Drhoz

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. 
 
 

Have been thinking about this one a bit more - if you're wondering what kind of plots you can have in a theme park, consider Niven and Barne's Dream Park novels, Spider Robinson's The Free Lunch, the SHOCC park in Pat Mills and Kevin O'Neill's Marshal Law : Fear and Loathing, the current Adventure Zone campaign Steeple Chase, etc. Also every conspiracy about Disney, visiting collections of valuable superhero memorabilia, custody snatches, supervillians looking to collect low-level supers as unwilling minions, supervillians who are just in the park for a nice day out, Mob involvement in the contracting, every possible level of corporate incompetence and malfeasance, union-busting, ride disasters (look up the Luna Park fire here in Australia for a spectacularly awful one ), corporate espionage, Halloween special scares, and the rather odd fact that the rate of superpower manifestation among people that have visited the unnamed park is 80 times higher than in the rest of the population. And despite what you may have heard, the founder's frozen head is absolutely not under the fairytale castle. 
 
 
 

A necromancer with a hate for a certain fast food franchise decided to "Frankenstein" a few zombie bulls to show how evil a certain burger clown is.

Clearly Foxbat wanted to supply his own Burger Franchise
 
 

Also, it turns out that The Devil’s Simulare manuscript  was uncatalogued, and if they hadn't asked the librarians at the Biblioteca Marciana to hunt it down for them, they probably could have smuggled it out of the library with no-one being any the wiser. On the other hand, our investigators see no reason to steal the document. 
 
Florence Braxton-Hicks: It’s not as though books can hurt anybody.
GM: I'm sure the Russian royal family would say otherwise, at least as far as Das Kapital

When asking a friendly pharmacist for his recommendations regarding Venetian food-
 
"Tourist food or real food?"
 
The little out-of-the-way venue does indeed supply mouth-watering real food in generous quantities. Flo will of course spoil things by recommending it in her articles back home. 

Also, it turns out that The Devil’s Simulare manuscript  was uncatalogued, and if they hadn't asked the librarians at the Biblioteca Marciana to hunt it down for them, they probably could have smuggled it out of the library with no-one being any the wiser. On the other hand, our investigators see no reason to steal the document. 
 
Florence Braxton-Hicks: It’s not as though books can hurt anybody.
GM: I'm sure the Russian royal family would say otherwise, at least as far as Das Kapital

When asking a friendly pharmacist for his recommendations regarding Venetian food-
 
"Tourist food or real food?"
 
The little out-of-the-way venue does indeed supply mouth-watering real food in generous quantities. Flo will of course spoil things by recommending it in her articles back home. 

1d6 Blast, Expendable Focus (very difficult to recover; 1 Galactus)  😜

The Nicholas Brothers, Fayard and Harold. Two of the greatest dancers who ever lived, as well as trained acrobats. Daredevil has nothing on these two when it comes to agility. In their later years they taught dance to Michael and Janet Jackson.
 
This incredible dance number is from the 1943 movie, Stormy Weather. The actual dance sequence starts at 1:43, but if you jump ahead you'll miss the performance by the legendary Cab Calloway and his band.
 
 

Rorie Susan Woods.  Unleashed several hives of bees on deputies serving an eviction.  Seen in costume.  
 
https://www.wcvb.com/article/bees-unleashed-in-attack-on-deputies-hampden-county-massachusetts-sheriff-says/41712098

And Brian Blessed.     My God....just using them as the basis for agents for a British MI-13 team during the ‘60’s & ‘70’s.  The book practically writes itself!
    For Bruce Lee in a comic book, check out the 1970’s editions of Shang Chi Master of Kung Fu drawn by Christopher Golden or Doug Monch
    For Harry Houdini in a comic book try Gotham by Gaslight.  An Elseworlds series set in Victorian era Gotham with Batman chasing Jack the Ripper.

HORROR ON THE ORIENT EXPRESS - Venice - Love (and Death) in a Gondola Pt.3
 
Feb 1923
 
In Which The Investigators Dig Themselves Deeper Into A Hole
 
   The Investigators are certainly seeing a lot of Venice while they’re in town, if by ‘a lot’ you mean the inside of the city’s libraries and archives, and the inside of the San Marco Basilica during a heist that nearly gets them arrested as Communist Arms Smugglers. Smugglers that they, in fact, invented. 
 
  This probably requires some explanation.  
 
