SESSION 32A: ENTHRALLED IN OLDTOWN

December 20th, 2008
The 18th Day of Kadal in the 790th Year of the Seyrunian Dynasty

When Tee returned shortly after noon, the group retrenched its plans. They had already decided to meet with Sir Kabel for dinner that evening and they now resolved to use that meeting to lay out a complete strategy for dealing with Rehobath, the arrival of Kirian Ylestos, the affairs of the Order of the Dawn, and the decisions facing Dominic.

This, however, left them with several hours of empty time to fill. Ranthir and Elestra had a variety of minor chores that they thought they might be able to pursue (the writing of magical scrolls, the gathering of information, and so forth), but then Tee proposed going to the project site of the cultists in Oldtown and laying siege to it.

This plan met with immediate and enthusiastic support. And, in short order, they found themselves approaching the building.

SCOUT BY SNAKE

Elestra called upon the Spirit of the City to cloak her companions from sight, allowing them to easily slip into the alley next to the building. Calling upon the Spirit once more, she shifted into the shape of a snake. Tee, using her boots of levitation, carried her up to the window on the second floor that she’d used before and slipped Elestra inside.

Slithering under doorways, Elestra noted several cocoons scattered around the upper level – some of them still whole, others hatched.

In a room on the far side of the building there were two of the hatched cocoons. There were also two doors, one of which had been barricaded shut with an assortment of half-broken furniture.

Elestra decided to avoid the barricade for now, and instead slithered under the other door. In the center of the next room were two of the “venom-shaped thralls”.

Fortunately, the creatures appeared to be sleeping – they were hunched down on the floor and their long, beclawed arms were drawn in close. Elestra beat a hasty retreat back into the outer room.

She considered heading directly back to the window where Tee was waiting. It would certainly be the safest thing to do. But, on the other hand, it would be helpful if she could finish scouting out the entirety of the second floor. Then they could form an accurate plan of action.

And so she slipped her way through the barricade and poked her head under the second door.

On the far side of the room there was a half-hatched cocoon. But extending from its broken shell there were writhing, gelatinous tentacles that groped grotesquely at the empty air. For a long moment, Elestra was captivated by the horrific sight of it. But then her reverie was broken by painful, stinging bites.

Wrenching her head out of the room, Elestra saw a swarming carpet of strangely deformed, red-and-black beetles pouring out of one of the hatched cocoons in the outer room. She had been literally overwhelmed by the outer edge of the swarm.

She fled back towards Tee with the chaos beetles biting and stinging her as she went. Tee, seeing her plight, flung open the window and fired once into the mass of creatures. The blast had little effect, but it did cause the creatures to fall back long enough for Elestra – momentarily freed from their mass – to escape out of the window as Tee scooped her up.

Ranthir, seeing the panicked scene above, reacted quickly. With a wave of his hand the window slammed shut.

Mere moments after the window shut, Tee saw one of the venom-shaped thralls scurry into view – evidently awoken by the sounds of the swarming chaos beetles. Before it had a chance to notice them hovering outside of the window, however, Tee dropped out of sight and returned to the alley below.

MELEE ON THE SECOND FLOOR

When they reached the ground, Elestra returned to human form. She quickly described what she had seen to the others. Since the second floor was so sparsely populated, they decided to quickly mop up the minimal opposition before the riled up chaos beetles alerted everything in the building to their presence.

Levitating back up, however, Tee found the window Ranthir had shut swarming with the chaos beetles – the entire surface a churning, chitinous mass. She blanched. Disgusting…

“Did we ever figure out why the bug-things were called venom-shaped thralls?” Elestra asked.

“Because they’re poisonous?” Tor ventured.

“But venom-shaped…” Dominic said.

“They’re made out of venom?” Elestra suggested.

Tee, meanwhile, was circling around to the western side of the building. There she found another window, this one looking out over the rear alley. Peeking through it she saw one of the thralls patrolling the hallway leading to the stairs. And there was another of the black cocoons attached to the far wall. But it would have to do. She eased her way up to the roof, tied off her rope, and lowered it to the others below.

