[DnD] Crusader (GFF D&D Adventure 2)

Loot distributed, potion brewed

Gabriel and Argumentus look over the bounty notice. It's a hastily-drawn affair, and the heavy smudging indicates the ink was still wet when Iggy stuffed it into his pack.

The notice is comprised primarily of a detailed portrait of Lord Broden. Below the image, the notice reads:

"Represents a hindrance to my business interests. Remove him. 1000 GP reward. Half to outfit yourselves, half on completion. Bring me his sword as proof that the job is done. Discretion required."

There's no indication of who wrote up the contract. If justice is to be done before the trail goes cold, it will be necessary to get the answers out of Iggy. The young halfling is just beginning to stir. With a splitting headache and a few dozen bruises, however, he's not going to be inclined toward helpfulness.

SKILL CHALLENGE: Interrogate Iggy. Complexity 1: Requires 4 Successes before 3 Failures.

I am a dolphin, do you want me on your body?

The child was coming around and I fancied that he might know something of who was after us (This time). I crouched down in front of him and in my best and friendliest asking how a small child is feeling voice, I asked him how he was feeling and apologised for punching him in the face. And throwing ice rays at him. And killing all his friends.

Diplomacy skill in the house, get Iggy on-side, make him like us and be inclined to tell us stuff

I was speaking idiomatically.

Motsognir had recently read a manuscript about the halfling gang that Iggy seemed to belong to, and did his best to explain their cultural nuances to the rest of the group in the hopes that the increased insight might make everyone's efforts a little simpler.

History check

What kind of toxic man-thing is happening now?

The clever dwarf started mumbling about something to the others. I still couldn't understand a word he was saying of course but I had the distinct impression he was trying to teach the others about the history of this small child's family or something.

Aid Mots' history check

Most amazing jew boots

Dazed as he is, the halfling lad seems to accept Bob's apology. "Aw, don't worry about it. Y'hit like a girl anyway."

Motsognir finds that the leather armors worn by the would-be thieves are all branded with the stylized 'H' mark of Freeport's Halfling Benevolent Association, ostensibly a social club founded to protect Freeport's smallest folk from institutional discrimination. These days, of course, it's an open secret that the HBA is little more than a racially-indifferent crime syndicate that the city guard refuses to acknowledge. It's possible that Iggy, in his naivete, has accidentally bitten off a great deal more than he can chew.

2 more successes needed

What, you don't want my bikini-clad body?

I looked the child up and down, hoping to notice some form of religious symbol or other outward sign of faith, so we might appeal to his spiritual side in an attempt to get some information out of him.

Religion check

How ya doing, buddy?

Seein' as though I knew Iggy since he was knee-high to a grasshopper, I felt I had a better insight to his personality than most. I explained to the rest of the group how I came to be takin' care of him and his family, sharing a few charming stories of the time he went fishin' and took home a bigger catch than even his grandaddy Griddley, who been a fishmonger in his younger days and supposedly started a fad for coecelanth such that we done fished them all out.

Insight check

While walking down memory lane, I noticed the idiot city-lady taking a good hard look at Iggy's personal artifacts. I sure hope she was just looking for religious symbols rather than seeing what else we could steal.

assist Bob's religion check

There's nowhere I can't reach.

All this talk of history and diplomacy did nothing but infuriate Argumentus. No real answers could be worked out of Iggy without creative implementation of certain... methods.

Argumentus shoves the more diplomatic party members aside, grapples Iggy, and spins him around in the air like pizza dough.

Athletics check

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The dwarf leaned against the far wall and yawned, very tired, calling out to the boy that if he didn't start talking right quick, he was going to let Argumentus eat him.

Intimidation

I am a dolphin, do you want me on your body?

There's no outward sign that the lad associates with any deities. If Iggy has any sort of religious affiliation, he keeps it to himself. Bob's attempt to get all churchy with the kid goes nowhere.

Brigid tries to reminisce with Iggy about the good ol' days, but he refuses to have any part of it. He seems too embittered by the recent strife that caused his exodus to look back fondly on anything.

