01/01/745 A.E. Continued: Around 3 p.m.
The gardens of the General-Knowledge Sage, Pierce, were extensive indeed. He must do well enough for himself to maintain such a place. This was true, as his general-knowledge status did draw in more than 10 times the number of customers a specialist sage might have, though he also could only charge 1/10th their lofty prices (or less). Fortunately, he was one of the few GK sages who lived within half an hour's walk of Alodar's Northern Gate. Thus the sage was fortunate in that regard, and it never hurt that he kept up his contacts with the local bars and inns, not to mention the imperial guard, getting even more traffic directed his way than most GKSs. Still, all told, he might have only 30 to 40 customers a year, and each one was an important part of his income. Pierce was rather happy then that this year he obtained his first customer right away, on the High Holy Day itself. He had expected it might be a folar or better before business picked up, and returning from worship in the rain that morning did not incline him to believe he'd have visitors anytime soon. But the garden did need the rain, and his rainwater storage tanks to maintain the garden in drier months could always use some more life-sustaining water, so he was not unhappy.
Pierce closed the journal of one Sir Gerald Cumferance, pleased with himself for gleaning a fact or two that had apparently escaped the young band of adventurers, and also, since he knew a little of the infamous wizard Mireus, that might make his knowledge valuable enough to these new comers that they'd happily pay. A happy customer is a repeat customer, he knew, and word-of-mouth was the best advertising.
Pierce had been young when Mireus ran rampant, somehow avoiding the detection of the Alodarian Empire and maintaining his head, even with a 10,000 GP price on it. As Pierce's aging hands closed the book, he knew the signs of 50 years showed upon his form, and he once again briefly envied the elven race their longevity. But back to the matter at hand, now, at least, there was hope this old story he had heard as a young man would finally bear fruit. Too bad he couldn't collect the old reward, but the reward was no longer posted, as it was 50 years since any had seen the wizard so he had long been assumed killed. This journal seemed to finally bear that out, as well as mark Sir Gerald Cumferance for the wizard's last accomplice. "Sigh," if only Pierce had known all this 50 years earlier, he'd have been set up for life. (Right! like he could bring in a mage; alas, even sages can dream).
"I can help you, but the price will be 15 GP," he had told them, to which they immediately agreed, paying the sage his needed cash for his gardens and livelihood. He smiled at the small 15 coins that Liska doled out, looking at the standing image of the emperor, Philippe Montrose, on the back of each one. Relatively new money, he thought, and certainly not from some old hidden cache. Not that this proved anything, but it was frequently the case more seasoned adventurers would often have older coins bearing the image of emperors long past, almost as if those coins had been laying around in some long forgotten chest. He smiled to himself, knowing full well he'd probably see these people again, and if all went well, they might bring him older coins too. That could be worth something beyond their face value, so often the older the coin, the better. Not that everyone knew or appreciated that fact, so rare coins also sometimes supplemented the sage's income.
"The journal indicates that Sir Gerald almost drowned while crossing the White Water River at night. Only one of these two points is on a side of the river opposite the north gate of Alodar, so it must be that one," he smiled at Anne and Liska as they looked at each other stupidly, as if they should have seen that themselves. "That will cut down your search time in half. But Gerald's estimates must be rough, and rounded off to the nearest mile, so you could be half a mile off just for that, and they certainly are not likely to have been straight line distances, either, so you may have several square miles to search when hunting for a hidden entrance. It won't be easy, and it probably won't go quickly, either." Pierce unrolled an older map he picked up over thirty years ago in Pedas. It was written in Mostoli, the language of the dwarves, and had been compiled by a dwarven survey team for purposes of cataloging mineral sites. The map indicated, amongst other things, where one might find sand or rock quarries, or even natural cavern formations, but it was rather vague as well and not as specific as he would have liked. "If they built this stronghold under the wind swept sands, you will be looking for a sand quarry, or gravel, or perhaps even stone of some sort. Look for this quarry-like feature in that general area, as 'wind swept sands' will be your guide to the right location."
