Seb Bastenwort

414TuSeBa

Heading through the tunnels beneath the arena Seb, as he was now known as, walked at a fast pace compared to the humans. “This whole place, the mechanisms, the cells, the arena itself is all designed to hold creatures and the heroes for the show. It’s a marvel, an absolute marvel.” Seb rattled on as he pointed at different mechanisms, cages and chains.

“Todays show was something that I didn’t even want to know about. So I had my chief handler organise a surprise asset for the main event.” He scratched his well maintained beard. “But that’s where it went wrong. I can find my handler and we’ve lost the creature. I wish I could tell you what it was but I wanted it to be a surprise for me as well.”

He stopped moving at one of the cages and stood there expectantly. “Well this is it. The cage where it’s meant to be but isn’t.” He pointed at the broken chain, the ajar door and the various bits of scrap, food and mess that lay around the cage.

One thing was clear. Something large was once in here and it was loose. The party would have their work cut out for them in tracking down this creature but also, finding out how it escaped.

---

Rudy Tasslewor

413TuRuTa

Gathering around the bar the owners of the Tavern and Rudy, the barman who was unluckily the person who Ikob took drinks from all waited as the guards and the city’s watchers looked around the room. Questioning the party, several of the watchers; elite guards and spies, tried to find out what happened leading up to the death of the noble.

“So you say that you ordered the drinks and Lord Ikob Thunderdash received them instead of you. It could be something else as we have, so far, no motivation for anyone wanting to kill adventurers of little fame such as yourselves. But we will investigate the body and see if there was another source.” The Watchers were all masked and showed nearly nothing that could be tied back to who they were. However the watcher that was asking the questions was a female and sounded middle aged and local.

“Anything over there, watcher?” one of the guards called from across the room – the reply was a shake of the head. Rudy, the barman smiled weakly at the party as he walked over.

“I am sorry you got caught up in all of this. The only time I didn’t have eyes on the drink was when the old blind man needed help getting back to his table. But it wasn’t for that long and I had no idea.” He stopped and paused as he saw the look on the party’s face.

The guard approached and shook their heads as they stopped next to the party. “Well we can’t rule out it was an inside job. Ikob was a well known noble for the wrong reasons but he was nobility, after all. Even if the drinks weren’t meant for him there is no way to prove otherwise. But I would recommend that you stay safe and keep a low profile over the next few days until you leave town. Don’t go anywhere at night as the city streets aren’t patrolled as much.” the older guardsman said as he scratched his neck.

“You may also have a watcher or two posted to follow you to see if they can catch the assassin. But don’t bring attention to them. The quicker they can do their work the quicker you will be safe.”

---

The Caravaner

412TuTCa

Gathering around one of the many campfires Sal laughed and drank deeply from the Tankard she had poured herself. The Princess had brought with her several vast kegs of ale and had opened them when they stopped. The guards who were not on duty were guarding the princesses wagon, which no one had seen her yet as she remained inside her wagon.

As Sal laughed and joked with the guards several of them attempted and failed to flirt with her as she gently, generally with humour, declined their advances. A few stern looks from the caravan captains made the men move on quickly enough if they didn’t get the message. As the night went on and the feasting died down the party returned to their tents and bedrolls and soon only the occasional noise from the guards could be heard.

---

Sometime in the early morning the party woke to complete silence. Positioned not far from the princesses wagon – and thus the guards this was an abnormality from the previous few nights. But there was a feeling of wrongness that crept through the camp and across the tent as if the air itself was trying to retreat further away from some unseen miasma.

Leaving their tent and bedrolls the party looked around the camp to find that not only the camp fires had been extinguished – many with guards passed out where they sat the night before but the torches and braziers had been too. Moving swiftly through the camp after drawing and donning their arms and armour they discovered on the other side of the wagon a bloody battlefield. Bodies lay strewn about the grass and chopped up soil. Humanoids in dark leathers and clothes littered the dead guardsmen who had died in a circle in front of the princesses wagon – which stood there with its heavy set doors ripped open.