  Having already assisted local communist Georgio Gasparetti’s attempts to get into the pants of Maria Stagliani (hopefully he’ll wait till they’re actually married), Huxley and company have finally returned their attention to the search for the pieces of the Sedefkar Simulacrum. Delving deeply into the archives turns up the official reports and diaries of the French officers during Napoleon’s occupation of the city, and The Devil’s Simulare, an illuminated manuscript about certain events in Constantinople during its looting by the Fourth Crusade. Hopefully it’s not entirely historical, because among other things it includes knights fighting a dragon. But they can read it all properly later, because the reports and diary reveal the hiding place of the Simulacrum’s Leg!
 
Inside one of the richest and well-guarded churches in Christendom.
 
This presents a few problems, and that’s not even counting the giant fish with human arms that have been seen in the canals. 
 
Huxley: Could be a surviving amphibian from the Devonian.
GM: Given the increasingly noxious state of the canals, they probably won’t be surviving for long.
 
The water is certainly getting pretty bad - black as the breast of a raven - and increasingly excited rumors claim that it’s certain death to touch it. 
 
The Left Leg was apparently buried under the floor of the Chapel of St Isidore - not the St Isidore of Seville who invented the comma, but the Isidore of Chios who got torn apart by horses. It's the latter who got interred at St Mark's, presumably not in one piece. And the investigators will be lucky if they remain in one piece if they get caught vandalizing the church. Maybe they should just tell the church authorities they had an evil artifact under the pavers and they should just be glad it’s being taken off their hands?
 
GM: It's easier to beg forgiveness than ask permission.
 
Antonio Masiero, the Italian airman who did most of the legwork for them in Venice, has a suggestion - i.e. get the fascists to do it, by telling them that communist arms smugglers were using the chapel as a letter drop, then intercept them and get the leg off them afterwards with the help of the local communists.

It’s certainly a … bold… plan.
 
Antonio: A shipment of arms
Florence: Heheh
Antonio: OK, or a shipment of legs
 
So all they have to do is convince Gasparetti to use his contacts among the local unionists and left-leaning students to pass on information to the blackshirts. He’s a bit reluctant, at first. Among other other things the fascists will crack down even harder on the local communists if they dig up the chapel to find the letter drop or not, but he does get more enthusiastic about it when it’s framed as an excuse to string up the blackshirts for vandalizing the Basilica. 
 
Gasparetti: This could be the start of the OVERTHROW OF MUSSOLINI! *slaps his hand over his mouth when he realises he just said that aloud in a cafe*
Florence: Geniuses, lower your voices -You keep out of trouble, and you double your choices. I'm with you, but the situation is fraught. You've got to be carefully taught: If you talk, you're gonna get shot!
 
Fortunately, it was already a fairly left-wing cafe, although people are now paying a LOT of attention to the investigators.
 
They decide to pass on the false information that the communist arms smugglers will be leaving instructions under the flagstone in the chapel after the last mass of the day, and Gasparetti and his friends will be waiting out in the plaza to raise hell the moment the Fascists start tearing up the flagstones. Huxley, Florence and Antonio will be lurking among the congregation to see how it plays out. 
 
Of course, it doesn’t go according to plan, because in hindsight it was never going to. The blackshirts naturally planted a few plainsclothed officers among the congregation, all watching closely for these imaginary arms smugglers. Which left Huxley and Antonio to try and hide in the Basilica as the crowd streamed out, and the officers explain to the priests why they’re there.
 
Priest: Communists?! In MY Church!
GM: It’s more likely than you think. 
 
And of course the blackshirts spot Huxley hiding - they were expecting somebody to linger in the church after mass, after all. He legs it, closely pursued by the fascists, to the consternation of Florence, Gasparetti and his friends. At least that gives Antonio a chance to pry up the flagstone with a votive candlestick, while everybody is busy.
 
There’s no Leg. 
 
There is, instead, a letter in a sealed envelope. Antonio grabs it and talks his way out past the priests - after giving the address to his hotel, his actual name, a promise of numerous Hail Marys and a large donation. Huxley manages to lose himself in the crowd of churchgoers - he certainly seems to be becoming quite an accomplished sprinter, at least in the vicinity of Italian landmarks. The investigators meet up at the flat, where Gasparetti tries to wrap his head around the fact that there actually WAS a letter under the flagstone. At least he can identify the seal of the letter - the Gremancis, once Princes of Venice, now famous dollmakers and providers of prosthetic limbs to the veterans of the Great War. 
 
