprehensively ventilated as well. In fact, it’s a small miracle we survive at all - it would seem murder-hoboes exist for a reason. 
 
The conscious members of the party decide to lug the unconscious Gonno back to the hut, for safety and healing. The current clearing might be suitable for a campsite, but for two factors - the enemy know about it.
 
Shev: And it’s a bit corpse-y.
 
The goblinoids are not equipped well, which isn’t unusual, but the hobgoblins are unusually clean and are all branded with a V, which is. And none of them are carrying rations, which implies they have a camp somewhere nearby. In hindsight, we should have let Shev’s rat chew on all the goblinoids, so their compatriots will blame wild animals when they come looking.  
The next day, with considerable more caution, we locate the goblin camp, at a long-ruined tower deep in the forest. One unusual feature is a set of large wooden cages, one containing a large and very unhappy boar. There’s no sign of any goblins, but there is a large hole leading into the earth. No spoil heap, which implies a collapse rather than an excavation. Or maybe there really are giant poisoned burrowing bees. Unusually, the hobgoblin has a statue of Shelyn set up in his tent - with a note underneath it that none of us can read. Written in a very neat neat hand. That might be related to the cloven-hooved prints leading in and out of the hole. 
 
Distracted into a conversation about the ‘Where’s Wally’ mythos.
 
Shev’s player: In the United States and Canada he’s known as “Waldo”, in Denmark he’s “Holger”, in France he’s “Charlie” and in German he’s “Walter”.
Gonno’s player: And Interpol has taken a keen interest. 
 
There’s a deeper chasm at the bottom of the hole, with a swinging bridge, a sleeping goblin in a running cage, and a raging cascade. Unfortunately, bridge and goblin are both on the far side of the chasm, and our attempts to snipe them from our side are a spectacular failure. We end up relying on Shev and his giant riding rat again.
 
Shev: They might not as fast as a horse but f*** they’re versatile. No! No! Get that of your mouth!
Arram: You don’t know where it’s been.
 
As suspected, the ruins had a dungeon underneath, and there’s a hooded figure doing something alchemical on a table near two caged hobgoblin females. Could be dangerous, especially if they're anything like our ratfolk alchemist.
 
Shev: Because in our experience, alchemists are very good at hitting us. 
 
Happily, not everybody thinks to put tripwires on the walls. Even in the Underdark, where practically everybody can Spiderclimb or the equivalent. We even manage to get into position to ambush the alchemist - almost. She seems quite pleased to see us, which is not good. She’s a Forlarren - corrupted fey. 
 
Forlarren: Well gentlemen, ladies? What can I do for you?
Miya: Ah… we wanted to know why goblins are poisoning the animals of the forest and causing sundry problems?
Forlarren: Oh that’s easy - I told them to. 
Miya: … OK… any particular reason?
Forlarren: I wanted to drive the rats towards Selversgard and make you all insane and dead.
Miya: …. Why?
Forlarren: Because I hate you. Obviously I won’t need these anymore *reaches for a lever next to the hobgoblin cage, and casts Heat Metal on us*
 
Fortunately not all of us are wearing armour, and she doesn’t cast it very well, so her attempted Cook and Book doesn’t go as well as she’d like and we have her surrounded before she can escape. And then she’s on fire, and very soon after that, dead. It’s quite fortunate that we stopped her pulling the lever, since it wasn’t a cage release but a mechanism to kill her extraneous test subjects. We free them, and give them food and water. 
 
Shev: I can’t just abandon them because they’re not my species.
Miya: And they’re female - you can’t just do that.
Shev: I’m usually more egalitarian than that, but still. 
 
The hobgoblins seem very grateful, despite the language barrier. Extremely grateful, at least insofar as Miya is concerned. 
 
Arram: I would help, but I’m paralysed with laughter.
Miya: Ah. No? Busy. Do you understand? Busy.
Shev: Arram, can you please do something about this? We have things to do today. 
 
It’s not ideal, but we can’t really let the two hobgoblins fend for themselves, naked and alone. We might have to take them back to Selversgard, despite the fact that goblinoids are universally despised (and for good reason). The Forlarren also had a human skull with a few citrines shoved into the nasal cavity. 
 
Gorro: *thinking* Well I don’t think it would match the decor at my place, but perhaps one of the others would like it.
Arram OoC: I hope not, because then I’ll have to write ‘nose gems’ on the treasure sheet. 
Skave: Hey, skull for the alchemy shop!
 
There’s also a preserved nymph’s head, a skinned hobgoblin and the remains of a halfling bard with a masterworked lute in the other room - nobody we recognise as a visitor to Selversgard, but it’s possible someone will come looking for him. The Maker’s Mark from Magnimar will help narrow down his identity at least. Gonno prepares the bodies for rough burial - none of us are clerics. 
 
Arram: I’m pretty sure by the time the rest of us finish arguing about it Gonno’s already dug the graves. 
Gonno: I dig.
 
The hobgoblins head off by themselves, to Shev’s relief.
 
Miya: A quick smack on the bum and off they go.
Shev: NO.
 
We also get XP for releasing the boar.
 
Miya OoC: Now we just have to rescue 10 ½ more boars and we’ll go up a level.
Shev OoC: How do we rescue half a boar?
Miya OoC: Piglet.
Arram OoC: Yeah, Young template would do it.
Piglet: Oh, bother.
Shev OoC: Did that pig just talk?
 
At least we've dealt with the crazed rat problem, and can return to Selversgard as Perfectly Adequate Substitute Adventurers. We’ll send a few letters to Magnimar with the next load of timber, and see if we can find an ID for the dead bard. And then Gonno can start carving a set of alphabet blocks for the ratfolk’s offspring - they’re not a species that put off parenting until middle age. 
 
Next Adventure : a year and a month from now!

Horror on the Orient Express - Dreamlands - Dylath-Leen to Aphorat
 
February 1923
 
In Which The Investigators Take A Break From Vivisection And Graduate To Genocide And Child Murder
 
The three investigators are currently holed up in a waiting room in Milan’s Stazione Centrale, keenly aware that the authorities in at least three cities can connect them to a series of grisly deaths, even if they weren’t actually responsible for them. 
 
Alex: Well, that makes another city we can never come back to. I got into this because I thought it would be fun, but it’s not being much fun. And where’s the booze? I should never have let Flo drag me into this. Not that I recall much actual dragging. 
 
Florence might not be nursing any injuries, but she has another problem - if she reports the events at La Scala accurately, and Alex’s father realises that Alex was the foreigner that was ‘injured in a fracas at the Opera House’, he’s going to blow a gasket. Their mother would too, of course, but since she’s dead it would be freaking out from beyond the grave.
 
Alex OoC: Quite possible - she always said she’d be looking down on me. 
 
Huxley, on the other hand, has an entirely different problem - he’s still in denial that magic exists, so obviously that old woman that was trying to tear the larynx out of Faccia’s throat with her bare hands can’t possibly be the missing Diva. He reluctantly concludes that the Signora must be dead, and her organs stolen by the same lunatic that transplanted the automotive worker’s lungs. It might even become his default hypothesis whenever somebody goes missing - they’ve been kidnapped and vivisected.
 
Buried under a small mountain of blankets thoughtfully provided by the staff of the Orient Express, the exhausted investigators fall fitfully to sleep, and wake up in one of the luxurious pavilions of the Dreamlands Express. Huxley even has the tiny black kitten Blackjack snoozing on his chest. 
 
The Dreamlands Express’ creator and conductor Henri Peeters is immediately aware that the investigators are still stressed by events in the Waking World, and arranges some relaxing draughts and a light meal to settle their nerves. The train beasts will soon be arriving at the port of Dylath-Leen, to pick up passengers and swap cargo. Until then, Peeters listens sympathetically to Huxley’s tale of events in the Waking World, and how favorably the Dreamlands compare. 
 
Huxley: The whole place was wrong - everybody was so miserable and on edge. Nothing like the Milan in the travelogs.
 
Florence spends most of the time playing with the kitten.
 
The new passengers are one Mironim-Mer, a wine trader with solid yellow eyes, delegations from the cities of Sarnath and Ib on their way to appeal to the wisdom of King Kuranes, and at the last minute the dancer Zsuzsa, just ahead of her pursuit by the Prince of Dylath-Leen’s secret police. She’s certainly quite taken by Huxley, although she just as clearly doesn’t like talking about the Waking World. 
 
Dylath-Leen might not be the most salubrious locale in the realms of Dream, but given how well-appointed the train-slash-caravan-slash-gelatinous-tentacle-monsters-carrying-palatial-pavilions is, is not like you actually have to get off the Dreamlands Express to have a good time.
 
Florence: Five stars, would travel again.
 
She probably won’t get the choice - apparently you can only ride the train all the way to the end of the line once. She should probably just make the best of the trip. Alex certainly is - for one thing they actually have a male body here. Unfortunately their first opportunity to shave goes disastrously, and they cut themselves badly.
 
Huxley: Maybe this will give you a rugged bad boy look
Alex: Oh, go impress your flibbertigibbet. I’m just going to let it grow next time, I swear.
 
Huxley certainly hopes to impress Zsuzsa, and goes to breakfast dressed as dapperly as possible. Maybe that’s why the Sarnathian delegation decide he’s the only one of the investigators worth talking to, and rudely invite themselves to the shared meal despite the fact they were noisily partying all night. After they realise that the King George and the British Empire that Huxley was a soldier for are in the Waking World, they ask more questions. They seem a bit surprised that the Waking World is so miserable that the Dreamlands are a restful delight by comparison, and Huxley has to explain about the Great War. That puzzles them even more.
 
Sarnathian delegate: But you were on the winning side! Your enemies defeated, and therefore subhuman and beneath contempt! Take pride in your victory!
Huxley: …
 
By lunchtime, the train has reached Zar, the Abode of Unformed Dreams, and not a place restful for dreamers. Which may explain the screaming, eyeless lunatic that runs up to the train, and that has to be subdued by Henri, Huxley, and the tentacle beasts. The Sarnathians find the struggle quite entertaining. Henri is reluctant to have the madman on board, but Huxley persuades him to have him restrained in the baggage car, until then can get him into the care of somebody better suited.
 
The Sarnathian delegates hope Huxley wasn’t insulted by their laughter at his scuffle with the madman, and invite him along for some harmless entertainment. The harmless entertainment is ambushing one of the flabby, frog-like Beings of Ib, and holding them against the wall until they stick. Huxley wants no part of it, and helps the silent and passive Being down afterwards. 
 
Huxley: You know, I think I know why you're sending a delegation to this King Kuranes - These Sarnathians are cads.
 
Karakov, the arms dealer from the Waking World, can confirm that there’s very bad blood between Sarnath and Ib, although everybody was extremely surprised when the Beings showed up again, since the extermination of their kind happened a thousand years ago. Karakov acknowledges that a lot of the history might be propaganda by the winners, but does not appreciate the comparison to the Armenian Genocide AT ALL. But then, he was an arms dealer to the Turks, and many others. Huxley does note that Karakov seems guilty under the ire, however. 
 
After lunch Florence heads off to spend time with all the cats from Ulthar, Huxley goes to spend the afternoon with Zsuzsa in her compartment, and Alex has to go scrub their hands after they find another Being of Ib stuck to the ceiling outside their compartment. 
 
Alex: You might have warned me to grab a towel before I tried to help them down. 
Huxley: I don’t understand why the Beings don’t fight back. 
GM: If they call you in as a witness in the court of King Kuranes, you can accurately report it was the Sarnathians that started everything. 
 
While Alex is cleaning up, they hear a startled Meow and a thud from the next compartment, but it’s empty when they go to check. They do tell Huxley what they heard, before they head off to the afternoon’s entertainment - Zsuzsa in Huxley’s case, and the men’s saloon for Alex. 
 
Huxley: You thought you heard a puddy tat. 
 
Zsuzsa surprises Huxley with the heat of her ardour, and he enjoys an athletic and surprisingly flexible few hours. But then even the Waking World Express has a reputation for romance.
Huxley: What happens in the Dreamlands stays in the Dreamlands.
 
Alex’s afternoon is pretty enjoyable too - there are thagweed hookahs provided for the gentlemen, a large rack of various alcohols, and an entire sideboard of sandwich ingredients for when they get the munchies. The diplomatic courier and wannabe poet Mackenzie is already there preparing a snack. 
 
