DreamLyrics™ Play-by-Post Forums Hall of Fame - Latest Top 10 completed games HHE: The Haunted Helm HHE3: The Invite

GM

The Issitia was moored in the azure waters overlooked by the town of Rosencliff.

It was a picturesque town, with rough-hewn stone buildings crowded on the sides of a steep ravine. A blue-green river ran out into a cove with a pebble beach at the base of a crude seawall. The buildings had tiled rooves and some were bound in a thick layer of coloured stucco, to protect against the coastal elements. Along with the many washing lines flapping in the afternoon sun, this gave the place a cheerful, flourishing appearance.

Dominating the town from above was a formidable tower with crenellated battlements and turrets, and pennants flying from the spires. The landward side was surely encircled with a defensive wall, but the town could easily defend against attack from the sea. Climbing those winding streets would be enough work without having to fight up them, and it appeared the town did have defenders.

They stood on the pier, liveried men-at-arms with brigandines and polearms, awaiting the arrival of The Issitia's longboat as it rowed in.

Amongst the occupants of that boat, some of the more observant would notice the fishing boats drawn up on shore, piled with empty mussel nets. There were only a few gulls swooping overhead, unusual for a fishing town when a boat arrived to shore. The birds were fast learners and always out for easy pickings. Perhaps pickings from the town's boats hadn't been that easy recently?

The longboat crew slowed and drew alongside the pier, and they were tied off with little fuss.

Aside from the men-at-arms, where were the town's traders to buy The Issitia's wares and sell their mother-of-pearl? At least the armed men made visible efforts to appear friendly, waving and smiling.

Master Casados huffed out his chest and raised his chin, clambering up onto the pier. The crew stayed where they were, but the passengers also disembarked.

"Captain Achelus!" Said the ship's master in a somewhat reserved greeting.

"Master Casados." Replied the Captain of the Guards. He was one of those fair-haired men whose skin seemed to the contrary, to tan a deep bronze. Perhaps late-forties, it looked like he enjoyed the local climate and had been for some time. He wore a polished breastplate for armour and carried a sword in a scabbard on his belt. A signet ring on his sword hand was engraved with the laurel, mace and sun symbol of the Order of Averness.

"Well Captain, seems we heard true, sorry to say! The briny mussels have done disappeared?" Said Casados gesturing around him to the lack of much.

"Aye, it is so. And not just for your benefit, Master Casados, the last two ships that called on us have left empty-handed.

"It's likely just a change out of their ordinary season. Even mussels have their foibles, so they tell me. A week or so and they'll be back, and we'll be in business again. You're bound for Santa Cora?"

Casados nodded, "And then back again, Captain. The Issitia's a clear water gal and no mistake, she never stays in port for long."

The Captain chuckled at the turn of phrase, "Glad to hear it! I know the womenfolk here will be clamouring for any Santa Coran dyes you bring with you.

"Anyway, come please, Tobira's opened the tavern early for you and laid on luncheon. We can talk more..."

He seemed more interested in the passengers than the crew, however, glancing at them as he spoke. Master Casados meanwhile sucked his teeth and scratched his mutton chop beard.

"Now that's an invite at least three gods I swear by, oblige me to accept! But gah, Captain, as you can see, I also bring passengers to your town, and on important business I'll wager."

"Ah, indeed, as good as it is, I doubt they'll have travelled all this way for Tobira's pastrami." The Captain said, sharing a smirk with Casados.

Casados stepped aside and the Captain stepped forward, nodding in salute to you.

"I am Captain Achelus of the Rosencliff Guard, at your service. Of whom do I have the pleasure?"

<Weston>

He didn't waste any time. He was ready for real 'ground' under foot, even if it was only a wooden pier. "Weston is the name Sir", he said as he stepped out of the long boat.

Seyja


Following Weston, haversack over one shoulder and her greataxe over the other, she stepped out onto the pier. For a moment, the non-movement of the dock felt unnatural after her days on board had accustomed her to the rolling of the water, but she quickly recovered her balance.

"Seyja Banic," she said.

Pale Dusk

The dark elf moved behind the crowd leaving for shore. He wondered if he should expect trouble. Finally he made his way down and nodded to the man at arms. He had chosen a new moniker as he couldn't remember his old. "Pale Dusk" he said with a silky voice.

