Shades 001: First Impressions

I don’t have much experience in inheritin’ things, but damn I’ll bet every feather I have that I’ve received the worst inheritance possible. My guess that Zelkor’s Ferry was but a lowly bog-pile with some houses that got stuck in it was right on target, perhaps even flatterin’. It has a town necromancer, for crowin’ out loud. No healer, no apothecary, just a necromancer, and his assumedly creepy bonefuckin’ ways. There is a gemcutter at least, so at least some gold must feel obliged to flow in here on occasion.

The castle ain’t doing much better. I couldn’t even get inside because there were nasty little robed kobolds and some dribbling gnoll toadies holing up in the place. Too many for me and my firearm to take on, unfortunately. There ain't no point in being yet another dead Lord of Castle Calaelen now is there? I've decided the best way to salvage anythin’ outta this whole fiasco is to hire some aspiring adventurers to help clean the angry shitkickers out, using the Great Downward as a face. Perhaps the old gal’s name still carries some weight around these parts, and can get some shit done for a bird.

Shades 000: In Which a Bird Gets Bent

So apparently I’m the proud owner of some old castle out in the middle o’ mudfuckin’ nowhere, and the new Lord of whatever civilization is still attached to it in deed only. Well, ain’t that a riot. It certainly ain’t everyday a bird finds himself at the receivin’ end o’ some past adventurer’s rottin’ fortunes, rather than begging or pluckin’ ‘em from their fat pockets. It has to be some kind of record.

The gentleman responsible for handing the deed over, some quill-pusher by the name of Bent, was a lot less surprised by the whole affair than I was. Turns out he’d been tryin’ to track me down for years. The deeds to the castle has changed hands more than a whore’s coin, he says, or some approximation. But also the goose was apparently lookin’ for someone who actually uses my name. I certainly don’t. I’m a mite concerned that he found me at all.

Anyway, my new castle lies a hour’s solid ride next to what I guess is a bog-pile town named Zelkor’s Ferry, which is technically in my Lordly domain. I ain’t never heard of it ‘til now, but that ain’t surprising. However, I have heard of the original owner of the premises. Orelinde Calaelen. The elven Goblin Queen o’ Mosswood. I guess it’d be best for her sake and mine that I at least go check the premises out, and take a peek at the town. The deed also includes a license to run a Great Downward Engineering Company, tax free, so perhaps I’ll go fishing for some potential enterprisin’ folk whilst I’m there.

Honestly I would not be surprised if I found Mr. Bent waitin’ for me in Zelkor’s Ferry tomorrow, to inform me that he made some kind o’ mistake. But then again, no one gives nothin’ to a tengu unless they absolutely have to, so maybe I just gotta suck it up and be a Lord.

Lizards and Laws (Siurlang)

Kobolds. Really, I would have expected the bird to be better at picking out lizards and disembowelling them on rocks by herself, but if she needs my help, all the better. There were no problems for my arcane might, barring the appearance of some undead. Bizarre, really. Kobolds tend to devious behaviour, not necromancy. Will have to look into it further, though I think that the halforc might have a deathgrip on the tome that we recovered from one of the kobolds. Some sort of priest, though not of a traditional dragon deity.

Note to self, get tome from halforc and read it. Offer trade of religious text? Pretty sure that he's some sort of divine channeller, though the dwarf is as well. There is so much overlap in this ragtag group of followers. I'll have to pay more attention to what goes on in the mundane as well. It's not entirely beneath my notice, after all.

There were some gnolls as well, which proved to be slightly more of a problem than the kobolds. Perhaps they were the reason that the bird could not handle the little lizards by herself? Regardless, I, and my followers, dealt with the hyena-folk in short order, leaving the castle open to us and completing the task.

Speaking of the castle, it is a dump. The place must have been abandoned decades ago, given the state of disarray and destruction, though no doubt the kobolds helped out there. In my professional opinion, the bird would be better off razing it to the foundations, and building a new castle in its place. One with a moat that could be filled with liquid fire of course, not a water moat. Water moats are stupid and lame.