GM: This is certainly becoming a theme with you - try a new recreational drug of the Dreamlands, pass out.
Alex OoC: Well I am here to enjoy myself.
GM: Although in this case it’s not so much pass out as grin goofily and sit staring at your hands. “My fingers… they can touch everything except themselves”
 
It’s Huxley that returns to the compartment first, needing a fresh change of clothes. So it’s him that finds the corpse of Blackjack the kitten, hidden in his trunk. He’s been repeatedly stabbed.
 
Huxley: … oh dear. 
Florence’s player: DRHOZ! He’s a BABY!
GM: In retrospect I should have already had chocolate here, by way of apology, since I knew this chapter predicated kitten murder. Although it’s hardly the first Cthulhu module to have the brutal death of children in it. 
Alex’s player: It’s not not supposed to be cute furry animals, just humans.
 
Huxley dithers for a bit, then goes to find the conductor. Henri is understandably distressed, even before Huxley asks how the death will affect the agreement the Express has with the sacrosanct Cats of Ulthar. And what will they tell Blackjack’s mother, Sophie. Huxley basically blurts out the situation to Flo, in front of the entire carriage-full of cats. 
 
Henri Peeters: That was not tactfully done, Monsieur.
 
At least the three investigators have pretty solid alibis for most of the afternoon - Florence was buried in pussies, Huxley enjoying one singular, and Alex so completely blazed on thagweed that they probably couldn’t walk in a straight line.
 
GM: Even if certain historical assassins are famous for both their deadliness and their drug use. 
 
Henri asks the three investigators to wait in the banquet car, while he tracks down the distraught mother cat and tries to deal with the situation. Huxley collects Alex.
 
Alex: *waggling their fingers at Huxley* Have you got some of these as well? 
Huxley: Yes, at least twelve.
Alex: Do you know why they can’t touch each other? You’re a medical man
Huxley: … I should probably sober them up.
Alex: I'm a him! I can show you.
 
Florence consoles herself with strong drink, Alex slowly becomes aware that something serious is happening, and Huxley tries to figure out what caused the wounds - they’re too big for Being of Ib claws, and more like a letter-opener than a proper knife. Eventually Henri ushers the rest of the passengers, delegates and their servants, and a large number of very angry cats, into the banquet pavilion.
 
Henri Peeters: Ladies and gentlemen… I have grim news for you. There has been a murder on the Dreamlands Express. 

Pathfinder : In Hell’s Bright Shadow : All Dead, All Dead
 
Civilla’s player has been statting out members of her future coven - it includes an NPC that can use fire as healing magic. That includes fire in the form of Incendiary Runes.
 
Civilla's player: "And here's some that I prepared earlier."
Ayva's player: It doesn't even damage the item so pages of "Stop getting injured you dumbass" would stack
 
GM: I see no issues with her, or her inclusion in the party. An aquatic changeling with a phoenix bloodline is a bit "Who the hell were her parents", but it's mechanically sound.
 
The lack of a cleric in the party is a serious problem for us - we still have nothing that can reliably hurt those Wretchghosts (let alone all the other undead down here) and no way to drive them off for good. And our investigations may have given them access to the surface, so we can’t just go find a priest.
 
Terzo OoC: Well we CAN just wander off and deal with it later, we just have to find a way to blame it on Thrune.
 
Civilla: One of us opens the door and the other one has a Readied Action to close it again depending on how bad it looks on the other side.
Terzo: Another dozen Wretchghosts.
Civilla: *sob*
Ayva: In that case we come back with a priest and a holy flamethrower.
 
It’s actually a room with dead bodies and some brightly coloured paving stones.
 
Rajira: *sarcastically* Oh GREAT, it’s a colour trap, those are always fun.
 
Light weights don’t trigger anything, and Detect Magic doesn't reveal anything on the floor, walls, or ceiling. Civilla Summons a lemur to stand in for a Minefield Sheep.
 
Terzo OoC: Prosimians being expendable, of course.
Avya’s player: A man-sized lemur would be terrifying.
Terzo’s player: They used to be.
Rajira's player: Until quite recently - well into historical times.
 
Something alarming and very far from humanoid or prosimian emerges from the floor and reduces the lemur to tasty nuggets. Rajira suspects she’s figured out the key to crossing the room safely.
 
Civilla: Although that assumes the same key works for whoever goes in next.
Terzo: After you.
 
Terzo: How much do you bet we have to use the other key coming back?
Civilla: No bet.
 
Civilla: Over here, Terzo, I need something to hide behind.
 
GM: Kudos for checking every door for traps, like a good adventurer.
 
The next room has some interesting portraiture, although some Prestidigitation (Cleaning) and Mending will be necessary before we can loot them.
 
Ayva: Civilla’s Cleaning Service.
 
She also finds a Dagger of Venom.
 
Civilla: Rajiiiiraaaa… how would you like a self-envenoming dagger?
Rajira: I’d prefer a self-envenoming kukri but I’ll take it.
Ayva: I can always duplicate the enchantment if we have the original.
 
We also find ledgers, records, blackmail info, lists of enemies, and maps of secret routes the Grey Spiders used to traverse the undercity. Handy. And a poem by a halfling poet recently banned by Thrune. It seems likely it’s a clue to a suspiciously valuable-looking statue and capstone in the next room. Which has multiple bodies piled up around it, which Ayva’s Deathsight immediately pegs as undead. Fireballs would appear to be in order.
 
GM: Well, there WERE six ghasts in that room.
 
Unfortunately it also triggers the big trap, and releases the creature under the capstone. Biologically, it’s pretty interesting, but not if you’re remotely phobic about certain vermin. Or at all vulnerable to some remarkably nasty venoms. Rajira’s Dexterity ends up reduced to merely human levels.
 
Rajira: I’m… NORMAL
 
There is indeed a lower tunnel revealed on those maps we found - unfortunately it’s completely flooded. Consulting our allies, Lictor Octavio can provide us with a Wand of Water-breathing.
 
Civilla: Well, if it’s only a loan we don’t have to pay for it.
GM: The shrine wants a donation of 250GP per charge.
Ayva: ‘Donation’.
 
Happily Ayva can use her abilities to cast it on us herself, without actually knowing the spell first - or, for that matter, combine her abilities to turn it into a magical tattoo.
 
Civilla's player: Yes, I know a lot about the Bishōjo Senshi Sailor Moon lore.
Avya’s player: Yes, that’s why we have the start of a Sailor team.
Terzo's player: Does that make me Tuxedo Mask?
GM: “My Job Here Is Done” “But You Didn’t Do Anything”
 
Terzo's player: Of course I’m the only one with a transformation sequence.
Ayva's player: There’s half-a-dozen Archetypes that can give you a transformation sequence. Isn’t Magical Girl an official Pathfinder character type?
Civilla's player: Yes they’re a kind of Vigilante. That’s why I suggested we all play Magical Girls. Instead we’re playing three young women and Terzo, so we're paying magical girls anyway. Argh.
 
Rajira thinks we need to meet her cousin Mahat, a Vishkanya Slayer. He’s a bit of a shock.
 
Civilla: Wow, really, you didn’t know? Rajira isn’t human. Didn’t either of you know?
Terzo: I may have noticed her unusual eye colour, but I was too polite to comment.
 
Civilla: I should introduce you to my friend Shimza. My good… friend… Shimza.
Rajira: Are you sleeping with her?
Ayva: Rajira, you can’t just SAY questions like that - you just burst into their bedroom in the middle of the night when you think you hear something.
 
Shimza is a Witchborn Brine May of Varisian descent and Blood Arcanist with the Phoenix Bloodline. Ayva has a friend that might be useful, too - Portia Underbough is an Inquisitor-Infiltrator of Irori.
 
Civilla's player: Wait, Portia is a Changeling too? FFS, that makes three in the party.
 
It’s certainly an interesting mix of religious beliefs in the party - it’s going to be a full-time job for Terzo to keep the friction at a minimum.
 
Ayva: Revenge isn’t the only domain of Calistria
Rajira: So I’ve been told but we’re first cousins so we’re avoiding that.
Civilla OoC: Yes, Rajira and Mahat have not been written by GRR Martin.
 
Civilla's player: There you go, Terzo, you’re not as outnumbered as you were.
Terzo's player: Yes, but if I’m Tuxedo Mask what does that make Mahat?
Ayva's player: …. I’ll get back to you.
Civilla's player: One of the Sailor Stars.
 
GM: How many of you can breathe underwater?
Terzo OoC: I did get some compliments on my ability to hold my breath when I was a much younger man.
GM: Oh dear.
 
Perhaps the flooded tunnels connect to the ones that Civilla discovered under the Victocora estate that lead to the Hall of Records. Not that she ever told us about that, and probably won’t until her family has finalized the purchase of the ruins.
 
Ayva: Here you go, Terzo, this enchanted mithril shortsword is for you.
Terzo: Ta muchly.
GM: And no It doesn’t glow in the presence of orcs.
Terzo: But does it glow in the presence of accountants?
Civilla: You know, there’s a spell that’s used to identify members of your own faith - you could use that as the basis of, for example, lighting up the sword when followers of Asmodeus are nearby.
Rajira: But in Kintargo that would mean it goes off all the time.
 
Shimza is wearing an Ornate Corset of Black Silk, Silver Brocade with Azurite insets.
 
Terzo: Ah… I have to inquire, young lady, if that is entirely appropriate attire for our expedition?
Shimza: Oh, absolutely.
Civilla: For one thing you can quite easily represent the symbol of Nocticula, the Redeemer Queen, with the inserts.
Terzo: … Ah.
Civilla: As arcanists, we have to cheat.
 
The new assists from Mahat, Portia, and Shimza will hopefully prove invaluable against the Wretchghosts, although do lead to one pant-wetting moment, because nobody told Ayva about the way Shimza’s burning flames actually heal.
 
Portia: I hit them, I hit them!
Civilla: What?! How?!
Portia: I think it’s because I *really* need a smoke right now!

HORROR ON THE ORIENT EXPRESS - MILAN - A NIGHT AT THE OPERA

Jan 1923
 
In Which The Investigators Enjoy Opera At Its Finest And Other Mental Disturbances
 
Lt. Huxley has made his stage debut at la Scala, which is certainly something to be proud of, and a big step up from the amateur dramatics he was involved in back at school. Of course, at Greyfriars he didn’t have to contend with dangerous lunatics in the audience, or trying to smuggle an evil artifact out of the building in front of thousands of opera-goers. 
 
He also has to hold off doing anything until the next scene change - the old man with the Diva’s voice has no such reason for delay. The old woman that was with them is also on the move, but at a much slower and confused pace. The cultist and his minions hurry out of the building and around to the side door, followed by Alex, who sees the goons beat up the doorman and enter the backstage area. Both goons and doorman do seem rather off-put by the old man’s young, and female voice. Alex returns to fetch Florence. 
 
Huxley takes the first opportunity he can to grab the Torso of the Simulacrum, snap off the wooden base, and hurry for the side exits - just in time to run into the cultist and his goons. He flees upstairs, stuffing the Torso into a hiding spot and attempting to hide himself, but to no avail at least for the last bit. He is forced to topple a stack of props to slow down the pursuit. By the time Alex and Florence catch up (after recommending whiskey as a cure-all to the brutalised doorman) the Lieutenant has left quite a mess. 
 
Alex: I think we know what klutz made that.
GM: Indeed - you can see him at the end of the corridor, still dressed in sandals and loincloth, pursued by two of the goons.
Florence: Yes, that's our klutz.
 
But where can Huxley be going? 
 
Alex: Where can you go in a loincloth?
Florence: There’s clubs for that
GM: Whatever party the lead tenor has planned.
 
The two two investigators can either pursue flat out, or proceed over the pile of props at a more moderate velocity. They choose the latter.
 
Florence: A safer speed would be better in these shoes.
 
And just as well, since it gives them the opportunity to spot the Torso where Huxley hid it. They wrap it in a drape, and head upstairs to leave via the costume department’s fire escape, with the assistance of a helpful stagehand. Unfortunately they run into the old man and one of his other minions coming the other way. The older man is too preoccupied to notice what the investigators are carting, but his bodyguard is more observant. The resulting scuffle on the stairwell goes on for some time, even after the old man draws a knife and injures Alex, and even after Flo escapes with the Torso, and despite all the yelling of “Pervitito!” by Florence. 
 
Alex OoC: We always have such fun on holiday!
 