Maarik continued to rest outside, listening to the songbirds, many of which were now using his still form as a perch. He wondered how many he could get to land on him, but eventually he needed to stir to attend to an unbearable itch. Only a yellow and blue songbird remained after that, but it seemed unafraid and perfectly content to stay atop his shoulder.
Tuall continued to look the place over, perhaps wondering if it would be worth returning sometime in the night.
"Mireus, it seems, had a bad reputation for some nasty magical tricks and traps he developed, but that is all I know of that. I recall he was born in a very small hamlet called Rosewood, but his talent soon brought him to Alodar, and his inclination toward wickedness soon made him a wanted man by the empire. By then, unfortunately, he was somehow protected by powerful magics to ward off detections of a magical nature, and these sorts of people are exceedingly hard to track down. No one knew of this stronghold until now. And as is the custom, I will refrain from telling anyone for up to one year. After that, it will pass into public domain, as we sages call it, and I may sell it to another. Unless you return and pay a 'silence' fee to extend that time, but not to fear, for even after a year I'd only likely share this information with others if you all should disappear, mysteriously never to be heard from again." Pierce wondered why more people didn't offer him 'silence' fees to extend the year of silence, but this group had a year to decide, so he let it pass. Fortunately, one of last year's previous customers had extended his silence on a matter for 250 GP. Pierce hated not sharing information, being naturally talkative about his knowledge on a great many topics, but when paid one of the standard fees set by the sage's guild, he was professionally obligated not to disclose that information for a set period of time, or if paid enough, ever. Oh well; though any adventurer worth his salt may have wished to know that secret, it had nothing to do with Mireus or this situation, so he brought his thoughts back to the present.
"Won't you all join me in a small toast," asked Pierce, "to celebrate your up coming adventure?" - not to mention his own sale of information. "I have some rose wine; a bottle of 14, so it's not too bad." He uncorked the bottle of rose wine from 714 A.E. "Only 31 years old, but of good vintage." Such a bottle might cost a few hundred silver pieces, but he had purchased hundreds of them long ago when they were still not too expensive and laid them down in his cellar. He usually shared such a bottle with new customers, and also with a good sale, and this was both. He looked at the twenty bottles on his shelf from last year, which he had yet to remove. An odd bookkeeping method for a sage, but it worked for him. He'd have to clear those off after his guests left and start again with this new bottle, which would represent $1,500 for a few hours' work and the beginning of this year's income. He smiled to himself again as he filled the glasses of all who wished to partake, offering vodka and water to those who preferred that. "To your success," he said, raising his glass, and most of the adventurers, if not all, drank to their success.
NOTE: I often mention the value of some items or services in terms of $, or dollars. It turns out $1= 1 SP, so those are interchangeable expressions. Yeah, a silver piece is worth about a buck in this system, or one U.S. dollar in buying power. And FYI, as many things adventurers do are usually measured in GP or gold pieces, that is the standard, even when more mundane concerns are better measured in dollars or silver pieces. However, clearly adventurers are, or quickly become, millionaires by many common people's standards. But then, their equipment, training, spells, magic research, and magic items, often cost millions, if not tens or hundreds of millions. One important service, you may note, is the standard cost on this world of a Raise Dead spell for a person in good standing with the church or deity providing the service. This fee is a standard 5,000 GP, or half a million dollars. Adventurers often like carrying a gem worth exactly that, or a note indicating their wishes to be taken to a particular church where they have previously placed such a gem or that amount in the church's safekeeping, to be brought back from the dead should another adventurer happen upon their dead body and return it to the church so mentioned in the note, or indicated by any religious markings they may have on their person. It's a professional courtesy to do this for a fellow adventurer, of sorts, and often there is a substantial reward, as well as gratitude by the church for the return of one of their faithful. Not that everyone is so moved to grant the last wishes of some people. But that's another matter.
Lest anyone think magic like that is free or common and should be distributed to the masses, know well that without that sort of donation toward the church, or the Gods, such considerations will not be given lightly, the church thinking instead for the vast majority that the next step into the afterlife is not something to be feared so much as embraced and part of their God's plan for them. Mostly, only exceptional people (like adventurers) feel the need to come back to the world of the living so they may yet increase in power (on their chosen path of life) and might yet significantly contribute even more to the cause of their deity than they already have, thus improving their final position in their God's hierarchy in the afterlife in regards to that great mission or next step in existence - whatever that may be. But I digress.