Soon people who woke in the wake of the party moving through the camp joined them and the cries of alarm drifted through the camp. Guards raced from tents, wagons and where they fell the night before to begin lighting torches and forming a perimeter as they investigated the invaded wagon. Clothing lay strewn about the floor of the wagon where cupboards had been ripped open. A small secret compartment lay chopped into and a chest lay half full of gold and jewels lay cascading down from a padded seat. 

The princess was nowhere to be found.

---

The Clawed Captain

411TuClCa

Garius stormed through the hallway with the witnesses in tow, smoke rising from his helmeted brow. It wasn’t a rare occurrence the guardsmen of Yole saw their captain mad but to see him literally fuming had many of them scarring out of the way. A woman in light armour appeared at his side, “the council have asked for a statement captain, they want to make sure that the streets are safe.” she began.

“Not now Duplicity, I am working on it. First we have to ensure that our one prisoner is safe and that we can collect statements from these bystanders.” Garius growled through his helmet. “I will deal with the council when I know where we stand. If you can show these adventurers to your office lieutenant I will be there shortly. I have a prisoner to have words with.” Garius showed the adventurers down a hallway while he descended the stairs to where the secure cell would be.

Sighing Duplicity tried to smile towards the party as she led them down the hall. Her brighter purple armour brings out the undertones of her skin. “We are a bit busy at the moment with Boraleius not being at the parade and the attack – it’s kind of rattled a few feathers so I hope you can bear with me as I ask you some questions. The Captain isn’t a bad man, there is just a lot of pressure on him to have the answers for something that should never have happened.” she continued, looking back towards the stairs he descended.

As they were shown to an office, a small one at that, Duplicity opened the door and showed them in. “Now I need you to start at the start. What did you see, when did you see it and what happened from your point of view. I need you to be specific about what you heard and saw as well as anything else.”

---

The Crakenburg Carters

410TuCrCr

Kevin looked across the tables in the Lonely Goat and shook his head at the farmers who shook with fear. “We don’t have no choice. We need to cut n’ store the wheat now,” one farmer proclaimed as he sipped on his ale. Some farmers agreed, the tired ones who spent half the night shooing the locusts from the crops to no avail. “But half the crops aren’t ready yet!” another protested which was met with cheers from other farmers.

“Mine wont be ready for weeks. If I cut them now then I wont have anything!” another said loudly which gained both ire and support from the others. “Well if you don’t do anything about it you will lose it all. Damned if you do damned if you don’t” Reeves said as he looked up from tired hands. “We have two options. Burn them out or we get the help from the druids” he continued. This drew the quiet from everyone in the inn.

“I’ll do it. I’ll seek the druids out and if they won’t help us willingly I will make them!” Kevin called out as he stood up. He had listened to these farmers for hours now and none of them were taking any action. ” Standing up he slammed his third empty tankard on the table and stormed out of the inn. A few of the others, The Crakenburg Carters, stood up to go with him and with a group of five they left to seek out the druids for help.

---

Captain of the Skipping Sailfish

409TuCaSkSa

As the fire on the beach crackled and feasted upon the dried drift wood and leaves from the large palm trees the party sat next to the sailors and watched the moonlight caress the top of the waves. As they watched a trail of lights appeared and moved under the water, through the shallows and towards the old tower.

“Ah the lights have returned, on clockwork,” the old sailor, John Buckler, added noting the party’s gaze. “Those lights are the reason we warn people from exploring the waters late at night as we can never be sure of what they might find. Lost a few passengers, and the crew mates that went to save them one night as they chased after the lights. Nothing good from lights in the dark I can assure you of that.” The captain added as he had a swig from a flask.