The name is not entirely a surprise - the investigators had been told by Professor Smith that reputed sorcerer Alvise de Gremanci was somehow involved with the Simulacrum, and one Alvise de Gremanci was recorded as one of the ringleaders of the riots that took place when the Leg was first brought to the city, and all quietly released after the French officer discovered they were absolutely right to be protesting. Antonio had been asking every branch of the family if they knew anything about an evil leg. Apparently none did - perhaps the letter will reveal the truth?
 

HORROR ON THE ORIENT EXPRESS - Venice - Love (and Death) in a Gondola Pt.3
 
Feb 1923
 
In Which The Investigators Dig Themselves Deeper Into A Hole
 
   The Investigators are certainly seeing a lot of Venice while they’re in town, if by ‘a lot’ you mean the inside of the city’s libraries and archives, and the inside of the San Marco Basilica during a heist that nearly gets them arrested as Communist Arms Smugglers. Smugglers that they, in fact, invented. 
 
  This probably requires some explanation.  
 
  Having already assisted local communist Georgio Gasparetti’s attempts to get into the pants of Maria Stagliani (hopefully he’ll wait till they’re actually married), Huxley and company have finally returned their attention to the search for the pieces of the Sedefkar Simulacrum. Delving deeply into the archives turns up the official reports and diaries of the French officers during Napoleon’s occupation of the city, and The Devil’s Simulare, an illuminated manuscript about certain events in Constantinople during its looting by the Fourth Crusade. Hopefully it’s not entirely historical, because among other things it includes knights fighting a dragon. But they can read it all properly later, because the reports and diary reveal the hiding place of the Simulacrum’s Leg!
 
Inside one of the richest and well-guarded churches in Christendom.
 
This presents a few problems, and that’s not even counting the giant fish with human arms that have been seen in the canals. 
 
Huxley: Could be a surviving amphibian from the Devonian.
GM: Given the increasingly noxious state of the canals, they probably won’t be surviving for long.
 
The water is certainly getting pretty bad - black as the breast of a raven - and increasingly excited rumors claim that it’s certain death to touch it. 
 
The Left Leg was apparently buried under the floor of the Chapel of St Isidore - not the St Isidore of Seville who invented the comma, but the Isidore of Chios who got torn apart by horses. It's the latter who got interred at St Mark's, presumably not in one piece. And the investigators will be lucky if they remain in one piece if they get caught vandalizing the church. Maybe they should just tell the church authorities they had an evil artifact under the pavers and they should just be glad it’s being taken off their hands?
 
GM: It's easier to beg forgiveness than ask permission.
 
Antonio Masiero, the Italian airman who did most of the legwork for them in Venice, has a suggestion - i.e. get the fascists to do it, by telling them that communist arms smugglers were using the chapel as a letter drop, then intercept them and get the leg off them afterwards with the help of the local communists.

It’s certainly a … bold… plan.
 
Antonio: A shipment of arms
Florence: Heheh
Antonio: OK, or a shipment of legs
 
So all they have to do is convince Gasparetti to use his contacts among the local unionists and left-leaning students to pass on information to the blackshirts. He’s a bit reluctant, at first. Among other other things the fascists will crack down even harder on the local communists if they dig up the chapel to find the letter drop or not, but he does get more enthusiastic about it when it’s framed as an excuse to string up the blackshirts for vandalizing the Basilica. 
 
Gasparetti: This could be the start of the OVERTHROW OF MUSSOLINI! *slaps his hand over his mouth when he realises he just said that aloud in a cafe*
Florence: Geniuses, lower your voices -You keep out of trouble, and you double your choices. I'm with you, but the situation is fraught. You've got to be carefully taught: If you talk, you're gonna get shot!
 
Fortunately, it was already a fairly left-wing cafe, although people are now paying a LOT of attention to the investigators.
 
They decide to pass on the false information that the communist arms smugglers will be leaving instructions under the flagstone in the chapel after the last mass of the day, and Gasparetti and his friends will be waiting out in the plaza to raise hell the moment the Fascists start tearing up the flagstones. Huxley, Florence and Antonio will be lurking among the congregation to see how it plays out. 
 
Of course, it doesn’t go according to plan, because in hindsight it was never going to. The blackshirts naturally planted a few plainsclothed officers among the congregation, all watching closely for these imaginary arms smugglers. Which left Huxley and Antonio to try and hide in the Basilica as the crowd streamed out, and the officers explain to the priests why they’re there.
 