A new castle could be made larger, as well. This ruin is little more than a wall and a slightly bigger than usual house. A larger castle could have room for an arcanist's tower, which I would grudgingly allow the other two arcanists to occupy the lower rooms of. It could also be better able to resist a siege, with the possibility of a high-arcing catapult in the courtyard. Or even on the roof of the keep?

Note to self, look into the costs of building an arcanist's tower. And the local laws. I'd hate to have a tower constructed only to find out that it exceeds some bizarre height restriction or something.

On the topic of a tower, I'd need items to put in it. That is, after all, what towers are for.

Rappan Athuk lies south. Not only should it be absolutely full of arcane paraphernalia ready for acquisition, but the rumours that I've picked up on point to it being a place worthy of being graced by my arcane might.

By which I mean fire and force.

Meetings and Moats (Siurlang)

Irori be praised, dry land! I know that there was always dry land on either side of the boat, but now I'm standing on it! The dry land, not the boat. I think I'll walk back to civilisation.

But land! And buildings! Only a few buildings. Somehow I get the idea that I will have to walk for a while to get to civilisation. I didn't really look into what all the buildings were for, to be honest. Maybe I should have, just to categorise them into 'important' and 'not important'. I think that there's a gem cutter. Which could be kind of useful, I suppose. I'm not all that big on the enchantment side of things, so I figure that I won't get too much use out of that place. The other arcanists that are hanging around might, I'm not sure what their particular strengths and weaknesses are.

Note to self, find out other arcanists' strengths and weaknesses.

Anyway, it turns out that the other people on the boat and myself were here for the same reason. Well, at first appearances. All of them are here for a task, from the curiously named tengu, Shades. Apparently the bird came into possession of a deed for an abandoned castle in the region and, of course, needed my help to clean it out. The others as well, I suppose. At least the halforc and dwarf might be useful in getting in between any foes and myself, should it be required.

Writing this during the walk to the castle, of course. No time for writing at the ridiculously overpriced inn. I believe that the castle lies ahead. Hopefully it lacks a moat, or at least water in the moat. Why would people use water to fill a moat anyway? I can think of at least five things that would work better, and not be traversable!

Entrances and Evocation (Siurlang)

Rivers.

The birthplace of nations, the arteries of commerce and the most boring method of travel to exist. How positively mundane it is, to stand on the wooden planks of an ironically named boat of all things, and watch the land drift past. One day, I will not need to travel in this terrible and dull manner, on a boat on a river.

Hydrophobia kicking in again. Get a grip, Siur, it'll be fine. Just another hour or two, then we can get off the boat and back onto hopefully dry land. I hope that the stupid thing doesn't capsize or anything. It sounds like everything is fine, but what if it isn't? All I can do is blast arcane force and fire at things, that's no use on a boat that's sinking!

Maybe I can burn the water away. No, that's stupid. The water just keeps on coming, it's called flow for a reason. So I'd have to find the source of the water, and then I can stop it and the boat will stop sinking and I'll be fine and won't have to drown.

Wait, that won't work, I'd have to get off the boat in the first place to find where the river starts. Irori help me, this is not helping! I need to think of something else to take my mind off the motion of the boat on the water, and the creaking of the boat as it floats along, and the potential for a catastrophic failure of the structural integrity of the boat and SHUT UP SIUR SERIOUSLY THIS IS NOT HELPING.

Think of something else. Something other than the boat. People. People aren't boats. Okay.

Heh, that's a cat. Seriously, a cat, dressed up like people. I think this boat is driving me mad.

Expedition 0: Calaelen Castle (Agamemnon)

This is a good party of people.  They all have confidence in what they are doing, and with good cause: they are good.  We make an effective combination.  This bodes well.

En route to the castle we spied something atop a hill in the middle distance.  Shnookums, a stout paladin of Dwerfater, has a ridiculous name, a fact I got over as soon as I saw him swing his hammer.  Warhammers are not known as weapons of grace, poise or great accuracy.  Using one to obliterate a stirge that is actively grappling your head requires a deftness of touch and the sort of control that cannot be disrespected.  His reluctance to investigate the statue atop the hill was born purely of pragmatism; similarly his holding back at the cave was simple, sensible caution.  This has not stopped me ribbing him for his 'cowardice'.  He is, after all, a dwarf, and I am, after all, a priest of Darach-Albith.  There will be banter aplenty - banter he will be able to hear very clearly as I will be standing right next to him when the fighting starts.