“What that captain says is true,” Vensella said, one of the islanders who had come to greet them, “We have lost many people from our village from chasing lights in the dark. Those belong to monstrous fish that use the lights to lure prey into the waters before they are ripped apart with vicious teeth. They are one of the reasons that we forbid our people from going to the Tower, Mellandra’s Keep as you call it.” she paused as she snapped open a crabs claw and chewed on the exposed meat.

“The other reason is the curse.” she began again.

“Now the curse is just a myth.” Jorn Buckler replied as he laughed. “To scare people from going near the tower. That’s all. All can be explained by the nature of the isle and the creatures in the water.” he finished as he threw the half of a clam shell into the fire. 

“Whatever you think, our people know it to be a curse. Those whose greed consumes them surrender their soul to the lady of greed. She is a greedy deity who takes more than she gives and in her pact, her bargain, she takes your soul and leaves you empty.” Vensella continued as she leaned closer to the fire, sticking the other end of a crab leg into the flames. 

“Whoever dies in search of their greed, of the greedy pirates treasure, has their soul lost and they are cursed to wander the isle in search of gold to sate their deities hunger.” Vensella punctuated her story with the slurp of more crab meat. 

“And they have three tentacles from each armpit, they howl at the moon like mad men and they run on their hands not their feet. We have heard the stories young Vensella.” Jorn laughed as she shot him a mirthful smirk. “But whatever the reason, fish, spook or curse don’t go chasing the dead man’s chest regardless of how many hundreds of pounds of gold lay within.”

---

Norturi of the Dead Sands

408TuNoDeSa

Norturi walked through the mudbrick buildings as she headed towards the bright building simply known as the “Den of Thieves”. Not the friendliest of names for a tavern but the food was good, the iced ale was better. Striding to the door and ignoring the drunks outside she slipped a few coppers to the guard out front. With a nod the Guard didn’t bother checking her for weapons as she entered the building that thrummed with noise.

The alcohol, smoke and aroma of grilled food mixed together a heady smell that made her mouth water immediately. Finding what she was looking for, a table of tough looking mercenaries, she strode over. Her feline reflexes made it easy to avoid the items and feet that lay on the ground. As she pulled up a chair she started with her normal introduction, her name, her profession and what she was looking for. After a few moments of discussion the group of rough individuals asked if they could confer alone. She stood up and noticed another group of adventures; outsiders from the look of it, were watching her intently from a booth nearby.

Talking to the bar she got an iced ale, a speciality from this bar where the innkeeper grabbed a nearly-frozen tankard and filled it with ale that was cooled by large copper pipes which was crusted by frost – a gnomish invention she was sure. After grabbing her cold beverage she strode back to the group and watched as they finished talking – her instincts told her that there was something funny going on. They had never been wrong before so before she sat down she announced that she had changed her mind. The group, surprisingly, smiled and agreed that the job wasn’t for them before standing up, and leaving.

The adventurers nearby however felt more safe, more trustworthy. “Hi, I’m Norturi – a studier of ancient lore and I find myself in need of an escort to where I think a lost treasure is. What say you? Are you looking for some quick and maybe easy work?”

---

Huntmaster

407TuHu

As El’thirnol watched the tavern change from silent individuals into hastily planning and scheming groups he could not help but grin. He knew that what Callum had described was a creature that lived in those mountains but it was not what he thought it was. No, it was something that El’thirnol wanted more than the floundering giants of the skies. He wanted a mighty hunting companion one which his long elven years could make good use out of.

And so the hunt was on, to bring back the eggs that would hopefully spawn creatures he was seeking. But as he watched several groups leave and sporting weapons that were not conducive to the mountains he had his doubts. Callum was holed up with a few of the village folk who adored him and believed his stories. However even the elven huntmaster could see that they would be trouble. Besides the idea of paying gold to the man and his rag-tag group of sellswords didn’t sit well with El’thirnol

Behind him he could almost sense that the old elf was plotting something. Callum was used to twisting tales of his exploits to get what he wanted but being confronted was something new. He had boasted of his prowess in front of the elf before but this was the first time that the old man had been riled up about it. Something was not right here and Callum was going to prove the elf wrong.