Priest: Communists?! In MY Church!
GM: It’s more likely than you think. 
 
And of course the blackshirts spot Huxley hiding - they were expecting somebody to linger in the church after mass, after all. He legs it, closely pursued by the fascists, to the consternation of Florence, Gasparetti and his friends. At least that gives Antonio a chance to pry up the flagstone with a votive candlestick, while everybody is busy.
 
There’s no Leg. 
 
There is, instead, a letter in a sealed envelope. Antonio grabs it and talks his way out past the priests - after giving the address to his hotel, his actual name, a promise of numerous Hail Marys and a large donation. Huxley manages to lose himself in the crowd of churchgoers - he certainly seems to be becoming quite an accomplished sprinter, at least in the vicinity of Italian landmarks. The investigators meet up at the flat, where Gasparetti tries to wrap his head around the fact that there actually WAS a letter under the flagstone. At least he can identify the seal of the letter - the Gremancis, once Princes of Venice, now famous dollmakers and providers of prosthetic limbs to the veterans of the Great War. 
 
The name is not entirely a surprise - the investigators had been told by Professor Smith that reputed sorcerer Alvise de Gremanci was somehow involved with the Simulacrum, and one Alvise de Gremanci was recorded as one of the ringleaders of the riots that took place when the Leg was first brought to the city, and all quietly released after the French officer discovered they were absolutely right to be protesting. Antonio had been asking every branch of the family if they knew anything about an evil leg. Apparently none did - perhaps the letter will reveal the truth?
 

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!

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.

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.

Shev: I finally find a Rat I’m not related to and she tells me to f*** off????
 
Gonno’s carpentry over the next 11 months goes poorly, Miya is lucky in business and Arram loses a family member. Romilda gets an unexpected boon and Skave suffers a blow to his reputation in town. 
 
Skave: ONE guy has a bad trip and runs through town naked screaming about being chased by invisible ghosts, and everyone hates you for months, honestly…
 
Shev: Everytime I fire this thing it costs me 5GP.
Gonno OoC: Maybe if we ask nicely the bad guys will hold still, so you don’t waste your money. 
 
Miya has been supplementing her income by dancing at one of Selversgard’s public houses. She’s not exactly spoiled for choice - it’s the only one with a stage. Afterwards, she’s handed an envelope. 
 
Miya: Thank you young dwarf. If it’s a proposition I’m not interested. 
 
It’s an invitation to a meeting with the dwarf Gelvert, one of the most well-off people in town, who has profited mightily from the sawmill since he and four friends founded the town a century back. He even has somebody to take Miya’s cloak and get it dried and cleaned. As he tells Miya, the other founders are dead, or almost certainly so. He’s been thinking a lot about Jael Jirin, one of the founders, a gnome of whom he was very fond. 
 
Gelvert: Soul like a bright lighthouse on a darkened sea… she founded the fisherman’s guild, you know.
 
Apparently Jael hid a number of items for Gelvert to collect, if she never returned, but thinking about her likely death was so painful he’s been putting it off for decades. 
 
Gelvert: I find that as the days grow darker and the winter gathers in my bones, I fear it will not be long before I too make my way to Pharasma’s halls. 
 
He wants to pay us to retrieve them - he probably isn’t relying on our sense of civic duty to avoid paying professional adventurer rates, but rich old dwarfs don’t become rich old dwarfs by wasting money. He tells the group that the collapsed old ruin we explored last year is far from the only such in the forest - they’re all through it, and for that matter most of the continent. Jael kept one as a private lair, some 20 miles SE of Selversgard, and kept various important documents in a strongbox there - Gelvert has the key, and warns us about some of the pit traps we’ll have to avoid. We’ll have to bring a ladder, and probably some raincoats.
 
Gelvert: I regret sending you out in this weather, but I doubt I’ll still be here come spring. 
 
Gonno wonders if any of his neighbors have a folding ladder he can borrow.
 
Shev: Buy one you cheap bastard, they’re only 2GP. 
 
Portable bridges are probably also a good idea - getting a donkey across a ladder seems difficult - although Shev loudly complains that the thing must be made from Darkwood given the cost and weight. Not that Shev needs the bridge, although he’s still the only one with a giant riding rat, Vokk.
 