Zoltan

He steps lightly onto the dock, taking the change in movement easily, like a seasoned traveler. Landing on the dock, he adjusts his hooded cloak, pulling it up further over his head and face. Shield and bow across his back, and longsword on his hip he moves up with the others.

He sees the signet ring on the Guard Captain's hand, and he carries the same symbol on his shield. although it is turned behind him at the moment.

"Zoltan Molnar, Captain. Well met."

Nestaron

"I am Nestaron, and this is Heilbutt," he said, gesturing to his companion. "We are here to serve in whatever way seems best."

[Ghosted for Khamsin]

Jex

He bowed low, sweeping off his felt cap as he did so.

"Jexric Thule, theatre della strada extraordinaire!"

Although welcoming committees of armed men usually made him uncomfortable, on this occasion he found it oddly reassuring. It said 'Someone civilised is in control here'.

[Ghosted for Gypsy]

Tindarien

He smiled at the good-natured banter and at how Nestaron's half-orc's ears pricked up at the mention of 'pastrami'. The half-orc had so far proven a willing and quite insistant pack mule, but all that muscle had to come from somewhere and he could probably, literally eat a horse.

Tindarien himself stayed at the back, scanning up the cliff and noting the layout of the town as best he could. He also kept an eye on the waters of the cove, for signs of anything unnatural.

He stepped up alongside the half-elven priest to answer the Captain, saying simply, "I'm with them."

Heilbutt

"Hail and well met." Said the half-orc bluntly. Wake Islanders were typically a stern, taciturn folk and this one was little different. His stomach grumbled, also introducing itself.

GM

Captain Achelus shook hands with Weston first and looked between him and Zoltan. A significant look that said they were expected.

But the Captain showed impeccable courtesy to the rest of the passengers, and they got the sense that he was a natural diplomat.

It made sense. A small provincial town didn't need to be ruled with an iron fist. It needed authority, yes, but also a people that felt empowered, a people who were willing and able to take care of themselves.

The Captain and the town guards wore particoloured, yellow and blue livery, and were on a whole, well turned out. They didn't look like battle-hardened veterans, they didn't look like soldiers, but they looked healthy, eager and proud of their position. They looked like they would fight for the town they were sworn to protect.

Without the mother-of-pearl, the townsfolk had little else to trade, but the longboat crew still offloaded a few bails of cheaper, perishable supplies that they hoped not to waste.

Now the townsfolk could see that The Issitia wasn't sailing on immediately, some traders came down to the seafront with handcarts.

"Hardly the Shoppe on Spar Street." Said the Captain, making a reference to the grand old wholesalers in Axis (also the secretive headquarters of the Order of Averness).

He smiled fondly, "But the people of Rosencliff are enterprising folk. The Issitia won't have completely wasted its time here. What say we get off this pier?"

[[Does anyone have any specific plans, or are they happy to accompany the Captain to luncheon?]]

[Luncheon works for D]

<Weston>

He caught 'the look' from the Captain. He was a bit surprised that that the Order would have been able to get word out to this place so quickly. But then again, perhaps it was just that the Captain had been expecting folks since he had sent word and, recognizing Zoltan's obvious affiliation, just assumed that was why they were here. Yup, it =could= be just that. He didn't think so though.

Quite ready to actually walk on 'dry land' again, he signaled his readiness to continue on into town.

Seyja


The barbarian woman looked around what part of the town she could see from the dock, but she did not seem overly interested or even, particularly, alert. The only thing that really concerned her, that she really cared about, she was sure, would make its presence known when the time came without her having to search it out.

For the nonce, she was just interested in staying alive and luncheon sounded good to her.

[Luncheon sounds fine]

GM

Captain Achelus led the newcomers down the pier and up steep steps to the top of the seawall. From there, to a seafront tavern overlooking the cove. The Issitia sat at anchor in the smooth waters under a high sun on that hot summer's day.

The tavern was called The Fat Firkin and the staff were preparing food and beverages as the group of men-at-arms, sailors and adventurers arrived. Achelus gave a roll of coins wrapped in paper to the taverner with thanks, and the group set to demolishing what luncheon was laid before them.

Hot pastrami, rye bread and jugs of red wine, followed with dried fruit. Served by the taverner's older children, there was a wholesome atmosphere to the meal that alleviated memories of the morning's attack by the undead. Portions were modest, however, to the relief of the Master Casados, and soon The Issitia's crew were engaged in lively negotiations with the local traders.

