20/18/744 A.E.
The winter was not too hard this year, and the beginning of a new year approaches. Soon, the 745th year of the Alodarian Empire will begin, and Philippe Montrose, the current emperor, will start his 22nd year of office. But Imperial concerns within the capital city of Alodar are not likely to concern too many people in Little Falls. The High Holy Day approaches. Common to practically all religions, this day, the first of the year, the spring equinox, is considered holy by many, if not the most holy day in the year. Soon Pholar and Septer will eclipse one another. This, in and of itself, isn't so surprising as these moons do this every 20 days (each scepter month, or every two pholar weeks), but only at this time will both moons be full. And this event marks the spring equinox, a new beginning, a new year, a fresh start for all.
And, of course, religious considerations aside, the festivals and parties and get-togethers will be numerous and joyous. During the last pholar of the year, the shops are open nearly 18 hours a day rather than the usual 12, and everyone is out preparing for their celebrations, whatever form they may take. All is well within the empire. Or is it?
ENTER LISKA: Liska, a druid who recently found herself all alone and on the imperial continent for the first time in her life, enters the small town of Little Falls. She had just completed building a small shrine to her deities not so far outside of this town, as directed by her mentor, and was now free to do as she wished. This is really her first opportunity to see a human city of any size, but as she has been to the Elven city of Alderami, whose massive trees and treehouse structures and intricate mazes of wooden and rope bridges all speak of a city of thousands perched amid the branches above the watery surface below, so Little Falls seem small and simple in comparison. So rather than fear and trepidation at the thoughts of making it alone in a vast new city, Liska is happy, hopeful, and eager to look around this little place. The crowds and the bustle amongst them in this one place are amazing to her, however. And, quite frankly, she finds them all a bit rude as Liska gets shoved around, just like all the other people, while she attempts to get through the throng and make her way to the delicious smells of food coming from a reasonably large building, a three story structure, which seemed to be quite popular. The building simply sports the name, Lucky's.
ENTER ANNE: Anne Jeris Wethrin, a woman of surprising intelligence, a mage if by no other name, walks the streets of Little Falls. This is her third High Holy Day in this city, though she barely saw the first two as she was settling into her new temporary home of the Magic User and Mage, Serious Phonon Maurice Flinger. She was lucky to obtain him as her mentor, for she had even heard of him as far north as her home in the Misty Veil near the base of Bishop's Peak. As Anne walked the streets of Little Falls, looking here and there and checking out this shop and that, she reflected on the last few hours of her life.
Serious had uncharacteristically summoned her to his study. "You have done well, my dear," he smiled at her affectionately, but Anne's eyes were following Shadow's controlled flight through the room and her subsequent landing atop her usual perch. She had come to love that old mage's familiar, Shadow, the white owl of the night. "Ahem . . . ," he said, refocusing her attention, whereupon she saw he was handing her a small book. "I want you to have this as a parting present." Choosing not to get up after all, the mage placed the book on top of the other text books Anne had come to know so well. She glanced at the stack, moving her eyes over the spines from the bottom most to the top: Algebra, Geometry, Advanced Algebra, Trigonometry, Analytic Geometry, Analysis, Calculus, Matrices, Differential Equations, Partial Differential Equations, Linear Analysis, Quantum Analysis, Planar Quantum Theory, Nexal Theory, High Energy Conduits, Planar Transferal Equations, Quantum Physics, Mana Manifestations, Magical Matrices, Magical Physics, Triggering Analysis, Extra Planar Quantum Considerations, Probability Fluctuations and Planar Phasing, and finally, there, atop the stack of so many books that had given her so many headaches over the years, a brand new spellbook, an instrument to put all that theory into actual practice. But what did he just say?
"Parting?" she asked, almost in disbelief.