Amerasu, a ranger of the catfolk, was also keen to investigate the statue atop the hill.  Catfolk I have met in Elven lands were known for their curiosity rather than their caution.  As a fellow archer and a fellow worshipper of the First Elf we had an immediate rapport, and I respect her adventurous spirit.  I am sure we will have many conversations in the future.

Ami entering the cave with the dwarf and I was not a great surprise.  The three mages remaining outside was also not a great surprise - as humans they would not see well anyway, and it is not wise to wander into a dark cave when your line of sight is your only protection.  What did surprise me was the tengu joining us.  Shades is contracting our services.  She does not need to venture into danger herself, she has hired us to do that for her.  This wasn't even her castle; this was a random dank hole in the ground full of decay, stench and stirges.  I don't know if she was driven by curiosity or a love of the fight - tengu faces are not easy to read.  I do know that her boomstick is fucking loud when it goes off ten feet to your right in a small cave.

The sorcerers came into their own once we had reached the castle.  I had thought Kruin's fishing with lightning bolts back at Selkor's Ferry either an affectation, an attempt to impress or just plain frivolousness.  Nothing of the sort.  She seems to live lightning - as the kobold, gnolls and skeletons found out to their cost.  For a sorcerer she is very resilient, and seems to have a keen tactical mind.  I get the feeling she doesn't so much call forth the lightning a few times a day as keep it restrained the entire rest of the day.

Suirlang and the Changeling (I won't waste the ink committing their name to paper) made an effective pairing.  Combat is a lot more enjoyable when the odd ball of force flies from over your shoulder and smacks the gnoll you're facing clean in the eye.  For me, anyway; not so much for the gnoll.

The castle was guarded by four gnolls who were about as tough as you would expect gnolls to be, fleeing as soon as one of them went down - although I had a narrow escape myself when one of the belligerent fellows attempted to charge me off the bridge.  I'd thought his self-sacrificing charge was a sign of bravery, running at a man with a spear being a very risky maneuver, but I later downgraded this to stupidity when he ignored the dwarven warhammer swinging in at about knee-height and taking his legs clean out from under him.

The gnolls did pique our curiosity by howling up at one of the towers.  We never managed to get up there, but it apparently housed a fiendish roc, who flew off as we were finishing off the last kobold.  We will eventually have to check up there to see if we can find any explanation for what it was doing there, but that can be left for another day.  The castle is ours now, though it took some significant fighting to get to this point.  We first had to clear a group of kobold who had set up in what I presume was once the great hall.  The dwarf kept two of them pinned down in one corner while spells and ranged attacks made short work of most of the remainder.  Two of the little bastards were getting about with oversized weapons whose inertia alone was a threat, but they had no idea what they were doing with them so in the end we ended them without much trouble.  I spent most of the fight trapped in a net thrown by one of the gnoll attendants, unable to lend much assistance, though I did summon Gwerif, my celestial friend, from my prone position, who was enough of a distraction to allow Jax, the human rogue, the opportunities he needed to get in there.

Jax is an odd fellow.  He is handy with locks and knows his way around traps, he carries surprising quantities of gear for a man of such unmuscled physique, and he seems, on the surface at least, to be purely motivated by money.  At this point you would usually write him off as a self-serving thief, someone to keep around for his expertise but not to rely upon.

So why then did he roll through the swipes of three summoned undead at great personal risk in order to face off against a blighted priest of death, on his own?  This wasn't reckless abandon or an attempt to flee; it was a tactical decision that paid off, but it was one hell of a risk to him.  Out there on his own he couldn't even flank the bastard; it was just him and two daggers face to face with a mace radiating such evil that even the untrained could see it.

I'll have to keep an eye on him - and this is the first time I've ever said that about a rogue and not meant "in case he steals my stuff".  I get the feeling that creating space for him to work is going to occupy a lot of the tactical decisions the paladin and I need to make going forward.  That, and stalling long enough for the massive amounts of ranged firepower this party brings to bear to decimate our opposition.