Meanwhile Huxley has escaped his pursuers and intends to change back into his day clothes, and return to where he stashed the Torso. Admittedly he’ll have to do a loop of the entire building and go up and down three different floors, but backstage la Scala is a maze. It’s also unfortunate that a furious stage director spots him and frogmarches him back to the changing rooms to get back into costume, no doubt uttering dire threats to the other spear-carriers if they let him wander off again. He does spot the older woman wandering around with an expression of deep confusion and deep concentration, but his fellow extras have orders to keep him planted where he is, even when the scuffle above the stage is clearly visible to the cast members. 
 
Florence doesn’t seem to have the Lt.’s Bump of Direction, and gets herself quite lost trying to find the costume department, and has to barricade herself into a storeroom when she’s spotted by some of the goons. By the time a badly wounded Alex finds them, and comes back with some help, the old man and the other minion have also found Florence’s hideyhole, and they’ve already shot out the lock and half bashed in the door. At least the first goon through gets himself brained with a chairleg. 
 
The goons also seem reluctant to open fire on the opera staff - the one with the gun even puts it away in a hurry - despite the shrieked orders from the old man. Not that he’s shrieking for long, because the old woman has caught up and launches herself at the man’s throat. Alex takes the opportunity to put the boot in - they’re probably going to have to get a new tuxedo now this one is so full of knife holes and bloodstains. 
 
Old woman: *in an old man's voice* GIVE ME BACK MY VOICE!
 
THAT gives Florence an opportunity to drop the old man in the s***.
 
Florence: He cursed her! That’s the Diva! Stregoni!
 
And since some of the opera patrons coming out of their boxes to see what all the commotion is recognise Signora Cavollaro’s jewelry, and the old man tries to defend himself with the Diva’s unmistakable voice, the growing crowd on the third floor has a excuse for some peremptory justice. Some of the staff patch up Alex and check that Florence is OK, then hurry off after the rest of the mob.
 
GM: If there’s going to be a lynching, they don’t want to miss it.
 
Not that any of this has affected the performance much - the Show Must Go On! In fact Huxley doesn’t get to make his escape until Alex comes looking for him, and the first thing he does is check Alex’s bandages. They’re a bit insulted by his dismissal of their first aid skills, even if he is the professional medic of the party. 
 
Alex: I got all my Girl Guide badges you know.
 
At least Alex got a souvenir - the old man's knife, which to Huxley's eye seems better suited to delicate work than to your average stabbing. Flo, struggling under the awkward weight of the Torso, still hasn’t found the fire escape, and ends up out on the terrace overlooking the plaza. Where every hair on the back of her neck stands up, as she’s overwhelmed by the same primal terror of a small animal that KNOWS a large predator is somewhere very close, and getting closer. She hurries back inside, badly shaken. The Torso, if anything, is getting harder to carry, in much the same way cats seemingly get heavier at will. 
 
Florence: Don’t you realise we’re trying to get you back together????
 
The statue seems to get more cooperative, and before too long she's tottering along the edge of the plaza like she’s merely twelve months pregnant.
 
Florence: Good girl. Good statue.
 
That’s where Huxley finds her, while everybody else is distracted by the police cars pulling up at the opera house. She doesn’t want to tell him what happened, because she’s still thoroughly wigged out by the fear that gripped her on the terrace. 
 
Florence: We need to get this out of sight... There’s something around.
 
Might still be, too - somebody is watching them from the balcony. Huxley doesn’t recognise them from this distance, at night, but they’re tall, slim, and have unfashionable long hair if they’re male. And they’re looking. Right. At. Florence. And. Huxley. Florence is quite glad to get back their rooms at the Galleria, bolting all the doors and windows, and dumping the Torso next to the Arm. 
 
Florence: See? See, I told you, there’s your arm. *gives the Torso a friendly pat*
 
Nonetheless, she insists they get out of Milan as soon as possible - for one thing staying literally just across the road from la Scala is asking for trouble. The trio pack up in a hurry, and intend to wait at the train station until the next Orient Express leaves for Venice - which won’t be until after lunch. At least the Compagnie Internationale des Wagons-Lits provides an excellent waiting room for passengers on their train. The Orient Express staff may well wonder if the investigators got AM and PM confused, but they're far too polite to actually say so.

The complex under the Lucky Bones is decorated with images of Mahathallah, the Dowager of Illusions, and one of the few female entities to have achieved much recognition in Asmodeus’ grossly misogynist realm. It’s also not abandoned.
 
Mook 1: Got any Fours?
Mook 2: Go Fish!
 
At least they have the advantage of being attractive women, so Rajira doesn’t immediately stab them. The rest of us block the obvious exits while Rajira gets their attention with some hostage-taking. 
 
Rajira: Keep. Your weapons.  Sheathed.
The Women: *drop their cards and look surprised* Okay… and what are you doing here?
Rajira: I seek the twins Angus and Phennio Shellet.
The Women: You'll need to be quick then, for Mahathallah’s chosen will soon spill the blood of those twins on the altar, and the Whore Queen herself will descend upon you!
Terzo: Ah. Well, that answers one question anyway.
 
Unfortunately the combat doesn’t wake up the other guards. Unfortunately for them, that is, because after she’s finished off the first two Rajira can go room to room and cut their throats as they sleep. 
 
GM: For a party of non-murder-hobos, Rajira is exceptionally skilled at murder.
Civilla OoC: There’s nothing murder-hobo about her, she’s a murderer. An assassin.
Ayva OoC: And getting very well-paid for it.
Rajira OoC: No I’m not - it's one of the things I’m disgruntled about.
 
The devotees of Mahathallah certainly seem to like decorating with razor-sharp pieces of metal. Doesn’t seem to be doing the mood of the locals any good though - the Bearded Devil sitting behind the desk looks very bored. Rajira hurriedly signals for assistance.
 
Bearded Devil: More cutists... Whadya want? They’re not ready yet. Honestly, waiting for the cusp of adulthood to sacrifice a soul is a bloody waste of time! souls are souls regardless of how long they’ve been lodged in living flesh… Luculla Promised me the Thirteenth soul, what are we at now, five? 
Rajira: Can we at least check on them? The boss is getting antsy and she’s taking it out on us.
Bearded Devil: They’re over there.  I can’t believe I have to wait for eight more of these before I get mine.
Civilla: That hardly seems fair - you’re doing all the.. Work.
 
Two young men, both thin and disheveled, cower in the southeast corner of the otherwise bare chamber. Faces dirty and streaked with tears, both teens are bound hand and foot by manacles chained to a single ring set in the stone floor. Scratches on the stone walls from desperate fingers attest to the fact that these twins are not the first of this room’s recent prisoners.
 
Civilla: Well, there’s only five have come in through THIS office…
Bearded Devil: Are you implying… No, I know if Luculla was trying to stiff me. As you can see  they’re perfectly fine and will be alive for whatever you cultists have planned. And tell them to get some more, I want this to be OVER.
Rajira: I don’t have much interaction with the catch teams, but I’ll do what I can. Oh, but I do have something else to give you. It’s important. *STAB*
 
It’s not a one-stab-kill, but we do kill the devil and get the kids out. Will do find a set of iron doors, sealed and marked with a dire warning by the Order of the Torrent. Probably NOT worth opening. The temple we find next, decorated with images of a number of unpleasant entities, also has a few interior decorators who remain oblivious of Rajira and the celestial leopard until Too Late. The aforementioned Luculla, unfortunately for us, is alert enough to Summon a Giant Fiery Wasp from Heck. Unfortunately for her, Civilla can substitute any summoned monster with one of hers and replaces it with a Shadow Chicken. A very confused Shadow Chicken. 
 
Civilla’s player complains that the symbols for most of the Pathfinder gods are too complex.
 
Ayva’s player: I wouldn’t want to be a cleric of on of those religions - ‘Holy s*** a vampire - give me 20 minutes.’
 
Whilst the Order of the Torrent certainly sealed off part of the complex down here with assorted dire warnings, they appear to have missed a secret door down a pit.
 
GM: Rajira and Civilla go around the outside of the pit.
Civilla’s player: Two trailer park girls go round the outside, round the outside… sorry. 
 
GM: You find the hidden switch to disable the traps around the pit.
Ayva: Part of me wants to add a label - ‘ pull for light’.
Terzo: So, do you need me to stay up here as an anchor for the rope?
GM: I don’t think you want to try and jump the spike pit, Terzo.
Terzo: We COULD just drop all the tables, beds and mattresses down the hole. 
GM: …
Civilla OoC: We got everything we needed in the earlier rooms - oh my god it’s a reverse Gygax dungeon.
 
The rooms beyond are cold. Unnaturally, dead-of-winter cold. And it certainly sounds like there’s plenty of dead down here to go with the cold. And suspicious pale yellow fungus, which we set on fire from a cautious distance. We find ourselves not far from the doors the Order of the Torrent sealed.
 
Civilla: Yeah, real secure guys.
Rajira: Oh, be fair, they didn’t know about the secret door.
 
It’s just as well that Ayva has Deathsight, so we aren’t surprised by the ghost of the halfling woman we soon encounter. 
 
Ghost of the Gambling Halfling: A wager? A game? Oh, I’ve waited so long! These bones are lucky tonight! Care to wager part of yourselves, to earn my secrets?
Civilla: Can we specify which part?
Ghost: Just part of your lifeforce.
Civilla: Then no. 
Rajira: So, what’s the game?
 
She wants to play Odds or Evens, a very simple dice game of pure chance. 
 
Ayva: We’d better get to use our own dice.
Civilla: I should hope so, she’s certainly going to insist on using hers. 
 
Rajira wins the first round, and the ghost cheerfully answers her question about the other residents - we were right, there are quite a few other undead. Unfortunately, for the next round someone else has to roll, and Terzo can’t inspire his own skill in Sleight of Hand. Happily he doesn’t have to. 
 
Terzo: The Lady appears to be with me this evening, madam. You said yourself there are no other gamblers down here - is there any way we can help you go on to wherever you might find others of your proclivities? Hobby? Profession?
Ghost: You want to help me Move On! Such kindness from those I would have considered prey in life! I do miss the sunlight - you could see to it the dawn touches my bones. 
 
Ayva wins the next round too.
 
Civilla: I’m looking around for a hidden shrine to Desna (Goddess of Luck).
Ayva: I certainly owe her a big favour.
 
Ayva: Tell me all the secrets down here.
Ghost: That’s a touch broad - how about ‘A river runs beneath us, you know, and its dark currents have brought in new visitors below our feet…’ - there, that’s suitably vague. 
 
Civilla: Before I roll, there are things I need to know. What if you can’t answer?
Ghost: Well, I’m hardly omniscient - I was just the old Guildmaster. ‘I don’t know’ is a legitimate answer, Oh wait, I just told you something about myself! You’ll have to play twice. 
Civilla: I don’t think so. 
 
Civilla loses, but the ghost wasn’t cheating.
 
Ghost: I do try to play fair. Now hold still, this won’t hurt a bit. I just want some of your memories.
GM: Take 3 CON damage.
Civilla OoC: Oh thank god, I thought you were going to say 6 Negative Levels.
Ghost: Such wonderful memories!
Civilla OoC: Are you sure about that? Every night for a Changeling is nightmares, dreams and visions sent by our Hag mother.
 
So it might be a matter of some concern that a lot of the people that we’ve been killing down here are also probably Changelings.
 
Civilla: Dammit, I need to play another round - there’s an answer I NEED to know.
 
She loses again. And has to risk a third round.
 
Civilla: Those of us that wish to escape our pasts must do so on their own, as the Redeemer Queen did. Did the Changelings we killed here have the same mother?
Ghost: Indeed! And you killed her. 
Civilla OoC: Hmm. There’s a head I need to collect.
Terzo OoC: Am I going to regret asking?
Civilla OoC: Probably - there’s a magic item you can make from the shrunken heads of evil hags, used by witches who want a coven but don’t want to associate with evil hags.
Terzo OoC: I was right, I do regret asking.
Ayva OoC: The heads are still animated, incidentally. 
 
Terzo happens to know that the Redeemer Queen was the first succubus, but has become a goddess and rejected Chaotic Evil. Which has him looking at his student with an odd expression. The Guildmaster’s ghost hopes we’ll actually follow through on putting her to rest, but there’s still more of the complex to explore.  And Wretchghosts, which are what happens to very unfortunate addicts. And who can inflict the same addiction on the living. 
 
Terzo: Don’t let them touch you!!!
Wretchghost: Firssst Onnnne Freeeee!!!!
 