"Yes, for now; at least for a time," he said as he reached for a rather arcane looking staff. "And I wish you take this, as well, " he said as he began to hand her the ancient looking piece of wood, stopping short, as if in thought. "This, my dear, is, or rather was, quite a little wonder a long time ago. Unfortunately, it was somewhat . . . deactivated in a rather horrific set of circumstances, which I do not care to go into at this time. Suffice it to say it is no longer . . . complete. In fact, in its current state, I'm not sure what may come of it, but I do know it is beyond my . . . consideration, so to speak, for me to keep it any longer. One day, perhaps, you may take the time to explore certain possible . . . scenarios." Anne was always slightly amused at the mage's habit of stopping and choosing the various words of his sentences carefully. "Until then, however, it is an excellent staff and should serve you well. And though it is still magic, its residual camouflage intelligence is still functioning. Sorry to say all this currently seems to do is hide the fact the staff is magical from all but the most serious of detection probes, but it's still a curiosity, and a good staff, in any event. Keep it well," he said, as he tossed her the staff.
Anne effortlessly caught the ancient stick. "Thank you, master Serious," was all she could think to say, for the thought of leaving her adopted home so soon was unsettling, and had not been something she was quite willing to think about this suddenly.
He looked at her, his smile gone and his eyes now cold upon her form. "You must leave, and you may not return until you have proven yourself. You will know . . . when. Until then, it is up to you to decide where you will go and what you will do. Make me proud girl, for my name goes with you."
Anne's face lit up with surprise at that last part, for the passing of one's mentor's very name was a rare honor and would now forever be part of her own name. Anne Jeris Serious Wethrin, and all who know of Serious would also know that she had earned his highest respect, and from an old and exacting master such as he, that is indeed a wonder.
And so, but a few days from the High Holy Day and the beginning of the year 745 A.E., Anne Jeris Serious Wethrin found herself walking the streets of Little Falls, with nowhere in particular to go, and nothing in particular to do, for the first time in many, many years.
It wasn't long before she simply realized how hungry she had gotten in those few hours, but Serious's kitchen was no longer an option, and the few coins she had wouldn't last very long. Serious was rich in knowledge and always gave Anne everything she really needed, but he never paid her very well for all that scutwork that was part of her normal duties. "Prove myself?" she thought to herself. "Or starve trying, I guess." Amid the crowded street a slight wind blew, bringing the refreshing aroma of food, and of some quality, if she was any judge. Counting the few coins in her purse, she made her way to Lucky's tavern, the source of the delicious smells that permeated the air and filled her nostrils. She had been there a few times in the past, but really never knew the place. Perhaps now would be the time to find out.
ENTER JORAL: Joral, recently turned loose upon the world by his mentor, Pathcutter Nobley, and finding the draw of the city during the festival something that interested him (for he had never seen it before) decided he must acquire something of worth to trade for the items of interest he might find in such a strange place. "There should be a large festival there, and they will always need meat," Joral thought to himself. And so after a dirty day of tracking through the mud and finally finding and shooting his prey with an arrow, Joral struggles into Little Falls with a field-dressed buck upon his mighty shoulders.
Almost without care, and using the deer's antlers to prod people from his path, Joral makes his way through the crowd until he finds what he is looking for. There, the smell is unmistakable; a butcher's shop is just what he needs.
PLANG! Joral lets the carcass fall onto the butcher's table, the various knives jostling around and making an odd sound when they hit the metal backboard of the table. "Might a small buck such as this be of any interest to you, sir?" Joral asked, hopefully.
The butcher, looking up to see the source of that great noise, smiled at such a handsome haunch that he knew he must have to fill a special order. He wiped the smile off his face, but not before Joral saw it. "Ahem, eh? Oh, well, yes. I guess I could use some more venison, if the price is reasonable," said the butcher.
Joral smiled at the butcher. "If you give me what we both consider fair, I'll almost certainly bring in more meat for you too, but if not, well, I'll have to sell it elsewhere. We rangers like all things to be fair, but while you think on that, I'll finish skinning it, if you don't mind," and Joral set to work using some of the butcher's knives that were handy.
