IC Area - Chapter Four - "High Seas Gambit"

[cupboardgnome]

Firdle casts Oh Go Away, targeted at the horse
Target(s) flee if their individual MR < caster’s IQ+LK+CHR [52]. Rated foes flee if IQ+LK+CHR < caster’s IQ+LK+CHR.

[nialldubh]

Klarrrrchur Deathaxe:

The Dwarf races after the rider roaring his rage, “coward, deceiver, black heart slim of worthlessness. Stop and fight me!”

Actions:

Actions of Dwarf... Run till he can catch a four legged horse with his short Dwarven two legs.

OOC: Good plan Cupboardgnome, hopefully we can trap him/it in plaza and net him (if militia have a net?)...

[apn]

Will leaps in the path to the side of Klemitz, wielding his sword and about to thwack at the horse!

OOC 10AP for Will (87AP) 2AP for Firdle (431AP 19/22 Wiz)

Meanwhile Firdle forms the image of a rune in his mind, speaks words from a long dead language and waves his hand dismissively at the horse whilst he whispers "oh go away!"

The effect is dramatic. The horse, spurred on, suddenly rears, eyes wide and nostrils flared! The Sergeant and Will move in as the 'Captain' tumbles off the back and rolls smoothly to their feet... then has to dodge the horse as it screams and sprints past him ... back towards where Klarrrrchur and the militia are sprinting from!

The 'Captain' glances around, pulls a dagger out... and something else. "Curse you!" it hisses, and transforms...



EDIT OOC Courtesy of cupboardgnome top job

OOC Any excuse to wheel out classic art I'm sure all of us (or at least the Brits) are familiar with. Ignore the woodland setting - I don't have time to pick around the picture in paintshop to superimpose on a cobbled street background, sadly...

With three skilled warriors closing in and a small army of militia following up, the shapechanger tosses something onto the ground... and a cloud of blue smoke billows outwards and upwards!

"Back!" yells Klemitz. "It might be poisonous!"

The boiling blue smoke cloud spews upwards for a few moments, and starts to drift out in all directions...

Klarrrrchur, Fotheringay and half a dozen militia arrive at the end of the street but the blue cloud is now 10' x 10' x 20' high and spreading...

"What IS that?" splutters Fortheringay.

The galloping of hooves behind causes heads to turn. "Stay back until it disperses! Be ready for anything!" growls Franick. Despite being unarmoured, dressed in tight breeches, knee high boots and white blouson, the Captain looks ready for action with a sabre and short sword drawn. "Report Sergeant!" he hisses.

"Reports that you... errr... the shape changer wanted out through the North Gate sir, despite the 3 bell toll lockdown signal. Them on the gate were alert and stuck to the drill. We got here in time to chase this thing down."

"Extra rum rations for the north gate guards when they are off duty tonight Sergeant. We'll see what's in the pot for a bonus." said Franick, prowling about like a tiger at the edge of the smoke though careful not to go in. He thrust his sword in. It came out shining, but otherwise unharmed. "Not acidic it seems..." he muttered.

Klemitz, on the other side of the smoke barks out "Stay indoors!" to local residents wondering what the noise was about. Then he bellows "Smoke's clearing!"

With weapons ready the Delvers and Militia were poised... only to see some raggedy clothing on the floor, a stilletto, belt pouch and a small black sack similar to the one hooked through Klarrrrchurs' belt.

"The plant! Where is it?" hissed Klemitz.

There was no sign of the Shapechanger...

[houndle]

Will Darness
Will looks round carefully to see if any of the guards has a doppelganger.

 "Has anyone got a long spear?" he calls. "See if you can drag that sack clear of the smoke. It might contain something useful."

He ponders the strange coincidence of a shape shifter having access to the same sort of magical item as the Urucks employed in the jungle. " I wonder if shape shifters can transform themselves into the likeness of anything? Like a small bag, say? We'd be in trouble if this one could do a Slyclaw, and then transform itself into a dragon! "  Will wishes he hadn't had that last thought.


ACTIONS
Try to retrieve the sack whilst looking out for enemies.

[cupboardgnome]

Firdle



Quickly casts Oh There It Is and scans about for the beastie.

[nialldubh]

Klarrrrchur Deathaxe:

“Blistering barnacles,” curses Klarrrrchur, “where is the wretch?”

Still, he stands close to Firdle in case the Lizard-man realises his truth enemy is the wizard that might reveal is position at any moment. He patrols the wizard in case he collides with the creature if it comes close.

Actions:

Actions of Dwarf... Observe the street, looking for claw-prints in the mud and other substances...