This is very, very bad for us - Civilla (already badly weakened by the ghost earlier) promptly succumbs, Ayva isn’t much better, and Rajira has nothing that can hurt them - apart from that intelligent Kukri which would be a move of utter desperation. Desperate retreat is in order, until they stop following us.

HORROR ON THE ORIENT EXPRESS - MILAN - Note For Note Pt.2
 
Jan 1923
 
IN WHICH THE INVESTIGATORS DISCUSS THE MEANING OF LIFE AND LIVE ORGAN TRANSPLANTS
 
While Lt. Huxley is off investigating the disappearance of opera diva Caterina Cavollaro, and accidentally stumbling across what appears to be an organlegging ring in 1920s Milan, Florence and her first-cousin-once-removed Alex are relaxing in the apartment at the Galleria. At least until Florence remembers that she’s supposed to be writing about her trip for her editor Edward Huntington-Smythe back at the Daily News London.
 
She probably can’t write about the horrifying death of Col. Herring in the Simplon Tunnel - as much as it’s highly newsworthy (at least for certain papers, like The Scoop) publicising it would make her persona non grata with the Compagnie Internationale des Wagons-Lits. And her Great-Uncle Henry and Great-Aunt Esther would be appalled when they find out the details.
 
On the other hand she can always write about the disappearance of the diva - the kidnapping of attractive young women is always newsworthy, as long as they’re rich, white, and famous. Get a few statements from members of the public, and suitably damning statements from the authorities, and you might even have enough for a special Sunday feature section. Florence can even get her own photos, although she’s initially reluctant to go to il Duomo and photograph the shrines and votive candles dedicated to the opera star. She and Alex are both firmly CoE, for one thing. 
 
GM: I mean if you’ll burst into flame stepping through the door, I’ll understand if you don’t.
Florence: Or the Archbishop of Canterbury suddenly sits bolt-upright and says ‘SOMETHING IS WRONG’.... It’s not like we went in there to see the artwork. It’s like they know.
 
Refreshments at Biffi’s, on the ground floor of the Galleria, first. Although actually getting the meal is delayed when la cameriera has an emotional breakdown before she’s even finished taking the order. Apparently the disappearance of the diva has left many of the Milanese in an overwrought state - God help the kidnappers if they are ever caught.
 
Waitress: La Scala is the heart of Milan, Signora - and the Diva is the heart of La Scala!
 
That’s not the only thing that the Milanese are overwrought about - a couple a few tables away have a blazing public row that culminates with the woman slapping her partner and storming out. 
 
Florence: Well, this is Italy.
GM: Apparently it was an argument about fashion.
Florence: Yep, Italy. Definitely going in the article. 
Alex: The volatile temperament of the Latin.
Florence: “Even in the midst of this city-wide tragedy, the passions of the people run hot”
 
It’s all a bit much. Although Father Angelico at the cathedral has a theory about why the Milanese have been so excessively emotional of late. He certainly disagrees about which building is the heart of Milan.
 
Father Angelico: We Milanese have lost much faith in the One True God. Our lack of animation stems from a soulless devotion to appearance instead of substance. In these dim days, we worship actors and singers. As attendance at Mass decline, attendance at la Scala increase! La Scala is the house of evil! *bewilderingly bursts into tears*
 
That might explain why he wasn’t entirely happy to have Florence photograph the shrines dedicated to Cavollaro’s safe return, but in return for a donation to the church roof fund, and a chance to practice his English, he’s happily to show Alex and Florence around the building, at least until he has to prepare for the evening service, and before he has the aforementioned outburst.
 
He’s not the last eccentric they encounter in il Duomo, either - there’s the older gentleman who has apparently misplaced his pet chameleon, but who hurried off when Alex and Flo offered to help. At least, it’s presumably his chameleon - the lizard certainly seems interested in the bottleful of dead moths the man dropped in his haste. Alex manages to catch the beast while Florence tries to track down the owner. For a reptile with conical eyes, it certainly manages an expression of withering contempt.
 
Alex: Yeah, I’m not that fond of you either, creature.
 
Eventually they leave the lizard and handful of dried bugs in the care of a baffled priest, in case the owner comes back for them. Why would you even bring your lizard to church anyway, wonders Florence. It’s not like it’s an orphan lamb that needs hourly feeding. Or even that possum her mother cared for that time. Or the kangaroos. In fact, in retrospect, it’s probably just surprising that the animal is a lizard.
 
Florence: I give him some money in case he has to look after the lizard, long-term. 
 
Huxley returns to the Galleria in time for supper - he’s a bit perturbed, to put it mildly. Lung transplants are completely impossible, and there is no reason at all why you’d transfer the diseased organs back into the ‘donor’, especially if you were just going to kill him anyway. 
 
Florence: The Great War has advanced medical technology in leaps and bounds?
 
Although this leap has taken the surgeons well past the Moral Event Horizon.
 
Huxley: The body of Ennio Spinola has been obviously tampered with by a person or persons with medical capabilities beyond anything in the published literature.
   The idea of replacing diseased or damaged body parts has been around for millennia. As early as 600 BC, the use of autogenous skin flaps to replace missing noses was conceived, and by the 16th century, Tagliacozzi and other pioneering plastic surgeons were successful with such procedures. And certainly we have made great strides in skin grafting in the aftermath of the Great War. But the transfer of entire internal organs from one person to another… human to human… and to do it so seamlessly… no one has ever succeeded!
    I mean, the base surgical techniques one would theoretically need for such a procedure are in their infancy. It’s been barely a decade since Alexis Carrel walked away with the Nobel Prize for the perfection of vascular suturing, his work is amazing!… let me think… there were technically successful kidney transplants in the early 1900s… not by Carrel… who was it?.... yes, Emerich Ullman… dog autotransplant and dog-to-goat xenografts… and then of course those abhorrent human renal transplants performed by Jaboulay and Unger using goat and monkey donors. But, none of those xenografts functioned for more than a few days and compared to… to THIS… it’s like comparing a crude Palaeolithic sculpture to a Michelangelo!
   How they did something…so… so exquisite is beyond me. To take a seemingly healthy man, cut him open, to remove his lungs and graft in a substitute pair and to do all so seamlessly and without stitches.
    And yet, the genius behind this must also be possessed with diabolical intent. The sacred duty of all medical practitioners is to do no harm. Why would someone go to the trouble of installing filthy disease-riddled lungs into the patient… the victim? Could the rampant tuberculosis be an unwanted side-effect of the procedure? Poor sterilization… not likely in an operation so meticulous. No… these are the lungs of a victim riddled with tuberculosis for years.
    I fear we are facing a medical genius whose intellect is marred by the most infernal depravity, a mind on par with Doyle’s Professor Moriarty.
 
But it's not until later in the evening as they’re preparing for bed (and Florence is developing her negatives in the bathroom in the portable dark room) that anything further happens to upset Huxley’s equilibrium. Because that’s when he hears singing - very familiar singing. It’s the Ritorna vincitor! aria from Aida. And it’s Caterina Cavollaro’s voice. 
 
Thankfully, the Lieutenant is not hallucinating - Alex can hear it too, although Florence is too busy with the negatives to come check. People and police are coming out onto the streets, too, but all the echoes from the tall buildings and cobbled roads make it impossible to locate the source before it falls into silence. And that silence is broken only by the sobs of distraught Milanese. 
 
Huxley starts putting the disjointed pieces of the puzzle together - the Torso of the Sedefkar Simulacrum was purchased by somebody from Teatro alla Scala. Flavio Contio, industrialist and patron of la Scala, has miraculously recovered from tuberculosis, at the same time a unionist miraculously acquired a pair of tuberculosis-riddled lungs and free extra stabbing. Caterina Cavollaro, star of Aida, has been kidnapped by somebody she probably knew from the opera house. And the Diva has apparently been turned into a lizard. Or was a were-chameleon the whole time. It would explain why that chameleon shows up again, in the last alley he heard the Diva’s voice in. 
 
GM: And of course, if there IS somebody in Milan collecting healthy lungs for transplant experiments, well, an opera diva would have to have pretty healthy lungs. 

Huxley: I’ve just had another horrible thought - was that even Cavollaro singing tonight? 
Alex: There can’t be that many people that can sing like that.
Huxley: That’s true.
 
Alex: It must be interesting to be inside your mind, Lt.
 
He persuades Alex that a late-night visit to Conti’s apartment is in order. There certainly seems to be somebody inside, although they’ve left all their upstairs windows open on a winter’s night. If Conti still has tuberculosis, he must be insane. Happily, he’s also left his door unlocked, so Huxley can go in and ask him in person. And why he has the same model Alfa Romeo RL Limousine the Diva was last seen getting into. Alex is reluctant to follow this lead (especially without Florence the steak-knife-wielding team bruiser along) but lets themselves be persuaded. 
 
Alex: Alright, let's go get ourselves arrested.
 
They can find weapons inside, surely.
 
Huxley OoC: I’ll grab the pokiest poker. +3 Vorpal Pokey.
 
Sneaking into the house, Huxley promptly knocks over a vase, and has to grab frantically to stop the crash. At least whoever is upstairs never heard the noise. 
 
GM: Although you’re getting the same look of withering contempt from Alex that Alex got from the lizard earlier.
 
Of course then the two of them knock the vase over together, and Alex tumbles down the cellar steps. THAT lures Conti out.
 
Flavio Conti: Chi è là?
Huxley: Mr. Conti? I need to ask you some questions about the disappearance of Caterina Cavollaro. 
 
Conti’s reaction is to freeze, then run away back to his room and slam the door. That’s enough evident guilt to fill Huxley with a righteous wrath. 
 
Huxley: I grow a single hair from my chest.
 
He can hear Conti yelling into the phone in his study (and at least one word is Polizia!) and bangs on the door. Time to test some other hypotheses.
 
Huxley: Cavollaro! Tuberculosis! Spinola!
 
Conti shoots him through the door. 
 
Fortunately the bullet only grazes his ribs, so he lies off to one side, banging with the poker and yelling more keywords until Conti runs out of bullets, then charges in and wrestles the old man to the ground. Now they have to interrogate him.
 
Alex: We should have brought Flo with us - she can get anybody to spill the beans. 
GM: It’s nearly 11PM, and they’re not back yet. Do you want to go see if anything happened to them?
Florence: They’re grown adults - I’m going to bed.
GM: So we’ll cut back to Conti’s apartment, where the two grown adults have just had a loud scuffle with multiple gunshots and all the windows open, and left the front door open. 
Italian Policeman at the door: Signore Conti?
 
Alex tries to distract him with her complete lack of Italian. Huxley starts inventing a plausible story to explain all the commotion, but doesn’t notice that Conti doesn’t yell for help now that rescue has apparently arrived. In fact, the moment that Huxley and the policeman are distracted, he leaps out the open window. Most unwise - even with fresh young lungs, the man is nearly 60, and it’s a second-storey window. By the time they get downstairs he’s bleeding out. At least he gets a few last words, staring at the blood flowing from his body. 
 
Conti: But… but.. The Brothers of the Skin. Cannot… die…
 
At least the police believe Alex and Huxley when they claim they only wanted to talk to Conti about the diva, but he went berserk the moment they mentioned her name. The language barrier actually helps, once they convince the British Consul of their innocence and get him to intervene on their behalf. Having all that money obviously proves they’re respectable people.
 
Detective: I hope this doesn’t ruin your opinion of Italy. You are perfectly safe here *glancing down at Huxley’s bloodstained shirt* under normal circumstances.
 
Of course, that’s the same reason a different police station uses to refuse the investigators a gun permit in the morning - Mussolini’s Italy is safe for law-abiding foreigners, and Mussolini is Always Right. 
 
That’s not the only thing that leaves Florence cranky - she had to go around to the police station in the middle of the night, with their passports, after an exhausting evening preparing the negatives and text for her news report.  
 
GM: Going to add anything about Conti to your article?
Florence: I’d only just finished writing it up before I got rudely woken up.
GM: You’re not going to rewrite it just because your friend got shot.
 
At least there’s some telegrams from Beddows and Prof. Smith waiting for them at the Telegraph Restant office - they report that the Professor is recovering well, and the records of the Teutonic Knights indicate they’ll need to find Sedefkar’s scrolls to finally destroy the Simulacrum. 
 