The butcher, looking thoughtfully, and somewhat interested at the suggestion a ranger might somehow be interested in supplying him with fresh meat on a regular basis, rubbed his whiskers on his chin. Rangers are known for their honesty, and having one as a friend never hurts one's own reputation. "A ranger, you say? Well, yes sir, a fair price is in both our best interests. I'll give you, hmm, that's a big one, isn't it?, say, 4 gold for the meat. How about it?"
Joral is pleased with the thought of having 400 silver pieces to wildly spend in town during the festival. "Very good - it's a deal. I'll just finish here and be on my way."
Joral next finds himself at the tannery, but doesn't take long to sell the expertly harvested pelt for 1 GP. "Say, not too bad; 500 silver, all told, is plenty enough for a bit of fun," he said to no one in particular.
Realizing he is extremely hungry and thirsty after such a hard day's work, his thoughts drift to the hardtack and jerky in his backpack when he cuts the path of a stray wind carrying a hint of some of the charms offered at Lucky's Tavern. "What the hell? Live for the moment, I always say." Putting his jerky away, Joral makes a beeline for the tavern, again almost pushing the crowd aside with his very commanding presence.
ENTER ALCAR: Only a passing priest in this unexpected crowd, Alcar was amused at how wrong he had been about how busy this little town would be. He had intended to move right through on to Alodar, his home, but finding the place abuzz with such excitement, he thought he would stay and see what the High Holy Day looked like from a small town's perspective. He knew Little Falls was strong in several religions, with Athena and her temple of Vista representing the largest following in Little Falls. And Zeus had a small but proud temple near the shores of the land locked Lake Rebel. Prometheus had a small but important order of what he considered zealots for the titanic deity, too. Demeter was also important for her agricultural aid to a large farming community, her grove being located in the southwestern most part of the city. In fact, though he had heard Demeter and the druids had some special claim on Little Falls, he could never find out what that was. But his own deity, Freya, the goddess of love and beauty, was poorly represented here. Come to think of it, the entire Norse religion was sadly without representation in this small place, so he decided to stay and try for a few converts while enjoying the festival.
ENTER GRAFFITI: A lowly thief walked the streets, looking for easy marks. He had been at it all day and hadn't scored anything more valuable than 6 EPs. Why, oh why were these people running about with next to nothing in their purses? He finally decided he had had enough for one day and purchased a couple of turkey drumsticks from a street vendor. He had no problem with paying for things. It was, after all, easier to pay than steal. He just had to first steal the money, that's all. And though this may seem odd to most people, the very thought it was unusual never crossed Graffiti's mind.
Graffiti sat across the street from Lucky's tavern. He wished he could venture inside, but the proprietor had decided he didn't like Graff in there. Lucky, an older man with a limp, seemed to be worldlier than many had given him credit. Graff recalled asking once and learning it was probably the case that this Lucky fellow had been an adventurer of some kind in years gone by. He wondered just how good the old man still was as he looked over the three-story structure, looking for unguarded points of entry. Even in semi-retirement, such a man probably wouldn't have sold all his former equipment. He might yet he still have something of great value hidden somewhere in that place. In fact, since he didn't like a probable thief in his place, Graff felt sure Lucky must be hiding something valuable there. It never occurred to him that Lucky might just want to protect his customers from a cutpurse. The thought of considering others hardly ever occurred to him. Nobody ever really cared about him, right? It was the way of things.
Graff threw one leg bone down and started on the other drumstick. Yes, he must find a way in. That would be sweet. It would serve Lucky right, too. Keep me out of his place? "Who does he think he is?" Graff mumbled, suddenly aware he had said that out loud, but thankfully, no one was around to hear him.
LUCKY'S TAVERN: Only three stories in height, but a thousand stories of adventures, conquests, and ripping yarns of all kinds to delight and amuse could be found within, with all the drink one can buy while enjoying them. The first floor, the ground level of Lucky's, was such a place. From somewhere below, a subsurface level where nobody but Lucky and a select few ever could go, metal pipes carried hot air to various sections of the tavern. These exposed ones were mainly for the upper levels, for heat rises and the vents on the floor would have been fed from the concealed pipes below. The Continual Heat spells must have cost Lucky a bundle, and the unfortunate lack of concealment of the pipes along the ceiling gave the place a cluttered look, but that was usually only if one spent their time looking up at the ceiling. Most didn't, and the bustle of the barmaids trying to serve meals and drinks to the customers usually kept everyone's eyes on more immediate concerns on the ground level.