So, 1 SP is about $1, 1 EP is $10, and 1 GP is about $100. Here is the conversion rate for all mithral, platinum, gold, electrum, silver, and copper coins, for your edification. Their weights are standardized, too, so one can often 'count' coins of a particular type by weighing them and dividing by their standard unit. For example, there are 100 GP to the pound, and 50 SP in a pound. 3.74 pounds of gold coins would, therefore, be worth 374 GP, while 52 pounds of silver coins would be worth 2,600 SP or 26 GP worth of silver.
0.01 MP = 0.1 PP = 1 GP = 10 EP = 100 SP = 1,000 CP
NOTE: As may quickly become apparent, in the beginning of one's adventuring career, keeping track of coins is important to pay for even common things, like a glass of beer or a loaf of bread or wheel of cheese, as one may simply not be able to afford even that much and might have to do without. But after a year or so, adventurers are usually dealing in sums so far above that common level, it becomes annoying to track each paltry coin, as when room rental fees, meals, and common drink are less in worth than the time it takes to wait for change. Thus, while dividing up treasure, most round off error is cast off and it is just assumed to cover many mundane costs of living we'd rather not track, and I would only require players to track such little things if they enjoyed it, or for roleplaying reasons, or for some specific and foreseeable reason it might prove to be vitally important in the session ahead. It usually is not. But once again, I digress.
The bell tower began to chime 5 p.m. "You may still have time to travel to the East Gate and get lodgings for the night. That way you can get a fresh start in the morn and use a handy bridge to cross the Queen's River, and avoid a nasty mess of fording the White Water in that fashion." Liska looked at the map, tracing out the probable path the party would take, drawing it in lightly. "Why thank you, Pierce, that is a very good idea," she said as she looked up from the map. Maarik chose that moment to step into the room from outside, the songbird still perched upon his shoulder. "Cheap, cheap, cheap." Liska looked around and all seemed to agree that was a good plan. Unfortunately, she had not noticed Maarik just entering and didn't know he missed their plans to leave from the eastern gate.
Maarik looked at the group as he gently brushed the bird off his head, sending it on its merry way to the birdbath just outside the door. "I'll be camping outside of town and meet you at the inn in the morning." Maarik turned to leave as no one objected and soon found himself outside the north gate. He tracked, found, and shot a rabbit for his supper, making a small fire to roast it. Another rabbit's pelt and he could line his gloves. Soon, he went to sleep.
The rest of the party went back to the Ferryman and found Jarmain waiting for them. Purchasing provision at a nearby general store with their ever-dwindling coins, everyone got most of what they needed for the next two weeks in the field. Then they hired two coaches to take them the 26 miles across town. (Damn, Alodar was big). But before she left, Liska wondered if Maarik might have thought 'this' inn, the Ferryman, and not the new one since the ranger wouldn't have known where the new one was. She wondered about that, but it occurred to her too late to ask Maarik and make sure. Well, if a ranger couldn't find them, then he probably wasn't all that good anyway. But if that were the case, she decided she'd better leave a note with the innkeeper if Maarik turned up here, just in case.
The next four hours found everyone discussing life and things in general and their up-coming plans while taking their first coach ride in the city. (1/2 GP for each coach, it cost the group $100 to travel across Alodar in that fashion, but it was a lot quicker than walking, and a lot easier than carrying all their new provision that great distance). [Coach rates are 2 SP/mile, but one may rent them for the entire day (10 to 12 hours anyway) for 1GP. They can hold 4 comfortably, 5 if they are friendly enough, and 6 if you envy sardines]
They came to rest at the Argentinium Inn, where Potter, the Innkeeper, rented out his three remaining rooms to them at $75/room (nearly double the Ferryman's rate, but a much nicer place as well). There probably wouldn't be any prostitutes working here to disturb their slumber, but this section of town was more refined than the dirty, seedier, harbor-sections of Alodar, and you couldn't find a strip club around here to save your soul :-{(. Sometime during the night, Tuall takes off. Perhaps he will return, but that remains to be seen.