The people around him were his fans, sellswords like himself who were spoiling for a good fight and adventure and better yet, they knew the mountains. With this group by his side he wouldn’t have to retreat before confirming the kill; like last time, instead they would be able to confirm that the job was done and get paid by that high and mighty elf.

Standing up he and the members of his team went off towards his lodge. There he would get the gear they need to ascend into the mountains and complete this challenge before anyone else.

El’thirnol watched the members of the groups leave until his eyes fell on another group. Adventurers from out of town it would seem. Approaching he sat down next to them and began introductions. If he could convince another group to get involved he could increase the chance of success for the safe arrival of the eggs and his future.

---

Bartenders and Bouncers

406TuBaBo

As the frothy ale spilled into the tankard he grabbed some spices from a nearby small pouch. Sprinkling in the ‘additionals’ Skarldeg passed the ale over to the patron who smiled broadly and took it over to his table. The Rusty Pitchfork wasn’t as fancy as some of the other establishments in Hawks Creek but the half-potion-half-ale’s that he served made it a regular for many locals and visitors to the city.

Noticing Tilly sitting by herself at the window and gazing sadly out in the direction of her home, Skarldeg sighed. Now Skarldeg was by no means the best business man but he was also far from being the worst. Grabbing a wine, the only one he had – a fine vintage by his own taste buds but he was not known for being a wine aficionado – he looked over the various pouches he had until he found what he was looking for. The powder from the root of a certain lily, one that helped ease the mind and its tension. Sprinkling in just the right amount he placed it on a wooden board and turned around to talk to his cooks through an opening in the wall. 

Moments later he was grabbing food from the kitchen, and his cooks quickly bustled to meet his requests. Satisfied about the combination of meats and vegetables he then carried over the plate of twice cooked mutton, mushrooms and creamed root vegetables to Tilly.

Tilly stared out the window in the direction of the still smouldering corpse of her dream. The fires of the Gilded Lily had been put out but the Inn and Tavern was not saveable. She had worked for over a decade to get it to where it was, a place of fine food and finer wines. “May I interrupt?” Skarldeg spoke from close by – but not to close. Tilly wiped away a tear that had snuck out unbidden and smiled up at her rival. Skarldeg wasn’t just a businessman he was also a trained apothecary. Blending his love of drinking and fine foods with his skilled knowledge of plants and minerals.

“You must be wondering what I am doing here still, huh? The famous Tildra Hillcrest taking pity from the mighty warrior and medicine man turned tavern-keep.” Tilly said with a smile. She knew that Skarldeg had a kind soul and she noticed the steaming food and goblet of wine. “You’re not trying to finish a job are you and fully take out the competition are you?” her question was met with a boom of laughter from the half-orc.

“Alas I am not smart enough for that. Just the daily special and my Lily-wine for someone who is down on their luck. I thought you may want something to temper the mind tonight is all.” he grinned as he slid into the chair opposite her. “Besides, it’s the ale that’s poisoned, not the wine” he said as he leaned back. Several patrons nearby spat out their drinks and looked mortified at the half-orc before he laughed again. Skarldeg had a rough beginning in the city but his personality and that booming laugh had won over the locals. Several at which laughed at his joke can toasted the burly tavern keep.

“Please. Enjoy. It’s not as good as what you serve but it will keep you fighting fit and help. But it’s better when its warm.” he urged her as he grabbed a mushroom from her plate and chewed on it thoughtfully. Tilly sat and ate the meal which was twice the serving size of her place, well what was her place. As she sipped on the wine she had to fight to hide the look on her face as the tang of the red wine slapped her like a physical blow. But the underlying botanical flavour; the lily powder, gave it a sweetness that she could feel soothed and calmed her. “You’re right. It’s not the same as what I used to serve. But it’s not bad, Skarl.” she said as the half-orc reached behind him to another table and grabbed a loaf of bread from a vacated plate.