This allowed the Captain to take you on a short tour of the town and walk off your lunch. You'd be back in time to bid the ship goodbye and farewell, but for now you looked up at Rosencliff and saw narrow, cobblestone streets climbing nearly 300 feet to the tower at the top. It didn't look such a feat from the sea, or before luncheon.

Captain Achelus noticed those looks and nodded in agreement.

"I'm afraid so." He said, setting one leg in front of t'other.

At least the tall buildings created plenty of deep, cool shadows lining the street. After a while, the Captain spoke again.

"Although I'm from Axis myself, I could tell you a little of the town's history. But I think you're more interested in recent events, yes? Quite. This way!"

Indeed, the townsfolk were putting on a brave face but obviously expected things to return to normal. As with all fishing, seasonal catches varied from year to year, and inevitably some years the catches were poor, sometimes very poor.

But whilst the townsfolk would tighten their belts and purse-strings and make do, the Captain's laissez-faire attitude was only a veneer, hiding a deeper concern. He'd already sounded you out over a cup of wine, ascertaining that you were here to help. He seemed glad.

After the ascending a few tiers, about halfway up, the Captain walked over to an open brattice built into the wall and leaned there, admiring the unimpeded view out to sea. It was quiet here, no-one else around. Naturally, there were damp patches of sweat under his arms. It wasn't really the weather for walking up hills, especially not in armour.

"Ah, I'm a few pounds lighter since living here!" He said, breathing deeply, "But it makes you appreciate how formidable the guards would be in defence, walking these streets as they do, up and down, every day. The Black Salties never even tried---

"It would take a large army to conquer Rosencliff and for what? A small fishing town and a middling trade in mother-of-pearl. The one other way to take control of Rosencliff, was to marry into it and that's where our Lady Morgen comes in.

"Young for landed nobility, and I warn you now, drop-dead gorgeous; the poor old Baron never stood a chance, but I think it's safe to say he died happy.

"And to wit, Lady Morgen has proven to be a more capable leader than her husband ever was. Although Rosencliff sits almost on the Emperor's doorstep, he has little time for the provinces on the Sword Point. The coast is mostly unassailable from the sea and the sea is mostly tamed by spells of old.

"We don't contribute much in riches either. So in the eyes of the Dragon Throne, the Barony of Rosencliff is a provincial ruler of a gaggle of shellfishermen. Suddenly Lady Morgen, a headstrong woman steps forward in the role, without noble blood or any heritage to speak of, and starts making demands of the Court.

"Well, her audacity got her noticed and not a little admiration, but she still had to handle the Black Salties on her own, and they were a menace to the entire north coast."

The Captain straightens again and turns around to face you, shielding his eyes from the sun with a hand. They'd soon be tackling the rest of the ascent.

"What I'm trying to say is, the Empire wasn't much help then and I sincerely doubt it will be now. We are on our own here, so if you have come to our aid we are very grateful."

<Weston>

By the time they made it up all the steps and into the town and finally the tavern, the smell of food made him aware of how hungry he was.

The walk after the meal was welcome as well. He had brief memories of the tasty food, but mostly he had been too busy eating to really focus on the food itself. But he had been sure to compliment the staff, between bites, just the same.

He was ready for a 'break' by the time their guide paused, wiping a bit of sweat from his forehead as he gazed down to the sea catching his breath.

He listened. He could well imagine that guards ... and the residents ... would have developed pretty strong legs and stamina if they had to do much walking around here.

The 'political' discussion made his eyes cross ... at least until he got to the part about why they were here. That made sense ... not worth the 'effort' for the Emperor to protect. He didn't have much respect for the aristocracy who made their living from the hard work of the general populace ... who they looked down on.

"Well I think these people are well worth saving ... and if that also protects the rest of the land, that is good too."

Seyja


She had soaked some of the dried fruits in a bowl of the red wine and chewed on the rehydrated apples and apricots as they walked. She enjoyed the exercise after the time she'd spent on the boat.

Seyja half-listened to the captain - his discourse was too complicated to generate much interest in response, but what the human warrior said made sense to her.

She needed something to do until the events of her past caught back up with her. She nodded and gave Weston a brief smile.

Captain Achelus

He nodded at Weston's words.

"That's what it may come to, indeed!"