The police have finally declared Cavollaro’s disappearance a kidnapping, but they’re keeping their investigation of Conti’s involvement quiet for now. It doesn’t seem Conti was calling the police last night, because nobody shows up to arrest Huxley and Alex. None of that stops the papers being full of headlines like CAVOLLARO ABDUCTED, OPERA STAR MYSTERY, and GIVE AIDA BACK!. And the following - 
 
CAVOLLARO'S DISAPPEARANCE
Another tragedy?
 
Arturo Toscanini, director of La Scala, announced today that "Aida" would open tonight with understudy Maria Dimattina appearing in the title role. Original star Caterina Cavollaro is still missing.
Toscanini, in response to comments regarding the "ghost voice" of last night and other reputedly unnatural occurrences, said "There is no substance to these stories. They are mere gossip and old wives' tales."
Paolo Rischonti, props manager for the opera, told a different tale. "We thought our troubles were over," he said, "when the costumiers' curse ended with the preparations for Aida, but now the bad luck is on the set itself. People are being injured or falling ill, and props are disappearing. Where will this end?"
Tonight's performance is booked out, but the opera is scheduled over the next four weeks.

They still have to investigate the opera house, which is utter bedlam less than a day from curtain call. By the time they actually find somebody with answers, they’ve been injured by chariot wheels, had to pass off unexpected wooden heads, and the lieutenant has been recruited as an extra by the lead tenor, who Alex and Florence both notice is checking out Huxley’s ass. Huxley himself is oblivious. 
 
GM: Very affectionate people, the Italians. 
 
Paulo Rischonti, the props manager who purchased the Torso in Paris as part of a job lot, is not exactly happy that Alex and Flo want to buy it. Or at least, not happy that they want to buy it tonight, of all nights, when he has a hundred other things to do. He keeps his temper, barely, but develops an instant migraine.
 
Rischonti: You are clearly rich, eccentric British collectors, so of course I must drop everything to satisfy you. At least go and have a look at the thing first, but please, don’t come back here today. 
 
But when they find the costumier’s department, where the ancient evil artifact was being used as a dressmaker’s dummy, they discover it’s already gone. Apparently one of the younger stagehands collected it earlier. 
 
Ancient Seamstress: The one with the hair and the nose. 
Ancient Seamstress 2: Oh, his grandfather was so handsome.
 
That report leads to three different rumours - it’s been thrown out, sold to a collector, or accidentally dropped into the basement - but by then it’s so close to opening time they’re going to get chased out anyway. Alex and Florence track Huxley down to tell him the news, before going back to the Galleria to change into formal wear for the performance. The Lt. is half-dressed as an Egyptian soldier. Florence, of course, gets a photo. 
 
Florence: We need to go get changed for tonight.
Huxley: I seem to have roped into a non-speaking part.
Alex: We wouldn’t miss it for the world.
 
Huxley: I think I might be exactly where I need to be - the only reason these ‘Brothers of the Skin’ would be in Milan is if they know one of the pieces of the Simulacrum is here. And all these wild coincidences are coming together. 
GM: Welcome to the opera.
Huxley: If nothing happens this evening I’m going to be very very surprised. 
 
Florence gives their now superfluous front row ticket to that waitress from Biffi’s - she’s extremely excited.
 
Waitress: I will sing along with the aria tonight! I have so many things I would like to wish for!
 
Thousands of people are waiting to see the opera when they return but the mood is funereal. The understudy is certainly no patch on Cavollaro, but when she sings the aria the opera house thrums with sound. Hundreds of people are singing along tonight - so many desperate wishes and fervent desires. 
 
And one of them is singing is Cavollaro’s voice - the old man Alex and Florence saw at the cathedral, only a few seats away across the center aisle. He has a scarred throat above his collar, as does the aged, slack-mouthed woman with sagging skin beside him. On the stage Radames enters the Temple of Phtah to receive his armour, and as the priests lift it off the dressmaker’s dummy the Torso swims in the spotlight. The investigators recognise it by the sheen like opalescent marble, but Arturo Faccia, Brother of the Skin, recognises it by the leap in his greedy, obsessive heart. He screams in ecstasy, with the Diva’s stolen voice, even as the spotlight on the Sedefkar Simulacrum dies. 

Civilla: Ooh, I can summon crocodiles now.
Ayva: They’re a good aquatic option.
Civilla: But if I make them chthonic…
Rajira: A pair of eyes, not just above the waterline, but just above the grass…

Ayva: We’re running a (legitimate) printing press… we’re going to get so many orders. And signatures.
Civilla: Well, yes.
Ayva: You truly are an Alazario. I say this with all the love I can muster - you are a conniving bitch.
Civilla: I set out not to be my mother’s daughter - and I ended up my mothers daughter.

Ayva: We need to squeeze more money out of this rebellion thing.

With the help of our agents throughout the city, we ensure the Nox rumour thoroughly overtakes any whispers about the real rebellion.

Thrune: There is no rebellion, it’s clearly Nox! Either that or incompetence - PICK ONE.

Thrune releases a Tenth Proclamation.

POSSESSION OF POETRY OR PROSE WRITTEN BY THE FOLLOWING AUTHORS IS HEREBY FORBIDDEN AND PUNISHABLE BY A FINE OF 100 GOLD PIECES OR IMPRISONMENT: BOSWYTH THE BARD, TERZO PORCINUS, CHARLETTA D’VANEP, GHENRAIL OF VYRE, AND THE ANONYMOUS MISCREANT WHO CALLS THEMSELF THE “POISON PEN OF KINTARGO.” ALL DOCUMENTS BEARING THE WRITINGS OF THESE MISCREANTS MUST BE TURNED OVER TO THE DOTTARI FOR DESTRUCTION BY SUNDOWN.

Terzo: … I’m going to kill him.
Civilla: Terzo, we’re going to go to my library, and you’re going to pick a few select volumes - no more than four - that we’re not going to hand over.

Civilla: This is an opportunity to broaden your stylistic horizons, Terzo! You’ll have to choose a nom-de-plume, of course.
Ayva: I recommend a female name.
Civilla: And reduce the amount of caniphilia references.
Terzo: I note he hasn’t banned graffiti.

Civilla: I’m thinking we start planting books with Terzo’s name on the cover and Sepia Snake Sigil on the frontispiece.

Using a Bag of Holding, an excellent bluff, and her good looks, Civilla manages to save most of Terzo’s output, before handing over a stack of spare copies.

Civilla: I admit I had a fair amount of his work in my library, officer, but he was my tutor.

Civilla: We can also claim you didn’t have many copies of your own work because you keep foisting them off on people.
Terzo: *sigh* Unfortunately, that is quite believable.

Investigating the missing children is at least a good distraction from Terzo’s plans of revenge. Although the old woman at the tenement yells abuse at us apparently assuming we’re jobless layabouts, until we make it clear that we actually have jobs. And money. The twins were apparently nearly of age, and their family practically respectable, at least compared to some of the other residents, particularly one who is out all hours and comes home stinking of death. Probably just an abattoir worker.

The Parents: Strange that people of your station would take an interest in the likes of us.
Rajira: The situation in Kintargo is in flux - if we don’t look after each other, no-one else will.

Apparently the twins worked at the Lucky Bones, which was burnt to the ground by the Order of the Torrent just prior to them being outlawed. Which is suspicious, especially given the hellknights’ hatred of kidnappers, the age of the twins, and the subsequent disappearance of said teenagers. Fortunately, we find one of the kid’s diaries, with some intensely disturbing reports about the kind of things the kids overheard at what was apparently a secret drug den.

Civilla: Called it.

Prayers to Norgorber, the evil god of assassination, secrecy, and theft, are particularly worryig, since one of the precepts of the religion is murdering anybody that might have overheard your devotions.

Most of the neighbours didn’t see anything, or refuse to talk to us, but Varl Wex, the one that stinks of death, urine, cheese, and irregular work hours, may have actually seen something since there’s no predicting when he’ll be home.

Terzo OoC: Plus he’s an obvious red herring.

Rajira starts picking Wex’s lock.

Terzo: I didn’t see anything, I know nothing…
Civilla: Well if you keep acting like that it’s almost like you want to get noticed. We’re doing something entirely illegal here and the sooner you accept that the better.

Wex’s lock is considerably more difficult to pick than Rajira expected. And the room beyond stinks of Slurk grease, presumably the same appalling odour shared by the resident. He also has a number of books on alchemy. And a trail of bloodspots from the window to the bathroom. And a hidden crawlspace in what should be a load-bearing pillar. And a glowing kukri on a stand.

Civilla: *looks from the knife to Rajira* Moonlighting?
Rajira: It’s not mine.
Civilla: …. That’s the Temple Hill Slasher’s blade.
Ayva: Well, if we’re not touching it-
Rajira: Who said I’m not touching it?
Civilla: It’s an intelligent weapon!
Rajira: Yes, and I’m sure I can control it-
Civilla: That’s not my point, I’m concerned you want to try it out HERE.
Rajira: Ah, I’ll concede that.

Wex’s notes are disturbing, and obsessed with the serial killer and his magical weapon. It’s a relic of a very unpleasant cult, and Wex is convinced that he was put in the world to continue the monster’s work.

Ayva OoC: We did remember to lock the door behind us, yes?
Civilla OoC: We did not.
Ayva OoC: We don’t break into enough places, we need more practice.

That is probably why Wex, wearing a bloody apron and wielding a merely mundane dagger, is suddenly growling behind Terzo’s ear.

Wex: Give me the blade and no-one gets hurt.
Ayva: You’re getting quite good at those voices, Terzo.
Terzo: *knife at his throat* …
Rajira: Well, it looks like we get to do this somewhere private.
Ayva: Our good deed for the day.

Luckily for Terzo, Civilla has a Celestial Leopard and a few spells to keep the maniac busy even as he’s trying to keep his grip on Terzo. The rest of the stuff Rajira and Ayva bring to bear are just as ruthless.

Civilla OoC: Terzo is getting up-close-and-personal proof that the rest of us are not nice people.

Terzo is basically being swung around the room by the neck as Wex fends off attacks and spells from all sides, since the spell Deja Vu ensures he has to keep doing that rather than cut Terzo’s throat and drop the body. Eventually Wex succumbs to sudden disembowelment by Rajira, on top of all the other horrendous injuries.

GM: The magical kukri Balgorrah would probably be salivating about all of this if you hadn’t stuffed it into an extradimensional space.
Balgorrah: You cut-teasing b****!
Rajira: If I can control it, I’m keeping it.
Civilla: Why???
Rajira: It’s a kukri.
Civilla: We’ll make one just as good that won’t turn you evil.
Ayva: What are we doing with that one?
GM: The temples of Abadar or Shelyn will buy it off you.
Ayva OoC: To destroy it or redeem it, respectively
Rajira: We’ll take it to the Temple of Shelyn, I don’t want anything to do with those f***ing Abadarians.
Civilla: What?
Rajira: They’ve taken over my temples since the worship of Calistria was banned.
Civilla: They’ve taken over stewardship of the buildings.
Rajira: Yes, and that’s what we’re unhappy about!
Civilla: Yes, I can understand the anger, but it’s misdirected!
Ayva: Are we really having this conversation while we’re cleaning up all the blood?
Terzo: I’m more concerned whether the neighbours heard all the fighting.
Civilla: Probably - we’ll just spill some Slurk grease around the doorway - no-one will want to come in.
Ayva: *To the landlady of the tenement* Good news! We got rid of some of the smell, but there’s some things even Prestigitation won’t shift.

Terzo's player: Do we actually need the Niccolo Alazario standee anymore
Civilla's player: Probably, he’s an NPC now.
Ayva's player: And he’ll probably end up wandering into an overpowered encounter. Like the last two.

Rajira's player: Aw, you moved my line-dancers.
GM: Eh?
Rajira's player: The four Thug standees that were in front of me.
Ayva's player: Oh fine, I’ll move them back over there.
Civilla's player: Huh, they really do look like a line of dancers.
Terzo's player: ‘When you’re a Jet/You’re a Jet your whole life…’

But having accidentally dealt with a copycat serial killer, we still need to find out what happened to the missing twins, since apparently the aforementioned serial killer was smart enough to not kill anybody that lives in the same tenement. We send one of the Silver Raven to the Hellknights of the Torrent to ask exactly why they burned the Lucky Bones down. It might take a while to get a complete answer - the birds can only handle 25 words at a time.

GM: Are you sure the ravens aren’t blue?

Rajira OoC: OK, we’ll go meet Octavio and give the appropriate sign and countersign. And if it’s ‘show me your tits’ we’ll just kick him in the nuts afterward.
Terzo OoC: ‘Yes, those are the authentic tits’.