“But its better than what the Gilded Lily will make from here on out.” she added with a sigh and returned her gaze to the window.

“Tilly, you remember when I first created the Rusted Pitchfork? That was the third business that I had tried to create here. The first was a store produce – but the markets were too fierce of competition. I then turned it into an alchemical supply shop, but after the sabotage and blackmail when I refused to reveal what was in my healing potions I had to close shop. But before I created this I could be found under every table at closing call, passed out. It took me a while to get to where I am now and I had some crushing lows.” he said, but as she looked at him funnily he winced. “Look, I am not good at this. I don’t mean to gloat but what I am trying to say is that you’ll be right. You’ll rebuild and bounce back. And the person who burnt down your place better hope the guard finds them before I do.” he said with a deadly serious look. “Stay as long as you please. I always have room for friends down on their luck.”

Outside of the Fatty Pheasant Gareth stood in the chilling evening. As the hired guard for the establishment he was paid well to keep an alert eye on the patrons, both current, prior and potential. As he scanned the street and smiled at those who walked towards the door he took note of any weapons, concealed or apparent and reminded them of the policy of the tavern – weapons at the front door.

Most if not all smiled and did as requested but the occasional noble born scoffed and refused before being barred from entry. They all complied in the end. Gareth was nearly seven foot with muscles to spare and a stare that had stopped hungry wolves in their tracks when he had been a guard for the barges.

Looking over at one of the windows he noticed a human walking slowly toward the window before stopping a few feet away. The bustle within and at the front door made him snap back to the task at hand as he was summoned to ask a noblewoman; it was always a noble, to leave quietly. After escorting her and her henchmen to the door, giving them their weapons before giving them a kinder farewell than what they deserved, he noticed the owner, Karl, was pointing at the figure near the windows.

Sighing he approached the cloaked human. “S’cuse me, you can’t just stare in the window. If you want to eat or drink, come to the door and we’ll find space.” he said as she walked closer. The human didn’t respond and just continued to stare. “Hey buddy, I said…” he began to repeat as he grabbed the man’s shoulder and turned him to look at him. Gareth was greeted by pale white eyes before the flash of magic illuminated the wooden building, his dark leather armour and the man’s lifeless face.

---

The Avermeet Guard

405TuTAvGu

As Kirili walked back to the village with the suspected poachers in tow she watched how they walked and listened to them. Admittedly they did not appear to be poachers and some of their story rang true. But the orders were clear, bring anyone in who is trespassing and then the head of the forest can question them.

Kirili noticed more traps and tracks along the way, a snare here, a pit there and evidence of cages being moved and dragged. The poaching had been going on for months now and certain species of animals were favoured above others. She just hoped that they could stop it soon before the damage to the population was irreversible.

Bareth strode behind the prisoners and watched her captain, Kirili, engaging in talks with them and grimaced. As far as she was convinced these poachers were going to be executed. They were basically caught red handed and were trying to deflect blame. She had to do something about it so that the reputation of Kirili and the Avermeet guard would not be tarnished as soft.

When they next stopped she grabbed one of the messenger hawks that they travelled with and quickly scrawled out a note to her uncle, the advisor to the lord.

“Prisoners in tow, poachers. They appear to have some sway with the captain. Be alert“

As she tied the message to the hawk and let it fly off a suspicious glance was sent her way from Kirili which she returned with a smile as she fetched some rations and gave it to the prisoners with a false smile. “Eat up now, we will sort out this mess once we get back to the village” she explained to them. Stealth and misdirection was one of the arts that the Fey taught the guard and she had always been a dutiful student.

Soon she would see these poachers behind bars or swinging from ropes and she would be rewarded. For really, only those who are focused in the cause of protecting the woods should be granted the name of the Avermeet guard.

---