Returning to the window, Tee eased it open and slipped inside. She slid in behind the banister of the stairs. From her hiding place there, she waited for Agnarr to reach the window. Then, once the patrolling thrall’s back was turned, she gave the signal: Agnarr leapt through the window, silently rolled to his feet directly behind the thrall, and then gave his familiar battlecry: FOR THE GLORY!

As the flaming greatsword bit deep into the creature’s chitinous hide, acidic ichor sprayed from the wound and oozed down its side. Agnarr’s arms burned at its touch.

The thrall whirled with a hideous, chittering hiss that echoed through the upper level of the ruined apartment complex. Tee, timing her move perfectly, circled it in the opposite direction and buried her sword in its back. It howled its hiss again, its serrated beak and claws going into a furious flurry at Agnarr’s expense.

Agnarr was forced back a step by the thing’s furious onslaught. “They’re bigger than we thought!” he shouted over his shoulder.

But then Tor, who had scrambled through the window behind them, stepped up and beheaded the creature with a single smooth stroke. Its head went bouncing down the length of the hall… but as it passed over the cocoon at the far end of the hall, a thrall-claw suddenly burst forth from the purplish-black mass and impaled it in mid-air.

“Oh shit…” Tee turned towards it and drew her dragon pistol. But as she prepared to fire, she saw – through one of the gaping holes in the wall – the chittering mass of the chaos swarm sweeping towards her like an ambulatory carpet. “Oh shit!” She swung her pistol in that direction and fired.

Her blasts had little effect, but then Ranthir stepped forward, lowered his hands, and bathed the creatures in flame. Unfortunately, they kept coming. Elestra, calling on her own magical might, dropped a ball of roiling fire into their midst, but the creatures swarmed around it and clambered up Ranthir’s legs – leaving hideous red welts in their wake.

Ranthir screamed. But then Elestra swung the ball of fire back into the midst of the swarm and, this time, the flames shattered the swarm’s hivemind, sending the desultory remnants scattering into the corners of the room.

Tor went racing past them and plunged his sword into the hatching cocoon – but to no avail. The half-dozen claws of the creature continued ripping their way to freedom.

Tee dropped her dragon pistol and drew her bow, wanting its greater accuracy. As the newborn thrall ripped its way free from the cocoon, Tee loosed her shot – placing the arrow straight through the emerging creature’s eye.

With a flip of her hand, Elestra engulfed the thrall’s head in a ball of the flame. And then Tee shot again, her arrow ripping through its second eye and bursting through the back of its skull – leaving a slightly flaming arrow flicker in the wall at the center of a splash of green ichor and black brain. The creature slumped forward over the edge of the cocoon.

Meanwhile, another of the thralls – the second of those Elestra had seen before – had burst through the door on the far side of the room. Agnarr moved to engage it and Ranthir quickly scurried in that direction. Laying his hand on the barbarian’s back, he released a sharp burst of arcane energy. Agnarr grew and grew and grew… finally reaching thirteen feet in height.

In a panic, the venom-shaped thrall scuttled backwards – its flashing claws and beak lashing Agnarr, but doing little real harm. Agnarr drove it back and then cut it in ichorous twain.

TIP-TOEING THROUGH THE TULIPS

Ranthir and Tee could both feel the venom of the chaos beetle swarm burning in their blood. As its effects grew worse, their limbs began to shake uncontrollably. Dominic was able to help Tee, but they lacked the proper resources to fully cure Ranthir (who was left shaking with a severe palsy).

Tor wanted to finish their sweep of the upper level as quickly as possible, convinced that anything on the lower level of the apartment building must already be aware of them. He moved into the next room, verified it was empty, and started heading towards the barricaded door.

But then, on the ceiling, he spotted an effervescent patch of violet-colored slime. It looked… unpleasant.

Since Agnarr was thirteen feet tall (and stooping even in the high, vaulted ceilings of these ruined apartments), Tor called him over to take a close look at the patch of slime – and deal with it if necessary.