Octavio has snuck back into the city, but at least his current hiding place has fewer corpses lying around. Fewer, not none. Anyway, the Lucky Bones gambling and opium den that fronted for the slave ring known as the Grey Spiders, which were themselves an arm of the Cult of Norgorber. After the Knights of the Torrent started investigating, the Spiders assassinated the Torrent’s founder, and the rest of the hellknights brought the hammer down on their entire organisation - but never actually dealt with whatever was left under the Lucky Bones.

Civilla: Why do they always choose names that tell everybody what they do? If you ever hear of a group called The Rainbow Unicorns, know that I have gone into the slaving business.

At least the tunnels under the ruins of the Lucky Bones might make another hideout for the Rebellion. If we clear it out.

Rajira OoC: Hmm. I’ve got 40 HP now.
Terzo OoC: 43 here, but that’s mostly fat.

We’ll probably need those points, since we soon find a well-oiled hidden trapdoor in the ruins. But it’s very very stinky down there, and something is slithering. They’re Otyughs.

Terzo OoC: ‘I don’t care what you smell, get in there!

Terzo OoC: Why is it, whenever we find a new possible hideout for the rebellion, we have to clear out s*** like this?
Ayva OoC: It’s all cultist basements, what did you expect?
Rajira OoC: We’re the antagonists in a game of Cultist Simulator

Terzo: What do you brush your teeth with, stale urine and pig s***???? (it might even be true, I’m just hoping my tone of voice confuses them even if it doesn't make them burst into flame).

Before long the last of the things is cowering in a corner. Not that any of us have figured out what the hell they are.

Terzo: Er.. you know I don’t think this thing is a threat to us anymore? Maybe we can just leave it to do… whatever they do.
Rajira: I don’t want to spend any more time up here than we have to - it STINKS.
Ayva: We’re up to our ankles in literal s*** and you want to go lower down.

Unfortunately we’ve got even more poison to worry about before we can even go down another level.

Civilla: I don’t mean to sound like a heartless bitch, but as long as we can keep you from actually dying from it, there’s no reason why we can’t-
Rajira: Keep pressing on, I know.
Civilla: Don’t put words in my mouth. I was going to say ‘benefit from it’.

She wants to develop an antivenom from Rajira’s bad case of ‘poisoned’.

GM: I’m going to assume that by ‘milk’ you mean ‘drool into a cup because her saliva is poisonous’. Because I don’t want to think about the other options.

At least we find some interesting stuff amid the refuse, including a magical bead.

Rajira: Is it Venerable?
GM: Actually, when you look at it you wonder ‘how the F*** hasn’t that exploded yet?’
Rajira OoC: Ah. Necklace of Fireballs.
GM: Nope. Bead of Force.
Rajira OoC: Ah. That’s even worse.

Fireflash’s player: This is mostly for [Hardlight’s Player], but it's also a heads up for everyone else. Fireflash has had an idea. A wonderful, awful, terrible, great idea. The whole situation as regards the Moreaus is balanced on a legal knife-edge. (I've been chatting to [The GM] about this.) Particularly in terms of Property and Corporate law. Moreaus are classified as "wildlife"...and wildlife cannot own property or hold corporate office.
We know Moreaus who do both of those things.

Fireflash is going to talk to our friendly neighborhood corporate overlord about a possible way to kick over all the dominoes. If we find a WILLING Moreau who's in that position, we then sue them in court (or the corporation they work for) over that position. If we can get past initial standing issues, we should have a real shot at completely upending the current legal status of Moreaus. At the very least we should get some good publicity for their cause.

Hero Shrew’s player: Is 'part-time troubleshooter for the Justin Hammer-expy' a corporate position?
Fireflash’s player: Probably not a sufficiently high one. You're an employee, not a manager.
Hero Shrew’s player: true - plus putting Scooter anywhere near a courtroom is asking for the kind of chaos you don't want.
Flux's player: Plus I think Hardlight suing himself might not be appropriate.
Hardlight's player: I mean... I... COULD actually pull it off. I can technically be in both places at once - though if someone with even an inkling of special detection powers sits in the courtroom, the entire jig is up
GM: The issue would be Gareth Lowell suing Lowelltech.
Hardlight's player: yeah, probably not the best idea. I'm sure there's another poor dude who tried to get a job at Tyrell or something
Fireflash’s player: We need someone who actually has the position.
Flux's player: It just struck me that the keeping/sale of exotic wildlife is technically illegal in most states without a suitable permit. Please tell me that little hiccup was smoothed over ages ago Last thing we need is a wild VS domestic issue coming up. And now thanks to reading legal documentation I had to look up what a mayhaw is.

PENAL CODE - PEN
PART 1. OF CRIMES AND PUNISHMENTS [25 - 680.4] ( Part 1 enacted 1872. )
TITLE 14. MALICIOUS MISCHIEF [594 - 625c] ( Title 14 enacted 1872. )
599b. In this title, the word “animal” includes every dumb creature; the words “torment,” “torture,” and “cruelty” include every act, omission, or neglect whereby unnecessary or unjustifiable physical pain or suffering is caused or permitted; and the words “owner” and “person” include corporations as well as individuals; and the knowledge and acts of any agent of, or person employed by, a corporation in regard to animals transported, owned, or employed by, or in the custody of, the corporation, must be held to be the act and knowledge of the corporation as well as the agent or employee.

Flux's player: ok, that's interesting. "dumb creature" “or any other dumb animal." Not sure if that's a good or bad thing. Oh my god, you are allowed one potbellied pig per residence in addition to normal pets.
GM: A number of Supreme Court rulings have stated that the Fourteenth Amendment’s guarantees of due process and equal protection do not apply to sentient aliens, extradimensional entities, artificial intelligences, and the undead, because they are not “persons” under the law. On the other hand, they do apply to mutants, mutates, clones, and genetic constructs based on human stock. Congress has, however, passed laws granting at least limited rights to all “independent, free-willed, sentient entities” in American territory.

Although the GM does point out that for the last fifteen years, the local courts have always reached whatever decision stopped the cases going to a higher court. Which is especially odd since quite a few of the people involved hate Moreaus, and some of these decisions found in the Moreaus’ favour. Everybody in Edge City seems to accept that as the norm, and only outsiders like The Magus have thought it worthy of comment. It might be because some of us have high enough Power Defenses, or because some of us have even left town for more than a day.

GM: Remember that character you had to play for a while because Flux had been kidnapped?
Flux's player: Sunnuvabitch.
GM: Remember that ritual? My arms were getting tired swinging the clue bat.

Madam Lil is rather surprised when Fireflash brings her idea to her - she’s noticed the weird lack of impetus on the problem too, and had given up trying to push the matter forward.

Madam Lil: So it suddenly changed for you? I’ve noticed that before - it’s like this city can turn on a dime.
The Magus: … I’ll be back in 20 minutes.

He hurries off to check the ends of the local leylines - he has a suspicion that something arcane has been affecting the city for over a decade. But if it is, it’s really well hidden. But then it’s quite likely that we keep missing the clues the GM keeps dropping.

GM: You guys are REALLY distractible.

GM: You’re not a superteam, you're a therapy circle!

The Magus has a moment of inspiration - somebody has been summoning Memes. In fact they’ve been summoning multiple Memes.

GM: And then you take one look at Edge City and think ‘well f***, that explains so much.’

Memes are essentially AIs that run on peoples’ brains and spread by argument. They’re not essentially antagonistic towards humans, but the odd behaviour of the Edge City population suggests they aren’t necessarily benign either.

We get a request for a meeting, apparently from somebody who’s appearance just screams ‘Gothic Vampire Chick’.

Flux: Oh, a zombie.
GM: Wait, what, you see THAT picture and think ‘Zombie’?
Hero Shrew: Well, she’s not doing much breathing with a corset that tight.

The Magus’ player: Vampires aren’t really that dangerous in Champions.
Flux's player: What with all the androids, energy beams, etc.
The Magus’ player: They’re expensive pointwise too. They could be a lot more dangerous but it’s a really inefficient build.
Hero Shrew’s player: Well there’s the Watsonian and Doylist explanations.
GM: They also have the Stoker problem - everybody knows their weaknesses now.

The vampire Laura is amiable enough when she appears, out of a cloud of mist.

Fireflash: Nice trick.
Laura: Thanks - you try long enough and you get the knack.

She’s concerned that we’ve been rounding up some of her ‘blood relatives’, but just as concerned that the aforementioned vampire thalls have been acting openly enough that they got caught. Laura has also recently killed her sire, who is the DoLs mistress, which may have been a factor in their increasingly incautious activity. On the other hand, the DoLs vampirism was a new method recently invented by them, possibly in an effort to fill the void in their minds.

Laura: I’m trying to be a socially responsible vampire.

Laura: Now, I’d like to leave before your associate explains to you why using my blood won’t work.
The Magus: I wasn’t going to bring it up.
Laura: I want them to know, I just don’t want them to know about it.

Laura: I sorry but I don’t swing that way - you HAVE read Camilla, haven't you?

Laura turns back into a cloud of mist, which rolls off avoiding the increasingly stiff wind.

GM: She’s not a very powerful vampire.
Fireflash: That’s just how she rolls.

Flux: We keep getting all these fliers for cheap henchmen.
The Magus: Well, there’s an idea, if you have the money - hire all the henchmen and use them for public works, and price the villains out of the market.
The Magus: ‘I haven’t been shot at in weeks, AND I get dental!’
GM: Hey, don’t underestimate the Goon-ion.

Eventually we find a corporation that’s willing to volunteer to be the target for the lawsuit, with a Moreau employee that’s willing to risk their job if the suit doesn’t play out as everybody plans. Apparently the corporation is puzzled that nobody has tried it before too.

Corporate-type: Finally pulling the trigger on that, are they? Have at it!
Hardlight: If he turns out to be a goat I’m out of here.
The Rep: Yeah, that would be bad optics.

On the other hand, even as the various lawyers and groups involved conspire to kick the case up to the Supreme Court, we still have to deal with the feral memes. Although how feral are they, if they’re so tightly constrained to Edge City? Are they short-lived in this reality, which would explain why Edge City is so prone to sudden reversals in public opinion? We’ll have to keep a close eye on the zeitgeist in Edge City, to try and locate whatever summoning circle our opponents are using to sabotage social progress. Since they only spread by word of mouth, we may be able to track the associated memetic rumours.

Flux: Part of me wants to warn the Spinnerets about this, and then the rest of me goes ‘stop, no, that’s a terrible idea!’ - we don’t want the Spinnerets to even know these things exist!

The Magus: F*** me, this is a bleak apocalypse - there’s probably nobody in Edge City that’s still the person they’re supposed to be.

The corporation we’re working with to advance Moreau right via lawsuit is Erikson-Gulsvig Logistics GmbH, and their subdivision E-G Employment, who have been doing a lot of social outreach, street clinics and charitable programs lately - Safe houses for domestic violence victims, Homeless shelters, Rehab counseling & a number of camps where troubled youths receive guidance.

Flux OoC: It’s depressing, in the superhero settings, how often charitable groups turn out to be Evil.
GM: That's because we never get to see what the Johnathan and Martha Kent Foundation actually do.

We start an investigation, just in case our choice of collaborator is going to bite us on the bum laer. Scooter pokes around at street level, and suspects some of the Greys are staying at the homeless shelters, but nothing that would count as a big end-of-episode reveal.

We should probably tell somebody about the meme problem, in case something happens to us.

Hero Shrew: Flux knows Witchcraft, doesn’t he?
Flux: No no, Witchcraft kindly refrained from killing me the last time we met.
Hero Shrew: Well, she’d probably take it seriously if you go to her for help

On the other hand The Rep is probably immune to the meme, since any meme trying to infect him would have to get past his worldclass bulls***ing skills.

Although calling the Greys over the secret underground phone line does go a little strangely - apparently the ones at the homeless shelters are there to help, because the Moreaus suddenly approached them for help. But everything is going fine despite the Greys suddenly meddling in surface affairs. But meeting them in person to discuss it further is a bad idea. Really bad. Absolutely not on the table.

Grey: I mean, even if we met at Lake Park at 3AM someone would see us.
Fireflash: I… see. Well, you’ve been very helpful.
Grey: Actually I’ve been no help at all.
Hero Shrew: I’ve clearly missed something there.
Fireflash: Things are far from normal and they want to meet at Lake Park at 3AM.
GM: Their cyberpathy might not be the strongest but they can absolutely tell when a phone line is tapped. And this is their secure line.