Nialldubh rolls 2d6 = 3 +4 = 7 (I not add attribute. Not sure if it LK or IQ etc.)

[apn]

The blue cloud dispersed. There was a strange smell to it and anyone who got a whiff was wise to stay away.

Will called a Militia man over with a spear. The man glanced at Fotheringay and Klemitz for a nod, got one, and came over.

Klarrrrchur scoured about whilst Firdle cast his spell. There was nothing to find on the hard cobbled street. The fall must have hurt the creature because there was a splatter of dark blue blood across where it had rolled to its feet smoothly following the unexpected dismount.

"What took you?" growled Franick. The Captain marched over. "Have you..." he glanced at the delvers "All be rolling in tar and shyte?" He pulled a face and added "Where's the plant? We need to get it to the witch."

Will, with the spear, hooked the sack and dragged it away from the last vestiges of the blue cloud. Fishing inside, he brought out... a potted plant. The potted plant. Whether he handed it over to Franick given what happened last time though...

Firdle looked around. Nothing appeared to light up purple. It was as if the shape shifter had vanished, or was immune to the spell, or the spell wouldn't work as he hoped without some modification.

Klemitz strolled up. "Miladdo ere thought that the 'shifter was you. 'Ave ta say, pretty convincin' sir."

"To look at, perhaps." growled Franick. "How was it's mannerisms? Behaviour? Voice?"

Come to think of it the false Franick had been much friendlier and approachable than the real one...

"We got some lads ta question." said Klemitz. "I'll take a few o the rough arses of our lot and let em soften these guys up. Don't think we'll get much though. Typical 'ired 'elp. Communal brain cell shared 'tween 'em an' that."

"Toss them in jail. Tell them one of them talked and the rest are to hang." said Franick.

Fotheringay paled. "Sir, surely that's not..."

Franick quietened the Sergeant with a glance "... and... let them know that the gallows man is busy enough, and some might be spared if they cooperate. That should loosen tongues. Any hard men? Sell 'em as ships oarsmen, funds to the militia retirement and benevolent fund. Make sure they are branded as pirates. Same punishment as anyone with the brand if they return. They swing."

"Klemitz!"

"Sir!"

"The plant. Let's be at it." growled the Captain. "Someone shut the d**n bells up too. What was in that booze last night Klemitz?"

The burly Sergeant shuffled about with a queasy grin.

"Never mind. You three! With me." he said to the Delvers. "Gather the 'shifters stuff into the sack, we'll check it out after. Rathmere is dying and this plant will - perhaps - save him."

The Delvers glanced about. People were out and about now, looking with curiosity at the proceedings and pulling faces if they moved too close to the Delvers, who stank. A call went out, then a single, then double, then single gong rang out. It was repeated all over the town the once, then finally went silent.

"Thank the gods for that." growled Franick, clearly not a morning person.

OOC Go with the Captain I assume?

[cupboardgnome]

Firdle follows the captain, muttering his frustrations at failing to detect the shapechanger.

[nialldubh]

Klarrrrchur Deathaxe:

Joining the march, Klarrrrchur turned to Firdle. “He probably ran for it as the blue smoke billow, invisible-like and is hiding in a hovel. If he could have conjured a cloud to fly oot the city, he would not have made such a charade of his exit attempt!”

The Dwarf would be glad for a rest as soon as they get the plant to Rathmere.

Actions:

Actions of Dwarf... Jogging alongside horse and ponies?

[houndle]

Will Darness
Will follows the others muttering under his breath. His coating of ordure was honourably won and the comments of certain stick-in-the-mud city types is beginning to rankle. Will nearly stuck in the mud himself.

[apn]

Muttering and glancing back at the dispersing blue cloud - with a guard or two stationed there to make sure no one approached it until it had vanished - the Delvers trudged through the streets following the Militia.

"Good work you lot." muttered Klemitz. "Franick is a miserable so and so but he was really rootin' fer you three. You got th' plant 'ere in a roundabout way. That... 'shifter will turn up again, have no doubt. Not th' last we 'eard o that."

About fifteen to twenty minutes later with the streets pretty busy now with shoppers and traders, all of whom wanted to give the trio of smelly Delvers a wide berth, the group pushed and shoved its way to the dock area and the jetty that the old witch called home.

There, even more crowds gathered. The men looked like merchants, the women dressed in functional clothes and most wore weapons openly. Freebooters, corsairs, pirate hunters? Whatever, they were crowding the jetty and the few militia there strained to keep them back. There must be dozens of them here.