But as Agnarr cut through the room at the center of the complex, the floor suddenly buckled beneath him – plunging him down to the first floor in a loud, splintering crash of broken wood.

Looking around, Agnarr saw the problem: Several support walls had been completely destroyed and there were several broken floor beams. He tried climbing back up to the second floor, but the acid-eaten floorboards broke beneath his weight a second time and dropped him back down again.

“I’m just going to stay down here,” Agnarr said, heading towards the far door of the room he’d fallen into. “Tip-toe… through the tulips…”

Running the Campaign: The Traps That Move You  – Campaign Journal: Session 32B
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index

DISCUSSING
In the Shadow of the Spire – Session 31E: Kabel’s Tale

Returning to the Ghostly Minstrel they spent the better part of an hour cleaning up the coagulate gore and blood that had been spattered across them in the Banewarrens (and only now pausing to reflect on Brother Heth’s blithe reaction to the same).

We all have weak spots as GMs. Stuff that’s tougher for us. Mistakes that we make more often than we’d like. Things we overlook or fail to take advantage of.

One of these for me is keeping an updated “mental portrait” of the PCs in my head (and, therefore, my descriptions). I generally have a vision of the PCs in mind, but I have a tendency to let it default back to its generic baseline instead of, for example, incorporating all the muck and filth that a bunch of people rummaging around in monster-infested caverns are likely to get coated in.

In this particular case, the players had also forgotten to think about this until later in the session (when they wanted to get cleaned up for a social event), so we were able to play it as ironic comedy beat.

(Although I feel that if I was better about personally tracking this sort of thing and incorporating it into my long-term descriptions, then my players would be less likely to forget about it themselves. So I think the failure still comes back to me.)

A technique I’ve found useful for this is to put a reminder of the group’s “descriptive status” on a swap note on my GM screen. Having it persistently present in my field of vision provides a periodic, unprompted reminder that helps me describe things appropriately and make sure the campaign world is reacting appropriately.

(Now I just need to remember to update the swap notes…)

I’m still running this Ptolus campaign today, and, as you can tell from the dates on the campaign journals, the campaign has progressed quite a bit beyond this point. As a result, I’ve actually discovered a long-term problem related to this one: My mental image of the characters is kind of “stuck” on how the characters looked during these early days of the campaign.

(Sort of like how you often think about how your friends looked in college, even if it’s been years and years since any of you were in college.)

Talking with the players, I discovered that I was not entirely alone in this.

In the actual campaign, though, the PCs are all decked out in awe-inspiring magical gear, one of them has horns now, and a couple have been transformed into albinos. (As you do.)

For this, I discovered that commissioning some fresh character art and then either hanging it in the game room or using it for my GM screen did the trick.

Campaign Journal: Session 32A – Running the Campaign: The Traps That Move You
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index

SESSION 31E: KABEL’S TALE

November 9th, 2008
The 18th Day of Kadal in the 790th Year of the Seyrunian Dynasty

A NOONTIME WITH KABEL

After dropping Iltumar back at the Bull and Bear (the lad was rather saddle sore), Tor returned to the Nibeck Street mansion. As arranged, Ranthir and Tee met him just inside the door. Tee broke the news of Kabel’s warrant (which she had learned from Elestra when she had returned earlier). Ranthir rendered him invisible and then headed out the door first, allowing Tor to slip out without any visible sign.

From the outside, Pythoness House still looked completely deserted. Tor passed through the gatehouse, easily slipping past two knights of the Order of the Dawn who were stationed as covert guards in the courtyard. He quickly found Sir Kabel and Sera Nara in one of the former bedchambers on the first floor, quietly discussing matters over a game of dragonscales.

Tor knocked on the door.

Sera Nara was jumpy. “Who’s there? Show yourself!”

“That will be… difficult,” Tor said. “It’s Tor. I thought it best if I came as secretly as possible.”

Sir Kabel waved Sera Nara down.

“Where should I sit?” Tor asked.

“Wherever you like,” Kabel said. “We are, after all, here at your sufferance.”