The Grey Commune is currently highly stressed because somebody contacted them, psychically, and helped them out with a few problems.But now the time has come to pay them back, with little bits of psychic manipulation around town. Nothing apparently major, but some of the Greys are worried about it - some of the alterations they’ve been asked to do are weird. And it’s very weird that the psi-boosting drug they are provided with works on the Grey’s genetically modified biology.

The Grey we’re talking to is keenly aware that they’re going to get exposed sooner or later, but is doubly sure no-one will trust them because they’ve been hiding behind the scenes manipulating stuff for the last 15 years. And any sort of mental manipulation counts as Assault.

Grey: But don’t let the fact you might expose us stop you from doing the necessary.

Either way we’re going to need some way to tell when somebody has had their mind altered recently.

Fireflash: So you two had better invent some aura-detecting glasses. Or better yet goggles - that way when you fail we can say ‘The Goggles Do Nothing!’

The Magus’ sneaking around reveals that some people in the clinics are getting mental work done on them without their consent. The people are certainly in need of help, but it shouldn't be secretly like this. And there’s at least one member of stuff here who starts getting very suspicious whenever Magus and Flux report their discoveries, which may indicate a powerful dangersense. Her build - Russian Factory Worker - and Mama Bear vibe make the Magus reluctant to get any closer.

Hero Shrew: OK, these people need help, but the people given the help are going to be in so much trouble when they get found out. How will they react if we tell them we know?
Flux: Have you ever been mauled by a bear, and not in a sexual way? Because that’s what is going to happen if we get any closer.

We decide that they need to turn all the work they’re doing to voluntary treatment only, or we’ll arrest them. It’s a clear abuse of superpowers, so we won’t even need a warrant.

Hero Shrew: And if they do try to kill us then obviously they WERE up to something evil and we get to stop them anyway.
The Magus: The quickest way to get a result is to walk into the ambush and punch them in the face if they start anything.

Hero Shrew’s player: What the hell is that noise in the background, Weldun? It sounds like a cricket on cocaine.
The Magus’ player: What have you been doing on the weekends that you know what a cricket on coke sounds like?
Fireflash’s player: Have you been doing unauthorized experiments? Again? Reminds me of those experiments on spiders.
Hero Shrew’s player: I’ve got the t-shirt.
Fireflash’s player: My favorite was LSD.
Hardlight's player: Why would you give a spider drugs?
The Magus’ player: It’s way easier to get funding for spiders than orphans.
Hero Shrew’s player: Now THAT sounds like something The Magus would say.

Although to be honest they all seemed pretty in-character.

The Magus and Fireflash head in while the others watch for trouble - the Russian greets them cautiously, and certainly recognises Fireflash.

The Russian-presumed-Super: Permission? Written permission? Do you need written permission to take person through guided meditation? We tell them we will change their minds.

They claim they did have permission, but won’t let Fireflash see the files. She warns them that she’ll probably have to report them if they won’t.

The Russian: Why, because we are telepaths? You are bigot! This no different to telling ‘we summon good feelings into you!’

The counselors might well be licensed to operate in California, but the Greys looking through two-way mirrors in each ‘counseling session’ certainly aren’t. At least as mutates based on human stock their personhood is beyond legal dispute, and they don’t have to be registered as medical devices.

GM: It becomes, legally speaking, a very grey area.
Hero Shrew: ha ha.

On the other hand there’s also the matter of the drug our Grey contact mentioned. We’ll avoid mentioning that until we’ve done some more staking out and legwork. And background research on this Russian dame. If the Karen Sholokhov we investigate is actually the same person, she’s known as ‘Perestroika’ - Russian for ‘reconstruction’. She’s a rather powerful mass telepath, who can make any nearby her willing slaves, if they’re weak-willed enough. Although the Magus didn’t notice her actually using her own powers. She left Russia about the time Putin came to power. Surprisingly, she’s not superhumanly strong - but her Combat Luck and Danger Sense have kept her alive so far.

It looks like the aromatherapy program the Greys are on includes a psychoenhansive inhalant And with some sneakiness we can get hold of the stuff.

GM: Continual surveillance on somebody with Danger Sense could count as cruel and unusual punishment.

And then coming up with something to counter her Danger Sense will just ramp up her paranoia - ‘why can’t I feel them watching me anymore???’

The drug turns out to be very odd indeed, with some similarities to drugs circulated by the Scarlatti drug family in Baltimore in the 1990s. One of their customers was the first iteration of PSI.

The Magus: I’m just looking up the entry for the current iteration of PSI, and it says they’ve never been defeated thanks to caution and careful planning. And then they got accidentally defeated by Quadrant.
GM: Just goes to show you where bad luck can get you.

Flux: Now I’m worrying that somebody will get hold of the PSI drug and dump a bunch in some city’s water reservoir.

GM: PSI is also one of the few supervillain groups that hasn’t been plagued by internal betrayals.
The Magus: It helps where you’re basically the top rung of a psychic powers pyramid scheme.

It also looks like all of the precursor chemicals are coming from a company tasked with destroying them. A company that has all the facilities to turn merely dangerous chemicals into extremely dangerous chemicals. In industrial volumes.

Hero Shrew: Looks like the city reservoir idea is back on the menu.

We could always get them on Improper Storage And Disposal violations, but it’s probably going to require sneaking around first. It’s just as well we do sneak, because everybody in the facility is armed. With blasters. And there’s something weirdly fuzzy about them, even on the Magus’ scrying.

Hero Shrew: What are laws about private ownership of energy weapons?
GM: Not that different from kinetic weapons, honestly.
Flux: So you can only own an Orbital Death Laser for educational purposes.

And Magus’ mental awareness power is going ‘ping!’ continuously. And also weird that the rest of us didn’t think the place was weird until now.

Hardlight: Are we going in lasers blazing?
Hero Shrew: I can think of a few reasons not to, and one of them is that scene from Robocop.

(next session started with a long discussion that by complete coincidence included Bhopal, the Tianjin city explosion, the Halifax disaster and the fertilizer explosion in Beirut.)

Hero Shrew OoC: Anyway, speaking of chemical factory explosions…
GM: I haven’t found a map for the chemical factory.
Hero Shrew OoC: Just find a crater, it’ll probably end up that way.
Hardlight: Let’s just watch our backstop shall we?

Flux: On the bright side, if we do f*** up on the scale of any of the above, we won’t be around to get in trouble for it.
Fireflash: That’s not as reassuring as you think it is, Flux.

Unfortunately the moment we march onto the premises to announce the raid, the guards react by transforming their uniforms into armour. At least one of them is superpowered, too.

Fireflash: Nice trick.

And then the other defenses go off, which include an alarming amount of electromagnetic radiation going well up into the ionising variety.

Fireflash: Ouch!
Hero Shrew: Well, aren’t they going to be embarrassed if we were just here to invite them to a charity event.

A second super shows up.

Fireflash: A scary black person?
GM: A LIVING SHADOW
The Magus: I thought it was Hardlight with Foot-in-Mouth Disease
Flux: The difference is he does it by accident.

Magus hits one of the supers with a very effective illusion of teleportation to an alien cliff, Hardlight hits a mook with a point-blank PHOTON WAVE CANNON, and Scooter goes after another.

Hero Shrew: What’s the move in Mortal Kombat where you tear somebody’s entire spine and skull out through their a**hole?
The Magus: … I think that may have been from another title.
Hardlight: I’m pretty sure he pulls the opponent’s spine *upward*.
Fireflash: Forward, Down, Forward, High Punch in close range with Sub-Zero.

The mook instead gets thrown at the next one.

Hero Shrew: He’s probably just relieved I didn’t tear out his entire spine etc.

At least the radiation field doesn’t interfere with one of Flux’s powers.

The Magus: ‘BWAHAHAHA, you will never escape my anti-teleportation trap hero- oh f*** he can walk.’

The Magus: That would have been a good thing to add to the illusion - a giant sandworm appearing in the distance.
Enemy Super #1: *shakes his head to get rid of the illusion* Well, aren’t you a tricky one *lightning bolts Magus*

The living shadow is swooping in, and appears to be giggling. And the mooks have Goop Rifles. And the first supervillain hits Scooter in the face with a ball of lightning (and an under-the-breath ‘Hadouken!’).

GM: You are also blind for a time, and your radio is all staticky.
Fireflash: Hey! That’s my trick!
Flux: Then maybe you should stop demonstrating it to the bad guys.

It’s just as well Hardlight is such a bombastic character that there’s no chance Scooter will attack him by accident.

GM: ‘Don’t worry old chum, I’ll help yo- oh, you’re getting up by yourself.’

Fortunately, whoever the shadow is, we never find out what he had planned because he’s entirely vulnerable to EGO attacks. The Magus suspects that somebody has the ability to let their dark side off the leash.

Losing his back-up, and having his point-blank attack on Fireflash have absolutely no effect, the lightning-wielding super thinks that this might be a good time to leave. He just doesn’t leave fast enough, and get sniped out of the air by Magus. We’ll have to disentangle him from the maze of pipes later. Hero Shrew blinks off his blindness, and goes to deal with a mook that’s still blinded by Hardlight’s earlier, otherwise ineffective attacks.

The Magus: Yes, you should probably take that gun off him before hurts someone.
Hardlight: *charging up another PHOTON WAVE CANNON* Third time’s the charm…
The Magus: Oh, you think you can handle him now he’s blind and disarmed?

Hardlight: Remember your backstop!
Hero Shrew: I am. That’s why I’m not throwing a concrete slab at those two.
GM: I reserve the right to make bad suggestions on occasion

Shortly thereafter Hardlight finds himself in a very unfortunate position as regards a familiar-looking robot dinosaur.

GM: It opens its mouth.
Hardlight: … am I about to be Godzilla’d?
GM: Well, Mechagodzilla’d

Hardlight: That blast is going to hit 3 of us!
Flux: But nothing explosive. I think.

The energy blast certainly takes Hardlight out of the fight, and even knocks Scooter out briefly. In fact, if there is somebody in that Tokusatsu suit he’s certainly confident if he’s standing in the middle of three heavy hitters. And smart enough to Gank The Wizard First.

The Magus: Bad luck for him that I've got the strongest defenses in the team.

And further bad luck that Hardlight had taken out his Lightning Horn, before it could blat us with atomic fire from range again. Of course Gareth is probably the only person on the team that would recognise the cultural inspirations of the suit and target accordingly.

Hardlight: AlI know is that I want one.

Of course if the Mechagodzilla was supposed to keep us busy while the bad guys were getting away, they have a problem, because a few lucky hits leave it dazed on the ground, and Hero Shrew is coming around.

GM: Scooter, you’re awake.
Hero Shrew: Gimme a minute, I’m looking around for the asteroid that hit me.

Scooter goes full HULK SMASH on the suit, and after that rounding up the rest of the bad guys is short work. As well as all their other rather advanced technology, which includes subdermal radios and colour-change armour, the mooks have guns with mental controls.

Hardlight: Shoot. SHOOT. Hmm, maybe I’m not thinking hard enough.
The Magus OoC: If I remember the EGO of the rest of this party, then yeah, not thinking hard enough is definitely the problem
Hero Shrew: Huh. Were the lights supposed to come on?
Hardlight: WHAT???
Hero Shrew: The lights on this gun. Look, they’ve all come on. *waves it around*
The Magus: Hmm. Well, many Moreaus are at least passively psychic, although I don’t believe that’s common knowledge.
Hardlight: PUT THAT DOWN
The Magus: Huh, it must simply take a powerful enough mind to activate it.
Flux: That’s just mean.

We might not find where the drug pipeline actually starts, but we’ve shut down the literal pipeline at least. Although the clinic we were investigating has been cleaned out by the time we get back there.

The Magus OoC: He wants to spend a point to put a trailer on the Quadraphibious Qruiser.
Flux: It’d make a good accessory.
GM: … He wants to turn the Qruiser into an articulated truck.
Hardlight: I’m gonna make some scans of the MechaGodzilla so The Rep can make action figures.
GM: Did you negotiate likeness rights?
Hardlight: err…
Flux: ‘We have made a legally distinct villain who might look very similar but is actually legally distinct.’