Shev: I’ve only been here two years, it takes a while to breed the musclerats. 
Miya: I am going to have to do so much negotiation in a few years… ‘no, it didn’t bite your children, and it hasn’t eaten your dog’.
Shev: To be fair, how big is the dog?
 
Nobody’s figured out that Miya and her pet fox are the same entity yet.
 
Townsfolk 1: That pet fox is weird. 
Townsfolk 2: It’s probably a f***ing familiar or something, don’t worry about it. 
 
Unfortunately, by the first afternoon the weather goes from wet to appalling - trying to navigate across trackless forest is hard enough in good weather, and it’s all too easy to miss the giant spider trapdoors when the rain is blowing up your nose. Gonno’s solution is practical - roll a big log over the trapdoor when the spider retreats. 
We make camp. Nothing disturbs us during the night.
 
Gonno OoC: I suspect I’m mostly relying on the fact that only a lunatic would be wandering around in this weather.
Shev: HELLO.
Gonno OoC: But we’re not wandering around.
Arram: But we’re still out here in this weather.
 
The weather continues so awful that it’s hard to tell possible stone towers apart from big rocks. We go to approach one, when a voice pipes up from the undergrowth.
 
Voice: I wouldn't go down there if I was you. 
 
It’s a tiny creature with a humanoid front half and shining silver hair, and the back half of a cricket. 
 
Shev: Why would you not go down there?
The Grig: Because that is the domain of a wolfwere.
 
The Grig: A terrible story - a wolf cursed to live as a man, under the full moon. 
 
Skave is suspicious - for one thing it’s not full moon -  and thinks the Grig is trying to fool us.
 
Skave: I’m pretty sure we can go on.
Shev: Why’s that?
Arram: Love of violence.
Skave: I just don’t trust it.
Shev: You barely trust anyone outside the warren - be more specific
The Grig: Doesn’t trust me. Doesn’t trust me. *flies off in a huff* 
Shev: Now look what you’ve done, our supplies are going to get scattered all over the place the next time we camp.
Gonno: *gives Skave a ‘I’m not angry, just disappointed’ look, sighs and packs up the rations he was going to thank the Grig with - even if it WAS trying to fool us, rewarding the the Fae for small pranks is still a good idea as long as the pranks remain harmless*
Shev OoC: And it stops them from escalating. 
 
We go ahead into the suspiciously circular depression anyway - the tower is actually a huge monolith.
 
Gonno: *examines the monolith from various angles, mentally calculating the size of the crater, closely examining the lichen on the stone, and giving the rock a cautious sniff* Thassilonian.
Shev: Rune-cannon shot. Rune this, rune that. What happened to good old fashioned glyphs, I ask you?
GM: Certainly runed this area.
 
A bit later on we find a sign nailed to a tree, pointing to a strongbox. It contains a meat pie and a blueberry cupcake, as Skave’s alchemy confirms. This is OBVIOUSLY Fae food.
 
Shev: DON’T EAT IT.
Miya: I’m not going to - it was going to stay in the strongbox for now.
Shev: You leave it right where you found it!
The Grig: Oh, but then the pie will get cold!
 
Shev and Gonno are far too knowledgeable about the rules for dealing with Fae - i.e. Don’t. - to fall for the Grig’s protestations of innocence, even if it was innocent.
 
Miya: Hang on, you had it made up for us? Where???
The Grig: Oh, I’m not going to tell you THAT.
 
The Grig doesn’t trash our camp overnight, but our paranoia leaves us unrested nonetheless. The next day brings us to an old stone building - with a newer steel portcullis. News in ‘probably added in the last century’. A bit of elbow grease gets it open, although Gonno does manhandle the block we were using as a fulcrum underneath the portcullis just in case. 
Perhaps Gonno should stick up the front of the party - he won’t distract our trailblazer Shev with any unnecessary chatter.
 
Shev: That’s why I have Vokk. To avoid any unnecessary chatter. I dare you to name a more trustworthy companion.
Miya: A rock. 
Shev: Nonono, They’re constantly stealing your elephants.
Miya: … What? That’s a reference to something isn’t it… Oh. That went straight over my head, like the elephants, who are very distressed about it so don’t be there.
 