01/02/745 A.E.
The night passed quickly and breakfast was again a welcome assault on the senses of our travelers. After a quick meal, Liska found another public bathhouse and cleaned up well, as this might be the last time she could do this for a while. Alas, all plans came to a stand still as they waited and waited for Maarik to show up at the Inn or the East Gate, but soon noon was upon them and still no sign of the ranger. Deciding he was either not coming or would catch up with them, the party set out. Eighteen miles later they came to the bridge, which crossed the Queen's river where Rook's River flowed into her. They stopped to watch a few of the barges being hauled upstream along Rook's River. According to the map, they were probably bound for Knight's Lake but 12 miles to the northeast from that point. A small coaster was also seen heading down the Queen's, but that almost certainly came from the direction of Orlan. The bridge here was large and impressive; one of the empire's larger bridges as the combination of the two rivers here made it necessarily larger and stronger than most. And it was still high enough so that fairly large vessels could glide underneath it as well. In fact, due to its impressive size, the thing was generally known as "Big Bridge." Perhaps they wondered why the empire would build such an expensive bridge here where traffic was so light, but such things probably seemed trivially small when considering their upcoming trials and tribulations. A few hours later, walking until the light began to already fade from the clear, cool sky, the party made camp and started a fire, though the wood they found was still damp from yesterday morning's rain.
Maarik swore at the party he was following. Not only did they leave him outside of their plans, not only did they not have the consideration to walk a couple miles and tell him what they were going to do, but they left him a note of all things. Damn! He wished he could read, but he didn't want to advertise the fact he couldn't. He always figured he'd learn someday, when he had more time. Good thing the innkeeper read it to him. And so he was not only displeased with his new "friends," but he was also a bit cheesed off they were leaving tracks any fool could follow. Maybe they were doing it intentionally, but he doubted it. They probably just didn't know any better. Oh well, at least they'd need him to cover their tracks when necessary, if only he could catch up with them.
Maarik examined the tracks just the other side of the great stone bridge. Hmm, less than a few hours ahead now, he thought. "I'll catch up with them before the morning, or by morning maybe, if I relax a little." Maarik slowed down to rest while walking, a neat ranger trick Holly had taught him to conserve energy. He'd have to do this if they wished to move out in the morning and he didn't get any sleep. The ranger plods along, not the happiest camper in the world, looking for other campers he knew must be ahead.
01/03/745 A.E.
Morning breaks and the embers of the fire are glowing, the fire low and going out, the dew forming on the grass and leaves. Liska and Anne, on third watch to guard against the unexpected, are preparing to wake the party when Liska hears something. She scans the area, looking for what made the almost silent noise, only turning around to find Maarik almost on top of her. Her heart skips a beat, but she remains in control. "Hello Liska; have a good night?" he said as he grinned at her, despite the fact he was not in a great mood. "Oh, hi Maarik; glad you made it." The wind took that opportunity to shift, now gently puffing directly south, bringing a horrible stench into the camp which could gag a dog off a gut wagon. Soon the entire party is up and wishing they were elsewhere. "Ewwwwww, what is that horrible stench?" was a typical comment. The more intrepid of the group slowly went toward the source of the odor until they eventually came to a clearing in the woods, maybe 70 yards farther north. There they found a rotting, maggot-infested cow. At least one of them puked at the sight, smell, and thought of such a thing, but most covered their faces with bandages to cut down on the stench of death. Maarik informed the party the cow's skull had been bashed in, almost as if several hatchet blows to its head brought it down.
Examining the area for tracks, Maarik finds something like chicken tracks, only a lot, lot bigger. Gillmesh now enters the clearing, stops short, and hears a faint sound of rapid footfalls in the distance. He draws his broadsword, expecting the worst. The ranger looks at Gill and strides toward the perimeter of the clearing, peering into the wooded area. Then Maarik sees it, up ahead, a large ostrich-like bird with an enormously heavy, axe-like beak. It just stands there blinking at him. Slowly, Maarik aims his bow and arrow at the beast some 30 yards ahead of him when he hears a low "cawww" noise and looks to his immediate left. Another one, much larger, standing right next to him, craning its neck back in anger. Damn! He tries to back up and re-aim, but it is too late. Anne mutters, "Oh damn! NOW we're in for it."