He gestured with his arm, down to where the blue-green river fed into the cove. According to maps, it was the River Scintilla.

"Briny mussels should grow all around the cove and the creek farther inland, from which the town gets its mother-of-pearl.

"But they've died off very suddenly, in a matter of weeks. The pier's pilings are usually an accurate gauge to the health of the stock and we've found thousands of dead mussels.

"Poisoned, by the looks of it. A shellfisherman could tell you more, but we've sent mussels and water samples to alchemists in Horizon.

"On the advice of Lady Morgen, the town's council decided to salvage what mother-of-pearl they could and hold it in reserve, at least until we know more.

"There's more to this than mussels.

"At night mermaids used to beach on the headland there and serenade us. Well yes, it was probably more for their benefit; the cove does nicely elevate voices at night. But either way, they've left and haven't come back.

Achelus resumed his steady pace up the zigzagging, cobbled street. It was very quiet at this, the hottest time of the day. They passed some townspeople, reclined under awnings, enjoying a smoke. They all smiled to the Captain in greeting but were otherwise relaxed, so it seemed he was genuinely liked, respected perhaps, certainly not feared.

"The local fowlers have found dead birds and fish farther upriver. They've even brought water back with them that's had a noxious taste. Shepherds have seen deer moving north-west en masse, leaving the river valley altogether...

"A man from Axis might know little about nature, but he does know all about polluted rivers, and I'd say that's what our problem is."

D

He listened and considered. The lunch was exactly what he had a taste for. He couldn't remember the last time he had pastrami, yet his tongue knew the flavor and required a good mustard to adorn it.

At the Captain's explanation he narrowed his eyes. It sounded like foul actions indeed for someone or something to poison an entire watershed. He remained quiet though making no verbal comments, that was for others.

<Weston>

"Then it sounds like we need to travel up the river until we can find what is causing the problem."

He looked at Zoltan to see if he was 'on board' with that idea.

Zoltan

He'd enjoyed the lunch quite a bit, the diet aboard the ship having gotten repetitive and boring after a while. He'd even had a chance to flirt with one of the serving girls, a dark haired wench named Stella. He'd made her a vague promise of visiting her after dark, if possible.

Walking up and around the town streets had been good exercise. And listening to the Captain's accounts he'd seen why he'd been sent here. It was a bit different, yet the same, as his other missions. Most of those were to root out evil of a singular nature. A person doing evil to one, sometimes a few, other persons. This was someone or something doing evil to an entire town.

He glances at Weston when he makes his comment and shrugs. He is not sure they know enough yet. But that might end up being the right course.

"So Captain, how does Sir Edward factor into this?" He asks.

Tindarien

He listens as the others talk, having nothing to contribute just now. It does seem that the river is the source of the problem but the real question is how it happened. Most likely people behind it somewhere.. perhaps the remnants of these Black Salties taking revenge?

He waits for the answer to Zoltan's question.

Nestaron did not speak, and ate sparingly. The climb did not seem to discomfit him much, and he listened intently to everything that was said. His only response was a steadily growing expression of disapproval for the state of things as the Captain described what was ailing the land.

GM

"Sir Edward?" The Captain of the Guards paused in his stride, turning to Zoltan and Weston with a raised eyebrow. "Why, we think he started it."

***

Upon reaching the top of the town, you were treated to a magnificent view of the coast, stretching out the south-west and north-east. The town seemed wider from this angle and it was amusing, looking down onto the roof terraces and seeing people asleep in hammocks or on straw mats, hats over their faces.

At this time of the year, Axis was just as hot as Rosencliff, and it wasn't cooled by a sea breeze. Yet in the city, people would work through the afternoon like slaves, in the sweat, filth and stink, and still they tended to think of rustics as dim-witted bumpkins.

Standing at the top of Rosencliff certainly put things into perspective, in more ways than one.

Crowning the town was an old keep, encircled by a high stone wall. To describe it, you would say it was tall, the wall being over 30 feet high whilst the top turret of the keep was perhaps thrice that. But if you were to walk like a ghost from one side of the keep to the next, it could only be 15 yards or so.

It was no sprawling castle or opulent palace then, but the ancient building had been renovated in the past decade. In the upper storeys there were leaded windows and crenellated battlements had been added further up, complete with machicolations. It was just about the last thing an attacker would want to see after the climb up from the beach.