It took a few moments for the invisibility spell Ranthir had worked to wear off. As Tor became visible, Sir Kabel smiled, “It’s good to see you, Master Tor.”

“Before we begin,” Tor said, “I have a confession to make.” He quickly explained that he was responsible for Kabel nearly being captured. “I thought it was a snare. I am sorry.”

“No, the debt is entirely mine,” Kabel said. “Without the efforts of you and your friends, we would have all been captured.”

“I’m sorry to say that I have more bad news,” Tor said. “A warrant has been sworn out for your arrest.”

Kabel grimaced.

“I’d like to help you. We’d all like to help you. But first I’d like to know what happened that morning.”

A flash of anger crossed Sera Nara’s face. Sir Kabel held up a placating hand to her, “No. It’s all right. I’m sure that Rehobath has spread his story far and wide. It’s good to hear the truth.”

KABEL’S TALE

“I had taken several knights from the Order to train at the tournament field. Many of these were loyalists to the Church, but there were a few that were brought so that we might try to recruit them. We needed all the support we could if we were going to remove the False Novarch.

“Unfortunately, not all of those I trusted were truly loyal. Two of my knights – Aric and Thomas – attacked me. Crying their loyalty to Rehobath and with a vow to kill me for a traitor, they attempted to assassinate me.

“They failed, largely through the quick blade of Sera Nara. While we were still gathering our wits, another of my loyal knights rode up and warned us of further treachery: Sir Gemmell had attempted to gather those knights loyal to me and ambush them in the Great Hall of the Godskeep.

“We rode hard and discovered that Gemmell’s plan had failed. The loyalist knights had fought their way out of the Godskeep. But now there was heavy fighting on the green south of the keep and my men were pinned down between the Godskeep and the Cathedral.

“We were able to cut through the defensive line that Gemmell had formed. We fled west down Sunrise Street. When we came to the Street of a Million Gods, I ordered my men to scatter. The group I led eventually made our way to the pub in Rivergate and, from there – through your grace – to here.”

PRELUDE OF THE FATAR

“That explains many things,” Tor said.

“Now, there’s something else I’d like to propose.” Sir Kabel leaned back and gestured expansively, taking in the whole of the room and beyond. “The knights loyal to our cause are scattered, hiding in bolt-holes around the city. They’re just waiting to bound by Gemmell and the other traitors and captured. But Pythoness House is practically a fortress. It could be secured against any assault by Rehobath or his cronies. You brought us here. Is it all right if use this as a safe haven for the others?”

Tor was hesitant. “I’m not sure I have the right to make the decision without first consulting my comrades. We’ve spoken, actually, of our need to find a place more secure – and secret – than the Ghostly Minstrel as a base of operations. We had been thinking of using Pythoness House ourselves.”

“I understand,” Kabel said.

“What are your plans, exactly?” Tor asked.

“I’ve received word from the Church in Seyrun. Kirian Ylestos has been raised as the Silver Fatar of Athor and dispatched to Ptolus to take control of the Cathedral. He’s bringing with him a small platoon of the Crimson Guard. With the guard reinforcing my loyalists, I believe that we’ll able to overwhelm Sir Gemmell, capture Rehobath, and put an end to this farce.”

“How many men do you have?”

“Twenty or so loyalists, unless more have been captured,” Kabel said. “And the platoon will bring another twenty armed men to our side.”

“And how many men does Gemmell have?”

“At least forty knights still serve him in the Godskeep,” Kabel admitted. “But when the true Fatar arrives and the word of the Church is heard again, I think many of them will realize their folly. Of course it would be easier if… Since he isn’t here, am I to understand that Dominic is not to be trusted?”

“No,” Tor said. “I only came alone in an effort to be as secure as possible.”

“If Dominic were to publicly denounce Rehobath, that would go far towards discrediting Rehobath’s heresies. More of the Order might turn against him and Gemmell.”

“He’s not a friend to Rehobath, I can tell you that,” Tor said. “But beyond that I can’t say. I would need to ask him. Perhaps it would be best if I brought all of my friends here to meet with you.”