And in the back, past the main bar and away from the kitchen on the east side of the building, a cordoned off area with numerous tables and booths for fine dining, as taverns go. And in a far northwest corner, a sunken area of the floor where dancing usually took place, but there was no music at the moment, and so no dancers. And above that dance section, the ceiling was absent and on lookers from the second floor could look across a wooden railing and down upon the dancers if the games of chance on the second floor were insufficient to hold their interests.
A metal spiral staircase near the main entrance would convey one to the second or third floors. The second floor was dedicated to gaming; cards, dice, darts, roulette, almost anything you could gamble on could be found there. There was even a special section where you could gamble on the outcome of a chess match, of all things. Athenians! Them and their chess games - what are you gonna do? Fortunes have been made and lost here, but usually a more reserve, less epic amount of money would be involved. Usually.
And the third floor contained the rooms for rent by a few who were fortunate enough to be accepted. True, Lucky's policy of never renting a room for more than a pholar (10 days) kept the rooms clear more than would make good business sense, but Lucky didn't want permanent borders, so he didn't mind when some rooms remained unoccupied. There was only one exception so far. A man named Roberts, but no one knew much of anything about him; only that he had lived there for going on 4 years now, and people rarely saw the dark, brooding figure. Yet, in a pinch, one could always get a room at Lucky's for a few EPs a night.
The first floor, however, is where we will concern ourselves for the moment, for it is here that, due to the large suppertime crowd, only one table is currently free. And all food tables are reserved for groups; individuals must eat at the bar. Too bad that is full up as well, and some people are actually standing up and eating, trying to balance their plates on railings and windowsills, or just trying hard to juggle their banquet. Holidays.
Liska and Anne, each having ordered a drink, both looked at the open table reserved only for groups of two or more. They didn't know each other, but smile at one another, thinking the same thing, and both quickly crossed over and sat down at the table. Now Joral is quite an observant fellow, and though what he did may be considered rude, he could tell what the two women were doing, and so joined in. Upon seeing the women take the table, he quickly invited himself and sat down as well. I mean, they weren't likely to complain, and the table would normally seat four people, anyway, so there was plenty of room. Besides, they were cute.
Introductions went around, descriptions were given, small talk was made, and orders for food and drink of all kinds were made, and Katrena, the prettiest barmaid in the place, happily got their orders while they talked.
NOTE: It is not my intention to duplicate all the intricate roleplaying between PCs during these IRC sessions, but instead I will condense the play logs, and strive to follow only the main storyline and major points of interest for later possible reference in "The Story So Far."
After mealtime was nearly over and many had left the establishment, Liska, Anne, and Joral continued to talk over tea and/or coffee. It had been established that since they were all at odd ends and all of them were looking for something of interest to do, that they would keep in touch and perhaps find something for men and women of their skills to do someday, but as the festival loomed large, they had expected nothing to come up for some time.
ENTER CALIN: Calin, a constable of Little Falls, upon the order of the Sheriff, Kessler, burst into the tavern and announced the fact that a little boy had gone missing, and he had been missing for some time. Many were organizing search parties and all interested in helping out should do so. If they could find Joey Supperton soon, that would be good, and if not, such things usually ended badly. Calin implores those able to help and consults with Lucky for a time. Then Calin leaves the tavern and exits the story.
Lucky looks at the group he had been conversing with from time to time and limps over to their table. "I'm sorry, but I should close the place now so people will be more inclined to help rather than drink the night away. Not that I mean you, you understand, but some regulars. I hope to see you all again very soon," he said, smiling at the three as he collected the remaining tabs. They exit Lucky's and continue to talk in the street.