Fotheringay explained. "When news of Rathmeres' injury spread, the place started to fill up with ship captains. All of them, it seems, either owe or are owed by Rathmere. Even those owed have an interest in seeing him recover, other than financial. The man is, it seems, the glue that binds the financial activity and functionality of the crews and ships here in Jepistra."

"Too much power fer one man." muttered Klemitz. "An' we 'ad no idea till someone tried ta kill 'im. Ees got all th' details o various deals an' trade good transfers in 'is 'ead. So... that merchant there.." he pointed at a fat fellow in fine silks and an ermine cloak "Might have silks, spices, trinkets an' fancies that will sell to Sonan Ie. It makes no sense fer that ship ta trek all th' way there an' come back empty, or set up deals an' wait ta fill th' ship up. What happens is, Rathmere sets up a system where th' crew from one boat swaps wi' another an' money changes 'ands an' all these cogs o ships slot together an' everyone makes a pot o cash."

Fortheringay added "More than that. Rathmere has organised the fleets in such a manner that the Pirates are struggling to either catch the trade ships or encountering them when they are gathered in large groups, or he arranges fer Pirate Hunters to be in gun range. We had our suspicions that he was still mixed up in Piracy but there's no doubt. The Pirates hate him, view him as a Turncoat. He has no shortage of enemies who want him dead."

"Huh." grunted KLemitz. "Clear the way there! CLEAR ASIDE OR HEADS GET CRACKED!" he roared. The merchants and Captains on the jetty reluctantly parted for Klemitz, Franick the Militia and the Delvers.

Near the mess of crates, tents, upended boats and trash was the witches hovel. A fairly large exclusion zone was set up there, though not through any conscious thought. None wanted to incur the wrath of the witch.

Closer, Klemitz and the militia paused. He handed the sack over to Franick. "That's far enough fer me Cap'n." said the tough as nails Sergeant. "Ain't takin' another step, e'en you order it."

Fortheringay blushed. "I'm, ah, happy to guard out here sir."

Franick shook his head, fished the potted plant out and flicked his head. "Come on you three." he said to the Delvers.

Ducking into the tents the four saw the same mess of jars, bottles, boxes, junk, body parts, books, trash and more where the witch resided.

"Took your time..." rasped the ancient crone. "Knew you were coming though." she cackled from the adjacent tent. "I could smell you coming." she laughed.

Ducking into the next tent Franick pulled a face. Rathmere was on the cot bed and white as a sheet save for the veins under his skin which were black. The foul crone knelt next to him and hovered hands over his body. Where the black veins seemed to spread, she would move a hand over, mutter, and the black would retreat some.

"Pluck the petals, crush them up and put them into the cauldron." hissed the crone who was clearly concentrating. A cauldron bubbled with a green soupy liquid which hissed smoke every few seconds as it boiled over a fire. "Then fish out a ladle and pour the mixture down Rathmeres' throat." she hissed at Franick.

As he was doing that he muttered "Why make a cauldron full of the stuff? Is he going to drink it all? Also, why did you order three tubs filled with hot water? They should be ready by the way."

The crone cackled. "Remember what I said...?"

OOC Chapter One, Page 7...

"In the jungles a days ride from here is a temple long overgrown and forgotten, claimed by nature. There where sunlight is fierce but jungle rain runs pure and unending is a plant that grows which can cure this poison, aye and many others. It has Blue, Purple and Yellow flowers on it and spiked leaves. When crushed, boiled and added to jungle water that sired it, the plant will save Rathmeres' life." a pause then "It's also not bad for boils and gets stains out that nought else will touch."

"Nothing else will shift those stinky stains on this hapless trio. Still, Will Darness got his sword and armour... and some bones to bury... and Firdle got his dagger." cackled the Witch.

"That axe though..." muttered the witch. "I had hoped those accursed weapons be lost to time. Klarrrrchur, that will be the best weapon you ever wield, but mind you have a care with it. To get the best out of it, it wants something from you. After that... all it will want is the blood of your enemies, and you'll drown in that. The Axe will cut through anything, given enough time to taste the blood it craves."

"I'd almost forgotten the Young Princess. Elethiran Shir'Taan. Probably not so young now, though she is Elvish and never seems to age. She must have taken to you Will Darness, to gift you a Mythral sword... rare they are too. Give it the magick it craves and the blade will cut true."

Franick scowled, glancing at the trio and proceeded to pour the liquid into Rathmeres' mouth. The stricken once Pirate coughed, then his eyes opened! The black veins under the skin started to recede immediately! The crone sighed and sat back, still on knees. "It's done. The poison will recede now." She turned to the trio of Delvers. "Now off with you three and bathe! Come back when you don't stink! I dare say Rathmere and Franick will want words, as will I!"