Tee stepped out of the shadows by the door. “Some of us are here already.”

TEE’S PATH

After Tor left the Nibeck Street mansion, Tee had waited ten minutes and then climbed over the rear wall of the mansion. When she had reached Pythoness House she hadn’t bothered trying to go through the gates, instead climbing the wall and quickly reaching the roof above the gatehouse. From there she was able to look down into the courtyard and easily spotted the two knights guarding the entrance. She had slipped down through the gatehouse (saying a quiet “hello” to Taunell) and started looking for Tor. It took her several minutes, but she had arrived outside the door just in time to hear the last few sentences of the conversation.

Nara leapt to her feet and her sword leapt into her hand. “Who are you?”

Tor quickly made the requisite introductions. Tee gently pushed Nara’s sword away from her throat as Kabel waved her down again.

“Apparently we’re going to need new guards.” Kabel smiled.

They agreed to meet for dinner that evening and Tor asked him if they would need any supplies or the like.

“No. Nara is quite… skilled in keeping a low profile,” Kabel said. “She should be able to supply all of our needs. I look forward to our… palaver.” He smiled again. “Master Tor, I am forever in your debt.”

“It was the least I could do,” Tor said.

Kabel led them out into the courtyard – quite confusing the two guards who were still standing duty there (Kabel promised to explain things to them later). Then they made their farewells and left.

BACK AT THE MANSION AGAIN

Returning to the Nibeck Street mansion, Tee and Tor met up with the others and filled them in on the situation. They all readily agreed to return to Pythoness House for dinner the next day and listen to Kabel’s proposals.

Tee, having business in the city, left the rest of them to return to their vigil in the Banewarrens. On the walk back towards the excavated cave, the discussion turned towards what Dominic should do: Denounce Rehobath or continue keeping as low a profile as possible?

“So what is Vehthyl telling you to do?” Elestra asked.

“Vehthyl has nothing to say about it,” Dominic quipped.

“What about that other saint?” Elestra said.

Dominic was getting uncomfortable with her cavalier attitude towards the whole matter. He still wasn’t sure what he thought about being a saint or the “Chosen of Vehthyl” or whatever, so he wasn’t prepared for her to be so familiar with the idea of it. “Do you mean the Star of Itor?”

“Yeah. What was it he said to you? That you should follow your heart? What is your heart saying?”

“I… I don’t think I know,” Dominic said.

“I guess it’s a question of where your loyalties lie,” Ranthir said.

“I don’t know that, either,” Dominic said.

“We may not know which side is right,” Tor said. “But I think we know which side is wrong.”

Running the Campaign: Gore-Spattered Reactions  – Campaign Journal: Session 32A
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index

DISCUSSING
In the Shadow of the Spire – Session 31D: The Midnight Watch

Tee floated up to the roof and kept an eye on the street to make sure that he wasn’t actually leaving the building. A few minutes later, however, she saw a light through the rear windows of the building moving back towards the room with the corpse. She returned to the window in time to see a group of several people return: The same grey-robed man was accompanied by two others wearing serpent symbols and a fourth man with a large tattoo in the shape of a black hand on his throat.

After no more than a cursory inspection of the corpse, the group fell into arguing with each other. Tee was having problems hearing, so she cautiously cracked the window open.

NPCs talking to each other.

…

I have felt a great disturbance in the Force. As if millions of GM spines suddenly shivered at once and in unison.

Roleplaying one character is tough. Roleplaying two characters is tougher. Roleplaying two characters talking directly to each other sometimes feels completely impossible. (Dial up your terror level as the number of NPCs increases.)

In practice, this is the result of two distinct challenges.

First, putting words into the NPC’s mouths. Literally just figuring out what they’re actually going to say.

Second, making it clear to the players which NPC is talking (and who they’re talking to).

Of course, neither of these challenges are unique to scenes featuring multiple NPCs. Whenever the PCs interact with an NPC, we must establish who’s speaking and then play the role (i.e., figure out what they say). The exponential complexity arises from switching, often rapidly, between roles, turning simple performance — which can be difficult enough in its own right — into a juggling act.