Tired of all this jabber-jawing, Argumentus hefts the lad into the air and proceeds to shake the answers out of him directly. This method seems significantly more effective, and Iggy begins babbling uncontrollably — of course, he's spinning too fast for his words to actually be understood.

Iggy knows that if the party were going to kill him, they would have done it already — but the threat of even worse manhandling by Argumentus is enough to break his will. He assents, and the fighter drops him to the floor in a trembling, sweaty heap.

"Alright, alright! What do you want to know?"

4 successes, 2 failures: skill challenge won! 150 XP (30 XP each)

I was speaking idiomatically.

"Where you fight shiny man? What you do with his body?"

What kind of toxic man-thing is happening now?

"Shiny man. I like that. He sure as hell was."

He chews his lip, knowing that his story is likely to upset the more devout among those present.

"After you left, he rode out to the cemetery. We shadowed him about a hundred yards back. Most of us stayed out of sight, but Daria — "

(he gestures at the ice block in the middle of the room)

"She stayed close, made sure we didn't lose him. Every time he turned around he saw somebody new, he never got suspicious. There was a zombie infestation; a few of the older mausoleums cracked open in a little earthquake last month, and sure enough a few of the bodies got the urge to go a-wanderin'. He cleaned that up easy enough, though, even without his fancy sword. It was impressive what that fella could do with a mace and his little dragon necklace, I ain't gonna lie."

He heaves a sigh.

"Round about the 10th zombie it seemed like he was gettin' a little tired so we decided to jump him then. I can tell you we underestimated him by a long shot. Daria ordered me to stay back with my crossbow; I was carryin' the money and we were going to split it even once we got the other half of the bounty. No sense riskin' our payday if we don't need to, she said. So me and Karl stayed back, an' ever'body else rushed him.

Eddie was on the ground with his face caved in before he could even lay a finger on Broden. Louis went down with a busted knee, and before he could crawl away the zombies dragged him into this— I don't know what to call it. The earth just cracked open like a busted melon, and this black smoke poured out. There was no fire down there, though. Just darkness goin' on forever.

Broden held up for a while after that, but between the zombies and us he got wore out real quick. Eventually Daria got her shiv into the back of his neck and that was that. At that point there was only two or three of the dead-walkers still movin' around, so we took care of 'em just on general principles. We took his little necklace and his armor — originally we were just gonna fence 'em. The bodies, well. We was already in the graveyard and that gods-damned hole seemed like an invitation. We dropped 'em in and they just disappeared. Not even a thump. I wanted to take Eddie and Louis to their families, but Daria said it was better if they "deserted". Said a thousand coins split better four ways, and who wanted to do all the bereavement paperwork?

The horse we just sent packing.

After that we went back to his house, figured he must have left the sword there. Nothin'. He didn't even have anything worth stealing. We spent about an hour shaking down the neighborhood for information until somebody pointed us to the notice he'd posted, about the wizard's place and all. On the way we ran into another crew on the same contract, and we agreed to let them make their play first. We could always jump them after. After you scattered them to the four winds we agreed to trail you until night, give us time to set up an ambush. Would've worked out perfect except for Aunt Bee bein' such a light sleeper.

I reckon that about catches us up to right now, doesn't it?"

FELIPE NO

"Who you work for?"

What, you don't want my bikini-clad body?

"It's... the contracts come from Finn at the HBA. Those of us what do the dirty work never meet the actual clients. They pay Finn, Finn takes a cut, Finn pays us. That way the trail ends at Finn if a fuckup like this happens, and Finn has the goods on every guard and magistrate in town.

I don't know who it is wants Broden dead. Only Finn knows, and he'd sooner feed you all to the sharks than break a confidence. I don't recommend you chase this any further than you have to. Finn runs the entire east side; he'll bury you if you cross him. Just deliver the sword and take the bounty. It's dirty money, but that's the only kind of coin you'll find in Freeport."

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"What other organizations may have been sent this bounty? Is the HBA the only game in town?"

There's nowhere I can't reach.

The dwarf sighed and shook his head at the news that Broden was indeed dead. It had been his idea to wait out the night and seek the man out on the morning, and he knew if he'd followed his duty, rather than his mortal frailties by giving into weariness, the man may well have lived. He may have been a follower of another god, but he was a holy warrior nonetheless, and Gabriel grieved for his loss. Reaching down to scoop up the broken remnants of Broden's holy symbol, the Paladin scowled in frustration as the shattered pieces slipped between his grasp.