COMBAT BEGINS
R1: Not really surprised, most of the group's initial reaction is to back up, but these birds charge with a vengeance. The first PECK glances off Maarik's armor and he skips back and shoots his arrow, hitting the blasted thing, though he only appears to have made it angrier. Drael shoots a sling bullet at the creature next to Maarik, but a branch snaps under foot as she plants her pivot foot and the shot goes wild, hitting Maarik in the back and badly hurting him. Maarik drops his bow (intentionally) and switches to his swords. A third bird appears and starts to charge toward Gillmesh but changes direction and heads for Jarmain. The second bird closes with Drael. Gillmesh lets fly three darts at the bird by Maarik, but all go far afield and miss their mark. Liska readies her arrows.
R2: Anne begins casting her spell as Gillmesh closes with Maarik's foe. The ranger swings and misses, and the lightning fast PECK snaps into his chest before he can swing again, felling the ranger before anyone can act. A Magic Missile slams into the nasty bird, hurting it even more, but it turns and glares at Anne, then charges her. Liska aborts her attack and runs to help Maarik, casting her Cure Light Wounds on him at the end of the round. Just before it gets to him, Jarmain cast Light on one of the bird's eyes, blinding it and making it hopping mad. Gillmesh steps in between Anne and the upcoming bird. Drael tries to climb a tree to get away and get a good position to shoot from, but the damn tree's bark is worse than the bird's bite, and the bark comes off in her hand as she tries to climb the tree and she falls to the ground. The bird PECKS at her, hitting her in the shoulder, but it glances off her leather armor. Gillmesh closes with the first bird, protecting Anne's retreat from Maarik's foe and her advance on Drael's foe. Gill swings and cleaves its friggin' head clean off. The bird wildly runs around for a time, but aimlessly and harmlessly, until it finally falls with its legs repeatedly kicking upwards toward the sky, eventually coming to the rest of the dead.
R3: Liska fires both her arrows but misses. Anne hits the bird in the neck with the staff and badly hurts it, but it, too, turns and glares at her. Drael slashes at it when it turns, but its thick feathers and quick movement protects it. Angrier than ever, the bird PECKS at Anne, hitting her in the head and felling her, her scalp now an open, bleeding wound. The blind bird PECKS at Jarmain, but he side steps that and hits the nasty thing, wounding it. Maarik picks up his swords and gets up, shaking off the effects of being knocked down and out, thanks to Liska's healing spell last round. Gillmesh steps up after crossing to the next bird, swinging with all his might, burying his blade deep into the creature's breast, felling it. It falls near Anne, its blood mingling with hers, both seeping into the ground.
R4: Again, Liska runs to aid her fallen comrade, binding Anne's ghastly wound and stopping the bleeding. Blind, getting hit, and with no way to see who is beating on it, the remaining bird starts to run as fast as it can, weaving now and then to avoid the trees (though it is blind, it must know where the trees are already or sense them somehow since it does seem to avoid them at that speed). Jarmain takes a parting cut but misses. Gill tosses a single dart at it, but it is moving fast, the dart disappearing in its feathers, where it may or may not have hurt it. Further darts are out of the question as darts have very short ranges. Maarik switches to bow and takes a parting shot as the bright, illuminated bird disappears into the foliage, but again it seems to have missed.
R5: Liska too, after tending Anne, takes one shot for a wing and a prayer, but also misses. No one else has a clear shot, so The Axe Beak is now gone and combat is over (for now *VEG*).
COMBAT ENDS
Casting their remaining spells of healing, the group prepares to move off, away from these bird's stomping grounds in case more decide to show up. Out of spells and wounded, they must find a safe place to rest, and they leave the dead cow behind, moving upwind of it, naturally.
SESSION ENDS.
© August of 1999
by
James L.R. Beach
Waterville, MN 56096