Unfortunately, I don’t have a magic wand I can wave to make this simple for you. But here’s a cluster of techniques that I use to turn the untenable into the manageable.

First, universal roleplaying templates. I make a point of prepping these for major NPCs, and particularly for those that I know (or suspect) will be putting in an appearance during a big social event. A key utility feature here is that each template appears on a separate sheet. That might be a full A4/Letter sheet, or it could be a half sheet. Regardless, you want a separate sheet for each NPC because it allows you to easily grab the NPCs you need and lay them all out on the table in front you. This allows you to easily swap from one character to another by just flicking your eyes around.

With a little extra effort, you can make tent cards for the NPCs. Put a picture on one side and their name on the other, then put them on the table or drape them over the top of your GM screen where both you and your players can see them.

(For NPCs with shorter write-ups, you might even be able to fit all their info — or maybe just duplicate the most important info — on the back of each card.)

These tent cards make it very easy for everyone to keep track of which NPCs are present in the current scene (or the current grouping within a larger party scene). It can also vastly simplify indicating who the current speaker is: Simply pick up the appropriate tent card, then set it back down when they’re done talking.

Another trick for indicating current speaker is body position. Just sort of flipping back and forth in your chair can feel silly. It can be more effective, rather than thinking about the act of turning back and forth, to pick a point of focus for each NPC. (For example, King Abelard is looking at the dragon statuette in the corner to your right and Lady Beatrice is looking at the AC/DC poster on the wall to your left.) When the NPCs are talking to each other, just have them address the appropriate point of focus.

You might also consider standing up. Simply moving from the left side to the right side of your chair can feel more natural than spinning in place, while having an even greater clarity for the players. (Each NPC literally gets their own physical space in the game room, even if it’s only a slight distinction.)

Finally, returning to the roleplaying template, I highly recommend making sure each character has a distinct physical mannerism (stroking their beard, tapping their fingers together, bawdy winking, running their fingers through their hair, tugging their ear nervously, an accent, etc.). Such mannerisms not only help clue the players into which character is speaking, they can also make it a lot easier for you to switch between characters: The mannerism becomes a convenient hook for picking the character up and sliding into the role. Swapping from tugging your ear to stroking your imaginary beard is a mnemonic that helps easily propel you from one POV to the other.

Speaking of POV, that brings us to arguably the most difficult part of the whole exercise: Figuring out what each character is saying.

What I recommend here is to really clearly define for yourself what each character’s objective is. Why are they participating in this discussion? What are they trying to achieve? Don’t get wishy-washy with this. The more specific it is — and the more motivated they are to get it — the easier it will be find their words.

If you want to get more technical with this, then start thinking in terms of tactics: How is the NPC trying to achieve their goal? Once again, making this as specific as possible (she’s going to blackmail him with the photos to make him steal the vault codes; he’s going to appeal to the duke’s sense of morality; the goblin is going to lie about he saw) will make it easier for you to flip to the other side of the conversation and ask, “Does that work?” (And, if not, why not?) If you’re uncertain, then play the uncertainty. Or make a dice roll to resolve it.

“Reggaloch’s dead, Gavele. Theral found the body here.”

“Theral killed him you mean!” Vocaetun shouted.

While the other cultists went back to arguing, Gavele knelt down next to Reggaloch’s body and did a more thorough inspection of the corpse. Unnoticed by the others (but not unnoticed by Tee), she found a note and slipped it into her pocket. Then she stood up.

“That’s enough,” she said. “Reggaloch has been dead for days. Give the body to the thralls. They’ll eat it up. Then come with me and we’ll settle this. You really don’t want me to have to bring this idiocy to Illadras’ attention.”

Finally, if each character has clearly defined and opposing objectives in the scene, it will become a lot easier to identify when the scene is over (i.e., when one of the characters has achieved their objective). That will help make sure that the conversation doesn’t just kind of whimper out or continue forever without any sort of resolution.