During the open conversation in the street, Alcar introduced himself. Recognizing other people of skill and merit, he offers to join in any search they may be planning. Also, Graffiti, over hearing their plans, while characteristically lurking near by, decides it may also do, for a time, to see what these people have, or perhaps just to get in good with potential movers and shakers, for money frequently follows such people around. Not that he gave a rat's ass about the boy, but no one need know that. He spoke, "I too am concerned for the boy. We should do something," he said, mentally rolling his eyes, but he didn't dare show his true feelings, or lack thereof.
Thus, it was decided they would all look together. As Lucky was just finishing locking up, they asked where the Supperton home was. He directed them to it and he wished them luck.
THE SUPPERTON HOME: A crowd of well-wishers is milling about the place and the uncontrollable sobbing of an excited woman can be heard coming from inside the house. A man stands guard by the door, looking inside every now and then, but mostly talking to all who engage him. Nightfall approaches.
The party finds that this man is Joey's uncle, Arthur Lexor, and Joey's mother, formerly a Lexor but now a Supperton, is of very little help due to the excitable nature of all the Lexor women. But the uncle is helpful. From him they learn Joey was last seen playing with a little neighbor boy, one Felix Sloan, perhaps six hours before. They asked Felix, but he didn't know where Joey was. Besides, 5-year-olds are notoriously unhelpful in these situations. Still, the party decides to inquire further of little Felix Sloan.
Felix again says he doesn't know more, but relays the fact Joey and he were last together 6 hours or more ago, playing in the sandbox in the Supperton yard. Touching Joral's scabbard, Felix asks, "Are you the guys Joey wants to be?" Perhaps, they think, Joey wants to be an adventurer, or maybe a hunter like his father, who is currently away on a hunting trip and has been so for over two pholars now. A sad homing it will be if his son is lost. So they have Felix take them to the sandbox. There, they discover two dolls, one a simple ghost-like figure, and the other more of a mage figure. They are lying next to a few wooden cedar shingles, probably from a nearby roof. The lower 1/3rd of the shingles were dirty and damp, as if they had been partially buried in the sand, but the upper 2/3rds were relatively clean and dry. (No one guessed they were used as pretend headstones). There is an odd imprint in the fine sand of the sandbox. A closer inspection by Joral reveals it has been made by a wooden toy sword (for hints of the wooden grain can actually be seen in the imprint). Felix also now relates that Joey was scared of the ghost and talked of doing battle with them.
Joral attempts to track Joey, but too many search parties have been through here already, spoiling the tracks, and the light is getting increasingly poor. Though he doesn't mention this, Alcar has a Continual Light rock in a light-tight bag, but doesn't think to offer it to anyone at this time.
It eventually occurs to the party that Joey perhaps went to fight a ghost, and a ghost might be found in a graveyard. (How they come to this conclusion is a bit of a mystery, but it is essentially correct, so I go with it).
They travel out of town toward the nearest of the 4 graveyards for this town. Zeus, his followers being buried there, is the closest graveyard. Making their way over the stonewall, they soon find nothing; the foot markers are also hard to read. Either by virtue of nothing to find, or the realization that the followers of Zeus use only footstones and not headstones (as the shingles may have been), they decide to go farther up the road to the Athenian cemetery. The other two are on the opposite side of town and that would take an hour to get there anyway. Liska considers going for the sheriff, but reconsiders as he was last reported to be down by the docks searching the lake in case Joey went there. I guess the concerns of drowning are a bit more immediate than the problems of being lost elsewhere, so that made sense.
The Athenian cemetery is surrounded by a locked iron fence that they cannot easily climb. Graff fails in his attempt to pick the lock on the gate, but Joral soon discovers that there is a part of the fence where two bars have been bent far enough apart for a small person to squeeze though. Naturally, Joey couldn't have done that, but some earlier grave robber may have, and Joey could certainly have used that entrance. Looking around, now with the aid of Alcar's continual light rock, Joral confirms small footprints recently went through there. It is a bit of a bother, but with effort and ropes, Graff helps them climb over the fence and avoid the sharp, pointed spikes at the top.