Banners hung over the gates and flags flew, but there was little in the heraldry that elucidated on Lady Morgen or the town of Rosencliff for that matter. It wasn't as if the old Baron was a local, he hailed from across the sea (an Imperial dominion near Concord, according to the scuttlebutt). About as far away as you could get.

There was a guard on the parapet and two sentries on the gate, all in the Barony's livery. They raised their partisans to let Achelus and his guests through, showing surprising co-ordination and discipline, though the younger of the two's manners were so ingrained he mumbled "Hello dere!" as the group passed.

The courtyard between the outer wall and the keep was crowded with stables for horses, pens for black and white cows, a smithy, the sheds and shelves of a kitchen garden, with cats, dogs and chickens wandering about. Beyond that, a mysterious walled garden with creepers growing over the top, where a peacock stood and preened.

Following the Captain's lead, you entered the keep through an ornate archway, entered into a shadowy place that felt cool after the afternoon heat. There were servants working and chatting in low voices but no armed men that you could discern. Rather than walk through the keep, the Captain took a sharp left and led you to a narrow spiral stair in the corner.

Up the stairs and out through a stout, ironbound door into a lofty great hall, nearly 40 feet from marbled floor to vaulted ceiling and lit by high windows. There was some gold filigree on display but the owner seemed more in favour of colour, tapestries, frescos and the like. Birds sung in gilt cages around the room, and two podgy black bears lazed with each other in a patch of sunlight. Even the windows had coloured fabric drawn across them, given the light a diffuse colour.

A long table had been laid out and at its head stood a pale, bald man in plain black garb, a humpbacked old guard in brigandine armour -- probably a sergeant -- and a deeply-tanned yokel in a smock, straw hat, who leant on a shepherd's crook.

Something was piled on the table next to them, a velvet blanket thrown over it.

The Captain introduced you to the Seneschal, the Sergeant of the Guard, and to a local shepherd by the name of Irt.

"As you can see, your arrival isn't entirely unexpected, Zoltan, Weston." Said the Captain, then nodded to the rest of the party.

"And we are fortunate indeed to also have Nestaron and his followers here." (The Captain seemed to count Tindarien, Seyja and Heilbutt as Nestaron's followers.)

The Seneschal stroked his moustache, eyes narrowed, "Yet Her Ladyship has no ties to Santa Cora. She worships no-one. So I wonder who invited you?"

"We need no invite from the likes of you!" Grunted Heilbutt, asking of Nestaron, "Should I beat the snot out of him, Master?"

The Captain, diplomat though he was, was flummoxed by this, as were the other three.

"I - I meant... My - my apologies, Nestaron," stammered the Seneschal, "I meant only that I don't understand your interest.

"Jexric the Bard, but of course, Her Ladyship appreciates his work and told us he might visit this season. But a holy man, here to help? It's worrying, do you suspect something unholy is behind our troubles?"

The half-orc was still looking to Nestaron for the word, whilst D had been somewhat overlooked, perhaps his intention.

Seyja


She grinned fiercely at Heilbutt, drew her greataxe from her back and ran a thumb along the blade edge, nodding her approval at its sharpness. She moved over to stand alongside the half-orc, glanced across at Nestaron and nodded.

It was not as if this group were friends of hers - not yet - but they were not yet enemies either and, at the very least, she knew them better than any of the strangers.

Captain Achelus

His hand stayed well away from the hilt of his sword. Lady Morgen hadn't appointed him for his fighting prowess, but for his reputation as an amiable, honest constable of the peace, back in Axis.

Recovering his wits, he cleared his throat.

"You will have to forgive the Seneschal, I'm afraid. We don't get visiting dignitaries here, so he has the alarming habit of treating everyone like they're the household.

"It's really rather egalitarian when you think about it."

The Seneschal had made the common mistake of thinking that if someone was venerated in Santa Cora, the Temple City, then they must be aligned to Santa Cora. But the Priestess's only discernible goal seemed to be gathering divine magic in Santa Cora, so that meant she welcomed most holy men. It was also what made the Dragon Empire's nobles and their minions, like the Seneschal, very nervous.

Unlike the Seneschal though, Captain Achelus had assumed that Nestaron and his followers were not serving the Priestess. From what he'd heard of Nestaron, the half-elf was more of a wanderer in the wilderness, helping those in need that he came across.