It’s the giant riding rat Vokk that spots the first warning - a big, helpful PIT! sign with an arrow, with delimited paths and trap bounds. It doesn’t seem to be in the same handwriting as the Grig’s sign earlier. Further on there’s a room with all mod cons - glowing crystals in the walls, comfy bed, a cage, a skeleton, and a corpse slumped over the table. The skeleton is a person, holding a spear and standing straight upright. Gonno wants to look around for a keyhole. The key we were given was supposed to disable some of the defenses and he doesn’t like the look of that skeleton, but Shev is more interested in looting those crystals and Arram lobs a rock at the undead. The corpse is a human or maybe an elf, and was using the room to flay and prepare corpses. The wannabe necromancer apparently retired here to perfect his art and take over the world. 
 
Arram: The Twilight Academy is a week’s travel away, you nutter, you should have just gone there. 
 
The corpse-botherer even managed to animate a single skeleton, but then, at a loss about what to actually do with it, ordered it to guard the cage. Arram toasts the skeleton, which never even twitches from its assigned duty - a sad end for the late Necromancer’s ‘Great Work’.
 
Shev: An appropriate end.
 
The Necromancer has four puncture wounds in his chest, but not caused by anything in the room. The loon never explored past this room, according to his journal, since he didn’t like all the traps. If one of the traps is responsible for his injuries, we can hardly blame him. At least his spellbook didn’t get too icky. Unfortunately, we’re not so scared of traps, and thus discover what killed the necromancer - giant mosquitoes. 
 
Skave: *Missing yet another crossbow shot* I’m terrible with this thing!
GM: Yes, you should be throwing bombs.
Skave: I get yelled at when I throw bombs!
Shev: For good reason!!!!
 
GM: You have avoided catching the disease carried by these Stirges.
Gonno OoC: That notwithstanding, I should probably avoid squeezing it like a piping bag to get my blood back. 

 


 

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!

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.

Have been thinking about this one a bit more - if you're wondering what kind of plots you can have in a theme park, consider Niven and Barne's Dream Park novels, Spider Robinson's The Free Lunch, the SHOCC park in Pat Mills and Kevin O'Neill's Marshal Law : Fear and Loathing, the current Adventure Zone campaign Steeple Chase, etc. Also every conspiracy about Disney, visiting collections of valuable superhero memorabilia, custody snatches, supervillians looking to collect low-level supers as unwilling minions, supervillians who are just in the park for a nice day out, Mob involvement in the contracting, every possible level of corporate incompetence and malfeasance, union-busting, ride disasters (look up the Luna Park fire here in Australia for a spectacularly awful one ), corporate espionage, Halloween special scares, and the rather odd fact that the rate of superpower manifestation among people that have visited the unnamed park is 80 times higher than in the rest of the population. And despite what you may have heard, the founder's frozen head is absolutely not under the fairytale castle. 
 
 
 

Re: Calling all lawyers--Supers and unique legal issues
 
Disclaimer: Not my strong suit but just a fun mythology tidbit.
 
Well you have the Courts of hell and the 10 Kings of Yama who preside over them. Each King presides over a different kind of sin, such as adultery or murder and the courts are filled with suitable punishments. I don't think there is a trial process is this system but who says you can't have one and since it's litigating an infernal contract perhapses all 10 Kings must preside over the hearing.
 
Diyu

Hypothetical:
NeoMephisto, a resident of another dimension that we shall hereafter refer to as "Inferno", enters into a written contract with a certain Enrico "Little Caesar" Banducci, citizen of Victory City, USA, wherein party A(NeoMephisto) provides certain goods and services to party B(Banducci) in exchange for 1)regular cash payments, 2) use of discreet "office facilities", and 3) occasional human services barter. In the event of the expiration of said contract term(after a period of 20 years or Party B's untimely demise) or a material breach, party B is required to pay, in consideration/damages, their "immortal soul".
 
In the event of such a breach, what court venue is proper for subsequent suit? Is said "immortal soul" actual or nominal consideration? If NeoMephisto breaches and Banducci sues, what manner of service is necessary in order to meet the requirements of due process? If Banducci breaches and NeoMephisto sues, can the latter serve process via winged demon messenger or is a regular human process server required? What if NeoMephisto withholds essential goods and services in order to obtain better terms--is this simply hard bargaining or improper duress?
 
 
(Sorry, guys, law school is eating my brain...)

Low-level supers hired by a theme park to use their abilities in the shows. Eventually learn exactly why the founder was so interested in metahumanity. 

Low-level supers hired by a theme park to use their abilities in the shows. Eventually learn exactly why the founder was so interested in metahumanity.