Joral follows the trail to a pair of gravestones where a wooden sword is found leaning against one that bears the name, LEXOR. A recent grave, by all accounts, but there is nothing unusual to be seen. Joral also loses the trail, so a general search spreads out until Anne hears the clanging of stone against something and a faint whimpering. The noise was coming from a mausoleum nearby, the name CUMFERANCE upon it.
A quick glance tells the thief the iron chain and lock have rusted through, the door is ajar, and the cries of a little boy can be heard within.
They quickly enter to find the following: A crypt, with perhaps a dozen sealed crypts inside the walls, a central stone sarcophagus, a narrow path on one side of it with the other side being blocked by small, stacked, stone pews, each of which would take at least two strong men to move, and more stone pews beyond that where they see a skeletal figure trying to dig something out from behind a nook between a stone pew and the wall. The clack of bone on stone is suddenly replaced with a softer thud and the incessant whimpering suddenly stops.
Joral, enraged at the sight of the skeletal abomination, rushes forward and engages the skeleton, which apparently decided to meet him half way, blocking the only easy path to get to the skeleton. Clever, for a pile of bones. A battle ensues between Joral and Skull boy, with the rest of the party being bottlenecked behind the angry ranger. Armed with an edged weapon (half damage vs. skeletons), the ranger does not fare well, and soon he is wounded, falling while freeing the path again for another to take his place. Alcar had earlier tried to force the skelly back with the power of Freya, but a golden amulet worn around the skeleton's neck simply glowed brightly, causing the evil looking creature to apparently smile a toothy grin at the priest. Graff had by then climbed upon the sarcophagus and started hacking at skull boy with his shortsword, and Alcar dragged the ranger to safety and bound his wounds. Liska could finally get close enough to see a pool of blood glistening from behind the pew from where the whimpering had been coming. Shimmering and reflecting Alcar's continual light, the pool of blood ran in little rivulets down toward the sarcophagus.
Anne luckily distracted skull face with her Magic Missile spell, badly hurting the abomination, and Graff continued to keep the creature at bay, though he wasn't doing much damage. Liska took that opportunity to get the unconscious and nearly dead boy out from behind the pew and saved his life with a Cure Light Wounds spells. Though still unconscious, the boy was at least in a stable condition. By now, however, Liska, Anne, Graff, and Alcar were able to surround the skeleton, and though they didn't escape unscathed, they did finally manage to destroy the creature. At the end, it reached out to grab Alcar's neck in its last moments, but the final blow from Graff did prevent it from succeeding in doing more. Then the golden amulet around its neck melted with a shock of electricity that ran along Graff's shortsword, inflicting terrible damage to the thief. Graff falls to the floor, wounded by the fierce, ungodly skeleton's final magically induced electrical insult. Inexperienced as they all were, they had heard of undead skeletons, but this thing, whatever it was, was far from that. Thankfully, it was dead now. Or to be more technically correct, it was destroyed.
Using their remaining resources, they saved Graff, who was then able to get up and look around. (He also took that opportunity to pocket the still warm but now solidified pool of gold, a 20 GP value). Joral and Joey were too badly injured to risk further exploration, so the party had to retreat. Thus, they struggled back home to Little Falls, which was slow going, but they eventually succeeded. The only surprising development was Joey still had clutched in his little hand, a smooth, marble cylinder. Where it came from, no one knew, but Liska took charge of it.
20/19/744 A.E.
Graff quickly made himself scarce since he didn't like the events of the previous night and decided 20 GP all for himself was a pretty good haul, and he didn't really feel like sharing, anyway. EXIT GRAFFITI. Alcar also decided it best to leave since his ideas of love and beauty wouldn't be of too much value to those who thought nothing of entering graveyards at night or exploring similar awful places. The others seemed happy with the previous night's events. It all unnerved him. EXIT ALCAR.
© July of 1999
by
James L.R. Beach
Waterville, MN 56096