It will be very interesting to see how many of these people are interested in entering Rappan Athuk.  I hope it is all of them because we are one hell of a team.  Although I will need a better set of armour because I am going to be spending a lot more time on the front line than I had anticipated.

The Meeting in the Inn (Agamemnon)

'Sailing' might be too grand a word to describe my arrival today, just as 'town' is somewhat overstating what Zelkor's Ferry is.  The Lucky Oak was neither: a decrepit river runner whose advantage over simply walking here wasn't its speed but the opportunity it afforded to examine the other adventurers making their way to this dismal outpost.  Although the atmosphere was so devoid of energy that we spoke barely a word to each other the whole trip down this pathetic waterway (except the rogue who did talk but said very little of consequence and got nary a response from anyone else on what I'll laughingly refer to as the 'deck'), I was right to assume that any competent traveller heading in this direction this day would not be doing so purely by chance.  We were all here to see Shades.

Disembarking at Zelkor's Ferry in the late afternoon I had intended to complete a circuit of the town to see what gossip was to be had about our soon-to-be employer and this area in general, but upon seeing the place I decided not to bother: not more than five buildings, three of which were commercial, this was less a town and more a struggling trading post.  The presence of a necromancer's was telling: Zelkor's Ferry did not even have the gravity to attract a lowly herbalist, let alone a chirurgeon or apothecary.  I made a mental note not to die out here, just in case.  One of my future compatriots - I don't remember who, but probably the rogue since he was the only one thus far inclined towards speech beyond necessary communication and dour observations - perked up at the sight of a dwarven gem cutter, seeing it as a sign of an active nearby mining interest and some sort of trade.  He may be right, but I am not so sure; it is not unknown for members of the stout folk to actively seek subsistence living as far from social engagement as possible, and Zelkor's Ferry certainly qualifies in both those respects.

The Bristleback Inn, wherein we were to find our contact, served no pork whatsoever.  I would put this down to the wit of the landlord if I thought he had any.  The man was implacable.  I would think him a golem except that noone with the fleshcrafting skills to make such a passable model would be bothered to shit on Zelkor's Ferry, let alone invest their creation here.  I do not flatter myself when I say that my presence, when directed at lesser men, causes them to quail in fear; even when called on his extortionate rates he did not so much as blink at the considerable pressure under which I put him.  If I am forced to remain here for any duration I might investigate this man, but I'll do so without spending the night - even if I had five gold pieces per person per night I can think of better things to do than handing them over to an inn in the middle of fucking nowhere.  I have to wonder how much custom this place receives.  Are there so many adventurers, and they so desperate for a roof over their heads that this pricing is effective?  Or is there so little traffic that he simply does not need the money?

Irrespective we all of us met with Shades, who had rather optimistically but, it turns out, accurately predicted a large number of respondants to her call out for muscle and had ensconced herself at a pulled-together collection of tables with enough seating for all seven of us.  Shades is a tengu, a disreputable race of prideful thieves I have encountered but a few times before and never in circumstances that called into question the generally accepted concerns about their presence in a city, but if anyone is positioned to not judge a person by their heritage it is I.  So far she has seemed more interested in contracts and regulations than petty theft, so I will hope for the best.

Her proposition was simple: she had inherited the deeds to a nearby castle, which had apparently been overrun by kobolds and gnolls.  She needed assistance in clearing them out so that she could take possession of the land.  Why she would want a run-down castle out here - or why anyone could be bothered building such an edifice out here in the first place - I neither know nor care; her claim seems legitimate, as kobolds are not known for their propensity to legally purchase investment properties in remote little inglenooks such as this quaint shithole.

We leave early tomorrow, a sizable party with all six of my fellow evictors having signed on.  There was talk of shares, which I'll need initially if I am to properly equip myself, but that's not why I'm here.  The Great Downward Engineering Company, which the tengu either operates or represents, intends to begin expeditions into Rappan Athuk.  I consider this quick jaunt to be a job interview for that more serious undertaking.  I must get to Rappan Athuk.