Glancing up he noticed the book on Argumentus' pack, and motioning the big man over towards him asked for its usage. It seems the human building had all but forgotten its use, and was quite happy to hand over the item to the dwarf.

The book in hand, the dwarf opened it and scanned through the pages, noting some interesting bits of information concerning edible things. Finding roughly the center, he held it open and lifted the fragments of the broken dragon necklace onto the paper. Once it had been gathered completely, Gabriel stood, and paying little heed to the ongoing questioning of the halfling, moved to just outside the building's rear entrance.

Finding a small patch of undisturbed ground, he knelt and dug away an acceptable patch of earth with his hands. Inside he laid the broken shards of Bahamut's icon, pouring them out from the book. That done, he unslung his pack and pulled Broden's armour from it, as well as his waterskin, and set to the work of washing out the fallen warrior's blood from the inside of the protective shell. He let the holy symbol of Kord dangle over the liquid as he did so, he was no cleric but he hoped the Lord of Storms would recognise the gesture for what it was and sanctify the ground anyway.

Broden's blood and the symbol of his faith laid within the dirt, the dwarf glanced back into the house and sighed. He reached into his pack and withdrew the warhammer, placing it atop the other artifacts before pushing the displaced dirt atop them.

"I wouldn't have a warrior buried without a weapon, but I'm afraid your blade isn't mine to give." He patted the dirt and stood, brushing off his knees and hands. "I hope you'll understand, Lord Broden."

With that he traced the fist of Kord into the dirt and pressed his holy symbol into it. He said a short prayer to the War God, asking for him to take mercy on a lowly follower and do him the service of helping the dead man find his way to Bahamut's busom.

As he began to reorganize his pack, he halted and began peeling of his armour. Piece by piece, he adorned himself in Broden's former vestments. The transformation complete, he considered leaving the plate there, but decided it would be a fine way to repay the hulking behemoth for usage of his book. He glanced down at the small patch of fresh earth and commented:

"I can only hope Kord would favour me as he has you, and that when my time comes I will fall in battle. This is a good death. There's no shame in this; in a man's death. A man who has done fine works..."

He finished loading his pack and stepped back inside, to see what conclusions, if any, the Horde had come to.

Acquire Index of Edible things from Argumentus (okayed with Brady first)
Give up Warhammer.
Don Broden's platemail.
Keep old platemail in order to give it to Argumentus at a later point.

This thing is sticky, and I don't like it. I don't appreciate it.

Argumentus gathers all of his possessions, making sure to take the bounty notice, and leaves the warehouse to get the rest of the party to follow him back to Freeport. When he's out of Iggy's sight, he stows the broadsword in his pack and readies the warhammer. Even with his stunted sense of perception Argumentus knew the sword would draw unwanted attention.

I am a dolphin, do you want me on your body?

"Could be anybody, Aunt Bee. I can think of a dozen fellas who're going to have an easier time of it with one less Paladin around. You could probably make an educated guess, but then what? Just barge in and rough up a seemingly-legitimate businessman? It's your word against hundreds.

Anyway, now that I've failed to mug an old lady I expect I'll be givin' up the trade. My reputation's never gonna recover. I'm going someplace nobody knows me and pickin' a new name. Start a restaurant, maybe. Best of luck to the lot of you."

He tucks his sword back into his belt and clambers through a blown-out window.

"...and Bee? So long, and thanks for all the fish."

He looks to the sky, picks a star to follow, and wanders off down the road.

...

Without a body on which to perform proper rites, Gabriel does what he can to help Broden's spirit go to its rest. As he turns away to go back indoors, he hears a tiny rustling. He whips around, ready to confront what must surely be another assault — but finds only a tiny green sprout growing out of the freshly-disturbed earth. The little plant continues to grow with unnatural speed as he watches, and a bright red flower blooms. Gabriel is hardly an expert botanist, but any damn fool can recognize a snapdragon. The dwarf smiles, gives the little flower a curt nod, and heads back inside.