Franick scowled, then nodded. "Nothing remains a secret from you, does it witch?"

"I see too much... and not enough." she mutters, painfully climbing to her feet and moving to the cauldron, taking a sip. A boil on her chin recedes to nothing!

OOC Go for your baths and come back?"

[houndle]

Will Darness
For some reason Will is still suspicious.

 "Maybe best if we bathe one at a time, with the others keeping an eye on the kit," he considers. " I hope acknowledged heroes get a discount at the bath house 'cos I'm skint! "

[apn]

The witch cackles. "There are no shape shifters here boy." she hisses.

"You were right not to enter the blue cloud." she says, sipping at a cup of the cauldron goop and pulling a face. "A small glass bauble full of the smoke the shape shifters breathe from the fiery mountains where they origin, belched from far under the ground. Poison it is, and will stick to ya lungs worse'n that Dhesiri muck sticks to you. Consume you over time. They breathe it in to expand their abilities."

Franick scowled. "Explain."

A wart shrivelled and dried on the crones face, dropping off. There was an immediate flurry of activity on the floor as a rat, snake, spider, several beetles and a horde of flies made a dash for it.

"The blue smoke from their home land allows them to change even further, breaking the bounds of humanoid form. Chances are that 'shifter flew off as a mosquito, or fly. Something hard to see and hidden by the smoke. They'll pay for it though. You don't have to worry about that one for a sixnight or so."

Franick huffed, then turned to Will and the Delvers. "After you have bathed - and you need have no fears Mr Darness, for I shall post a guard with you - I would want words, to offer you a proposition."

"And I would have words..." cackled the witch. "You've proven capable of upsetting the fates."

She reached into the folds of her rags and pulled out a pouch of something. Reaching in with shaky fingers she sprinkles a pinch of something into the cauldron goop.

Scooping a ladle full she turned to the Dwarf. "Drink. It will heal your ills."

OOC Firdle is on 7/12 Con, Klarrrrchur on 15/34

"I need certain other... ingredients... for my magicks. My agents can get some. You can get others... and it will not interfere with the plans that..."

"Cough!" Eyes turned to Rathmere on the cot, eyes open and breathing deeply. "By all that's unholy and not." he rasped. "A drink!"

Franick glanced at the cauldron, raised an eyebrow. The witch shook her head and reached into the folds of her rags again. She came out with a silver hip flask. "Normally for ... medicinal purposes... you understand."

Rathmere unstoppered it and took a slug. "By the gods! What is that? It's.. more potent than a well aged Khazan red!" he gasped. Then he took another slug and wiped his mouth.

"My thanks, Delvers." he said, easing to sit up. The trio could see weight had fallen off him, with his ridiculous bright and fine clothes hanging from his frame. "You saved my life, and I shall reward you. However... dark forces are afoot, and the game is only just starting." He coughed again composed himself. "Jepistra is in danger of being annexed. The riches and power that flow through this place have been eyed up by Jepik and others. There is more happening here though."

He stood, painfully rolling his neck and looked down, tutting at the sweat soaked clothes he stood in. "Rathmere the ridiculous? The Ragamuffin more like. I shall remedy that. In the meantime..." he turned to the witch who feigned a look of innocence then sighed. She fished into her robes and plucked out a bulging velvet pouch.

Firdle frowned and glanced at his own poop stained and plastered robes. How was the witch fitting so much in there...?

Rathmere spoke on. "My monies are tied up in boats, crew, holdings and goods. I do keep some small change though, for purchasing trifles and such."

"Huh!" barked Franick. "You bought a ship the other day with coin from that pouch. Trifles you say?"

"I'm a rich man... on paper Captain." explained Rathmere. "Paper can burn or soil, or simply be ignored. These..."

The former Pirate held in his palm three gemstones, red, blue and green. "One each, my thanks for your service. There's more, but it comes at a price. You can find the jewel dealers on Sparkle Street not two shivers of the sundial away. You'll pass through on the way to the baths. Tell whomever you exchange to that the gem is from Rathmere."

OOC Make your choice, a gemstone each!

[cupboardgnome]

Blue!

[apn]

OOC When you have chosen a colour, roll #3d6 (TARO) for me if you will. If you TARO and get 19+ roll #3d6 (non TARO) and we'll see what the Gem is worth and whether it has any special properties.

REMEMBER! What something is worth, and what you will get for it, are two different things! It would be a fool of a trader who pays what something is worth because they won't make any money!