Campaign Journal: Session 31E – Running the Campaign: Gore-Spattered Reactions
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index

SESSION 31D: THE MIDNIGHT WATCH

November 9th, 2008
The 18th Day of Kadal in the 790th Year of the Seyrunian Dynasty

As midnight drew near, Tee left the Banewarrens and headed across Oldtown for her guard duties as a “cultist”. On her previous watches there had been little or no activity around the apartment complex. In fact, from all outward appearances, it seemed to be abandoned.

About an hour into her shift, however, Tee suddenly saw a light come on in one of the upper windows of the building. Her interest was particularly piqued when she realized that it was the window of the room in which Ranthir had clairvoyantly spied on a quarrel between cultists of the Ebon Hand and the Brotherhood of Venom.

Tee slipped across the street and, using her magical boots, levitated up to the window. The curtains had been drawn, but they were cracked and she was able to peer between them: A grim-visaged man wearing grey robes and an iron breastplate bearing the symbol of a coiled serpent was kneeling next to the corpse Ranthir had seen left behind. After a few moments, he stood up and left the room.

Tee floated up to the roof and kept an eye on the street to make sure that he wasn’t actually leaving the building. A few minutes later, however, she saw a light through the rear windows of the building moving back towards the room with the corpse. She returned to the window in time to see a group of several people return: The same grey-robed man was accompanied by two others wearing serpent symbols and a fourth man with a large tattoo in the shape of a black hand on his throat.

After no more than a cursory inspection of the corpse, the group fell into arguing with each other. Tee was having problems hearing, so she cautiously cracked the window open.

“—we’re not going to stand for this!” This was the Ebon Hand cultist.

“Vocaetun, if you’re making some sort of accusation—“ this was the grey-robed man.

“I am! You may think that you can steal this research from us! But we have worked just as hard to perfect the venom-shaped thralls, and we won’t let you steal them from us.”

“It could have easily been one of the thralls who did this.”

“Don’t be absurd!”

At this point one of the Venom cultists slipped out of the room. The argument continued vociferously. It became clear that the two cults had been working together to create “venom-shaped thralls” – which Tee guessed must be the insectoid horrors that Ranthir had seen on the lower level – but now significant distrust was boiling up between the two groups.

The cultist who had left returned, following a woman with golden-brown skin. Tee spotted a bell-shaped charm around the woman’s wrist.

As soon as they saw her, the other cultists fell silent. She eyed fixed them with a steady gaze until they settled down. “What’s going on here?”

“Reggaloch’s dead, Gavele. Theral found the body here.”

“Theral killed him you mean!” Vocaetun shouted.

While the other cultists went back to arguing, Gavele knelt down next to Reggaloch’s body and did a more thorough inspection of the corpse. Unnoticed by the others (but not unnoticed by Tee), she found a note and slipped it into her pocket. Then she stood up.

“That’s enough,” she said. “Reggaloch has been dead for days. Give the body to the thralls. They’ll eat it up. Then come with me and we’ll settle this. You really don’t want me to have to bring this idiocy to Illadras’ attention.”

At the woman’s direction, a couple of the cultists grabbed the corpse and hauled it out of the room. The rest of the cultists followed, taking the light with them.

Tee waited for a long while. When it was clear that none of them were coming back, she decided to go through the window. She eased it open silently and slipped inside.

She could hear sounds of movement from below, but nothing untoward here on the upper level. It looked as if the room had been torn apart: Various pieces of furniture had been smashed into kindling and scattered around haphazardly. There were doors to her left and right, but there was also a gaping hole punched through the far wall.

She headed through the hole in the wall into another large room. The floor creaked ominously under her weight. There was another hole in the far wall here, too, but she couldn’t see anything beyond it due to the lack of light. There were a couple of doors and one of these had been smashed open. Through it she could see a hallway leading to the stairs.

She decided to backtrack through the room where Reggaloch had died and tried one of the doors. Through it she found the remnants of a small apartment. In one corner of the ruined room she saw a cocoon of crystalline black secretions. In the other corner there was a second cocoon… but this one had been ripped open from the inside, and something seemed to be writhing in there.