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It seemed as though our business here was done and I suddenly realised just how tired I was. I gathered up my pack and suggested to the others that now might be a really good time to go back to the inn and get some sleep. Hopefully finding a route that would avoid too many mugging attempts on the way.

Healing surge my way back to full health, just in case like

What kind of toxic man-thing is happening now?

The dwarf rubbed the bridge of his nose as Argumentus walked past. The big man was right; silent, but right.

"I'm with the lummox. Let's go bed down at the inn for a day. Get some rest, clear our heads, and figure out where to go next in the morning. Or after a few mornings. Need to stock up, lose some weight in our packs. Point is, this place is not where we should be."

With that, the dwarf followed Argumentus. Patting the big bastard on the shoulder and glancing up skyward as he raised the small wrist-bound beads and said a silent thank-you to Kord for listening to his petition.

FELIPE NO

Taking care to avoid the major thoroughfares, the party eventually wends its way back to their rooms at the Diving Fin. Their sleep is uneasy at best, but they awake the next morning perhaps not entirely ready for what seems to be an inevitable business meeting with the shadier citizens of Freeport, but at least relatively fortified.

I emptied all the checkboxes! That's high-quality DMin' right there.

Shin, declare your Daily and Utility spell for the day.

knk, pick a power for your ding-dang chainmail

What, you don't want my bikini-clad body?

After the Wizard and the Warlord are done dealing with their regulars, Argumentus leads the party to the HBA. The winding paths of Freeport are an oppressive maze in the steel trap of Argumentus's brain. Around every corner is the constant sense of watchful eyes boring a hole in his pack! FOUL ARTIFACT WOULD YOU KILL US!?

Jam it back in, in the dark.

I awoke feeling refreshed, the rigours of the previous day all but forgotten. Before I went to bed I had transcribed one of the rituals I had picked up at the wizard's house into my rituals book, an exceptionally useful rite that would create magic curtains to obscure the view of potential spies. No longer would my modesty be compromised when nature called during an adventure!

I packed up my stuff, leaving behind the now empty ritual book and prepared my Shield and Sleep spells for the day ahead, hoping that the day would not bring a fight against a small group of acid-weak but otherwise indestructible enemies. I joined the others for a light breakfast then we set off in search of the criminal underworld. I had high hopes of meeting some shady character, possibly with an eye patch or a weird speech impediment, controlling a huge network of criminals and other scum. I had always thought the life of a cut-purse to be quite a romantic one, full of jolly escapades and japes, staying one step ahead of the law and getting together for a rousing sing-song with my criminal cronies while we counted the loot at the end of each day. Had I not been blessed with arcane powers, I rather fancied that I might have become a highwayman or other such rogueish raconteur.

The big fellow led the way, seemingly nervous as we entered the less reputable part of town. As we went, I kept my eyes open for a costume shop, still hoping to find some face paint to really finish off my new look.

There's nowhere I can't reach.

While the group walked, Motsognir fooled around with his armor. He wasn't quite used to it yet, and it chafed him in strange ways. He tugged the side of his mail for the umpteenth time, and a small puff of confetti shot into his beard. Apparently, this was no ordinary chainmail.

Store a Bloody Ending in my magic clothing

This thing is sticky, and I don't like it. I don't appreciate it.

The group heads out for their rendezvous at the HBA. Passing through the merchant district, Bob notices Herbert's Miscellany advertising a new shipment of magical greasepaints. Worth looking into later, perhaps, should the expected cash infusion come to pass as hoped.

After a great deal of poking and prodding, Motsognir manages at last to get his armor functioning properly. He considers delaying the trip in order to comb out the confetti, but decides after some thought that it may help him to appear more fearsome.

After a good hour or so of confused wandering and harassed passers-by, the troupe arrives in the East District at what appears to be the headquarters of the HBA. A drow elf stands guard in the shade of the two-story brick edifice, leaning on the double doors and filing his fingernails with a shiv. He looks over at the party as they arrive, and his hand instinctively hovers over the crossbow strapped to his thigh.

"You look a bedraggled lot. If you're 'ere for the charity supper, it's not till dusk."

I am a dolphin, do you want me on your body?