Of course, as the Magus points out, the psi-boosting drug really is a very minor problem compared to some of the other things going on in Edge City, like the Sentient Memes. Gareth Lowell agrees - one wonders if somebody threw the drug situation at us to distract us from the issue at hand!

Civilla’s player has been a bit shocked to learn that the Alazario family are actually canon in the Pathfinder setting, especially since they’ve played 3 different Alazarios across the various campaigns, and they’ve all been politically connected and cunning troublemakers. That pretty much describes the ones in the canon, too. An example of that cunning will feature in today’s episode.

Kintargo’s Ghosts spend much of the next fortnight on various schemes, including the installation of not just one printing press, but two - one upstairs printing legal stuff to cover the noise of the one printing all the libel underground. Not cheap, especially given the cost of cleaning out that cesspit and erasing the summoning sigils, and paying the workers for absolute discretion. We also plant the rumour that Thrune’s bodyguard Nox was seen fleeing the city, instead of occupying a number of unmarked graves under the Phantasmagorium. All but one of her team of Redactors are also thus interred. Just goes to show that good leaders lead by example.

We do hear rumours coming the other way, however, including whispers that more children are going missing, including twins from the Iudeimus tenement; that Captain Cassius Sargaeta of the Chellish warship Scourge of Belial is no fan of the current regime; and that the temporary jail currently occupied by many of Thrune’s enemies is also the residence of something far from human. Thrune has also massively increased the toll to cross the bridge between the north and south parts of the city, effectively cutting off the rich side of town from the poorer - and greatly inconveniencing the market stalls that operate on the bridge.

He’s also announced a Ninth Proclamation - that the Hellknight Order of the Torrent are now declared outlaws, all their properties seized, and that citizens are commanded to hand over any may have escaped the authorities. That might be because the Order of the Torrent really don’t like slavery, despite slavery being legal in Chelliax. Or he just wants to install a more loyal order of Hellknights in their place, such as the Order of the Rack.

Laria, a veteran of the Kintargo Coffee Wars, wants to know if we can help one of her rivals, at the Tooth and Nail. Given the fact that Setrona Sabinus is a cousin of the Torrent’s erstwhile leader the Lictor Octavio, we can take an educated guess about what kind of assistance she needs. Unless it’s a ploy to get all the people that might sympathize with the Hellknights in one place.

Setrona Sabinus: Thank you for coming - it’s been a bit of a week.
Rajira: I can imagine.

Apparently a fair number of the Hellknights were outside the city when Thrune tried to break them, and Setrona is confident that a man of Octavio’s code of honour will side with the rebellion given the chance, even if he disagrees with our methods. She even has an idea where he might be hiding - a small shrine in a swamp outside the city. Thankfully not too far - if we all vanish for a few days, people will notice. As it stands we should all leave Kintargo separately, and meet up outside. Suitable outfits might help, too - Civilla, for example, will be unrecognizable if she just wears an outfit that doesn’t cost a handful of gold. Rajira has a variety of outfits - for ‘entertaining’ - but not all of them are suitable for slogging across rough country even if they are made of leather.

https://pbs.twimg.com/media/FHlW2kBVIAg1ALh.png 

Civilla's player: It’s amazing how many people keep Link in the Gerudo Armour even after they leave that part of the game. On the other hand the unofficial name for Breath of the Wild is “Everybody Is Thirsty For Link”

Civilla's player: It still s***s me that Australians call the smallest things lakes or rivers.
Terzo's player: Well we have so few of them.
Civilla's player: ‘Welcome to Southern River’ ‘ What river? You mean this creek? That I can step over?’

The shrine is on the other side of a tidal stream that counts as flowing enough to frustrate many divination spells. Setrona has tagged along - it might help or may not. Her having the family signet ring certainly does.

Shrine Guardian: Who goes there!
Rajira: Friends! Seeking a friend.
Shrine Guardian: You already seem to have some.
Rajira: A particular friend who is … less than welcome in the city these days.

Shrine Guardian: The one you seek has been granted asylum below. If you wish to talk to him, you must prove worthy to pass the shrine of Saint Senex. Good luck, friends.

The shrine is filled with fog, which is a bit much given it’s dedicated to those that died at sea. The fact that the Saint expects us to perform artificial respiration on the statue of a drowned sailor is perhaps more understandable.

Lictor Octavio Sabinus is downstairs in a room with the magically preserved bodies of the drowned.

Rajira OoC: Camping with the dead? That’s usually a very bad idea.

Civilla: Yeah, he’s Chellish alright - look at that dour expression.
Rajira: And the widow’s peak and slightly pointed ears.
Civilla: Hey, the blood of the High Men is spread quite widely around the Inner Sea.

Lictor Octavius: Ah - the Ghosts of Kintargo.
Rajira: Our reputation precedes us.
GM: Let's face it, you’re not the Silver Ravens anymore.
Civilla: I plan on playing out the whole 'ghosts of Kintargo' thing to be the ghosts of the original Silver Ravens. The spirits of the vengeful dead come back to battle a great injustice.
Rajira OoC: Are you sure you’re not playing a bard?
Civilla OoC: I’m going to get Terzo to pretty it up, I’m just writing the basic outline.

Lictor Octavius: You are certainly hopeful idealists, but in my experience, passionate revolutionaries lack discipline. Like my cousin, you have good hearts, but it takes more than heart to stand up for what’s right. If I’m to throw in with the Silver Ravens, I need two things. First, I need to know that my surviving armigers are safe. Second, I need to know that the Silver Ravens are more than thugs who seek to fight in the streets—I need to know you can exercise subtlety and work at least partially within the bounds of the law to solve problems when such an option exists. As it so happens, this is a perfect chance for you to accomplish both goals.
Civilla OoC: This module really assumes we’re playing murder-hoboes, doesn’t it.

Civilla: If diplomacy doesn’t work there’s always having them chase non-existent shadows outside the city. Just providing options.

There’s also the thing his order was investigating when the Ninth Proclamation was released.

Lictor Octavius: We were investigating rumors that Lord-Mayor Bainilus didn’t actually flee the city for Arcadia as the government claims. I believe she’s been imprisoned—or worse—by Barzillai Thrune. It didn’t help that I took offense, quite publicly, at our new lord-mayor’s recruitment of the Order of the Rack as additional guards. The man spins webs like a spider, though I can’t decipher his design yet. Whatever his reason, I’ve come to believe it bodes ill for all of Kintargo.

The outlawed hellknight is concerned about repercussions to the citizenry if we do get his fellows out of prison. Terzo is very pleased about this, and shakes the man’s hand with both of his.

Terzo: Then I am very pleased to meet you, good sir! There is hope for the country yet! *hugs him firmly*
GM: He seems a bit taken aback.
Terzo's player: I don’t doubt it, but I’m quite sincere - if even one order of Hellknights has recognised that there’s a problem in Cheliax, it’s a good sign.
Rajira's player: ProblemS.

But then Terzo still hasn’t realised he’s the only Good member of the party, despite all the murderising, poisoning, and dismemberment going on in his vicinity. Denial is not just a river in Osirion.

The fugitive Hellknight also provides us with his mother’s mithril shortsword, which should convince the other members of the Torrent that we’re allies, and might be useful against the rumored demonic entity in the jail. At least we can still carry swords in public - Thrune hasn’t banned anything longer than a dagger yet.

Civilla does come up with one plan straight away - fake prisoner transfer papers. We perhaps shouldn’t be surprised she has a Masterworked Forger’s Kit and Esquire Attache Case. Alternatively we can blackmail the person in charge of the jail to send real transfer papers. Or better yet, forge an order that looks like it was forged by Nox. Civilla’s cousin might be able to help with that - he was one of her Redactors after all.

The warden of the Holding House is one Sabo the Spider, an Inquisitor of Asmodeus. It’s rumoured that she’s killed multiple lovers.

Terzo: I’m surprised she isn’t called Sabo the Black Widow.

We do come up with another name associated with the Holding House - one Ghenemahl, who is the only other permanent inhabitant of the Holding House, and one that even Sabo is scared of. Civilla casts Ears of the city, to determine 1) Who is Ghenemahl? - a Devil of considerable power and sadism; 2) Where are the prisoners being transferred to? - the Temple of Asmodeus, since they’ve been sentenced to be the first public Excruciations sanctioned by Thrune 3) Who else is a prisoner there? - four unlucky curfew breakers and halflings

There’s no way we’re going to leave those other innocents in the prison, so we have to get them out too. Civilla also considers planting a subtle compulsion on Sabo.

Terzo: So ‘clear out the prison, you have a lot more prisoners coming in?’
Civilla: ‘I’m sick of all the screaming, I want them out gone, out of my prison - the sanctimonious pr***s.’

Rajira suggests we disguise ourselves as Hellknights of the Order of the Rack - although whoever leads the group will have to carry the mithril sword so the armigers of the Torrent don’t kick up too much of a fuss when we drag them out. We’ll need to find out who does their laundry, even if Terzo and Rajira turn their theater skills to the rest of the costumery.

Rajira: And then I’m going to pull the old Purloined Letter trick, and go on a little nighttime excursion. Break into the laundry, replace the real uniforms with cloth, and start a fire.

GM: I must say I’m pleased to see you’re turning what could have been some simple dice-rolls into a whole investigation.
Terzo's player: Look at the way we played Shadowrun.

Will will need to copy the Lictor of the Rack’s handwriting and signature too.

Rajira: Time to go dumpster diving.

Although she’ll probably have to break into the Temple of Asmodeus to find some.

Civilla OoC: This is why you burn sensitive documents, people - otherwise, if they have enough pieces intact, one cantrip later you have the whole thing.

Civilla: I hope you don’t think badly of me that I have all these materials for forgery.
Terzo: I'm just glad all those calligraphy lessons I gave you helped.

Terzo leads the group of fake Hellknights of the Rack to the prison - as Civilla points out, he has the build of an officer that’s let himself go.

Civilla OoC: One of nature’s sergeants.

We also bring a cart to carry the prisoners.

Civilla OoC: I can’t believe we’re pulling one of Moist von Lipwig’s heists from the second book. I know you accuse me of having read the module, but I‘ve just read a lot of Pratchett.

Even Inquisitor Sabo would have difficulty recognising the forgeries, although she does look up when Terzo pauses at one question.

Sabo: And who are you representing?
Terzo: …
Sabo: *looks up suspiciously* A bit of a pause there?
Terzo: *gestures to the uniforms* The Order of the Rack - I would have thought it was obvious.
Sabo: Apparently. These days it’s hard to tell who’s who. *suddenly pointing at Ayva* You! How long have you been worshipping Asmodeus?
Terzo OoC: You could just tell the truth ‘Since before I joined the Hellknights’
Ayva: I’ve worshiped my God for about 50 years, ma’am.

Which is true-ish - she’s certainly been worshiping HER god that long.

Unfortunately, not all the prisoners are in their cages.

Gaoler: Uh, I’m afraid this prisoner isn’t available, ma’am.
Sabo: What? Where is she?
Gaoler: Ah, Ghenemahl has her, in the Interrogation room.
Sabo: Ah. Oh. Well, let’s go fetch her. You, get the rest of the prisoners ready.

Civilla OoC: And now Terzo has to lie to a devil of Law.
Terzo OoC: Believe me, I am keenly aware.

The armiger is bound to a rack, and has been gruesomely mutilated.

Ghenemahl: And who are you? Covered in lies, I can smell them on you. Do you wish me to remove them? You will just have to wait - I have this one to minister to.
Terzo: Hardly. We’re here to transfer the prisoners to the temple.
Ghenemahl: Come to ruin my fun, have you?
Terzo: I’m sure you’ll have more prisoners soon.
Rajira OoC: Probably Sabo, if this works
Ghenemahl: Well, show me the orders.
Terzo: *gestures to Sabo to hand them across*
Ghenemahl: The signature is misaligned on this one.
Terzo: *starts sweating bullets*
Ghenemahl: But they pass.

Civilla: *writes them a receipt for the manacles* Sign here please
Sabo: *signs*
Civilla OoC: And now I have a copy of her signature.
Ayva OoC: And we nonchalantly run away at top speed.
Rajira OoC: No we don’t - we drive the cart off in the direction of the Temple, THEN head off into an alleyway.
Civilla OoC: And get the Armigers into the fake uniforms so they can get out of the city. ‘Lictor Octavius says hello’

We were very lucky - the Bluff and forgery checks we needed to pass were in the 30s - and we only passed them by 1. But now we have the Hellknights of the Order of the Torrent as allies and advisors.