I’m going to die in here… Tee realized with a sudden dread. She backed out of the room, shut the door, and escaped out the window.

She returned to her post across the street and waited for dawn to come. Just a few moments before the end of her shift, however, the door of the apartment building opened. The Ebon Hand cultist she had seen in the room above emerged and began walking down the street to the west.

She was just considering whether she should follow him or not when she spotted him surreptitiously passing a note to a man walking in the opposite direction. That settled the matter for her: She wanted to see that note.

She followed the messenger for several blocks and then, seizing an opportune moment, knocked him unconscious. She grabbed the note, quickly rifled through his purse (to make it look like an ordinary robbery), and then slipped away. When she was safely out of sight, she opened the note and read.

Malleck—

Reggaloch is dead. I am certain the Brothers of Venom are to blame. Gavele is deaf to our cause. I would urge you to send more of our brethren as soon as you can.

Vocaetun

Thinking quickly, she returned to where she had left the messenger. He was still unconscious. She quickly replaced the note and then woke him up.

“Hey! Are you all right? I saw that guy hit you and then—“

The messenger, with a look of panic in his eye, quickly patted himself down. As soon as he had confirmed that the note was there, he pushed his way past Tee and hurried down the street.

Alarmed, but not suspicious… Good. Tee nodded to herself and then headed back to the Banewarrens to meet up with the others.

A MORNING WITH ILTUMAR

When Tee returned to the excavated cave, she found Agnarr and Kalerecent on watch. Ranthir was awake, as well, having suffered from bad nightmares during the night. Waking the others, she proposed that they should renew the alarming charm that had been placed on the sealed door.

This needed to be done in any case, but it also gave them an excuse to leave Kalerecent so that they could speak in private. As they walked, Tee quickly briefed the others on what she had seen the night before.

(“You went inside?” Dominic said, incredulous.)

Elestra renewed the alarming charm and they made their way back to the excavated cave. All was quiet in the Banewarrens.

While the others rejoined Kalerecent’s watch, Elestra and Tor left the Banewarrens.

While careful to remain within the limits of her alarming charm, Elestra walked the streets of Oldtown. What she heard disturbed her: Late last evening, a small group of arcanists had magically animated the painted mural of the griffon in the common hall of the Griffon Tavern on Tavern Row. Three innocent bystanders had been killed by the creature before Sheva Callister had been able to stop it.

The word on the street was clear: The Killravens were making a concerted push to muscle in on the Balacazars’ protection racket along Tavern Row. There had been a few skirmishes between low level enforcers, but it was only a matter of time before the Balacazars started pushing back… and when they did, things were going to get ugly.

Nearly drowned out by the affairs on Tavern Row, there was another piece of news: A warrant of arrest had been sworn out for Sir Kabel. The charges were “disturbances of the peace” and “conspiracy to murder”.

Tor, meanwhile, headed down into Midtown. He met Iltumar at the Bull and Bear.

“Did you get a sword?”

“I did!” Iltumar said, patting the blade strapped awkwardly to his hip.

“Good. Do you have a horse?”

“… no.” Iltumar frowned.

“It’s all right. I’m sure arrangements can be made.”

And, in fact, they could. At the stable behind the Ghostly Minstrel, Tor saddled Blue and made arrangements to hire a horse for Iltumar for the day.

They rode up to the tournament grounds north of town. They were empty, but served as an excellent arena in which Tor could practice Iltumar on the arts of the sword.

As they worked, Iltumar slowly loosened up – both physically and with his tongue. “I think it’s important to fight for what’s right,” he said. “I wish I could do what you and Mistress Tee do.”

“What do you mean?”

“Making a difference in the world,” he said. “That’s all I dream about, really.”

Tor grunted. “That’s a noble sentiment. And now… defend yourself!” And he pressed the attack again.

Running the Campaign: Roleplaying NPC Scenes  – Campaign Journal: Session 31E
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index