[GAME] SDMB RPG - Seven Seas of Rhye - IC Thread

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Game Wiki.
OOC and Setup Thread.

The island of Jol, located only a few miles from the coast of the Imperial Seat, possesses the prestige and wealth that one might expect from being so close to the only continent in the known world. Its one large city, Stormside, is a shipyard famous for producing sleek, fast mercantile vessels particularly well-suited to navigating the treacherous reefs and shifting currents of the southern reaches, where daring traders may find small communities willing to trade rare commodities for the staples and luxuries only produced close to the Empire.

Our tale does not begin in Stormside, though. It begins on the other side of the island, in a small tavern in a small village on a small bay. It’s summer, and the yields from the ocean are bountiful at this time of year. Food is cheap, alcohol is plentiful, work is easy to come by, should one be willing to be a laborer. For other sorts, for adventuring sorts, the hunt for treasure or glory might be more difficult to come by.

For that reason, five companions find themselves in the Bait and Switch tavern during mid-morning, when nearly the entire population of the village is out on the water or working the nearby fields. Rumor had it that there was trouble of some kind, here in the village of Blue Waters, but news travels slowly when at the whim of tide and storm, and this place seems peaceful, if not downright idyllic.

Use this opportunity to introduce your characters. You all know each other, and have traveled here on the same boat, but it’s your call whether you’ve been with the group (or perhaps with one or two members of the group) for a while, or whether circumstance has only recently brought you into the company of these men. Feel free to discuss this in the OOC thread.

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“We poets, as you may know, were reckoned by the ancient to be a race of prophets. As I lay claim to that noble blood, I tell you now that I have a dire foreboding, here in this tavern with so few patrons to entertain with song or story, that I will soon be asked to pay for my own drinks. This I have sworn never to do. Well, not sworn, exactly. It was like an oath. A principle, you might say.” Rinzo the Wise looks around, scheming for a way to cheat this dolorous fate.

3

“Eh.” Hukthak glances at Rinzo neutrally. “Or you could just not get any. Wouldn’t be missing much…” He takes another swig of the beer and frowns. “This stuff couldn’t even buzz an elf, let alone take the edge off an orc.” He glances around the table, notices Morath again, and laughs slightly pissily. “You know what I mean? Now back where I come from… The stuff they brew could knock a dire wolf on its ass.” He seems to be clearly underestimating the ale, and not noticing his own slight inebriation. “Have we met, by the way? You folk look like… hmm…” He searches for the right words, then settles on “Adventurers”.

4

Rinzo suppresses a spit-take at the suggestion that he not drink, but nods politely through the rest of Hukthak’s words. “So you’ve penetrated my farmer disguise? Well done, you. Weren’t you on the boat? I confess I spent much of the trip bent to the scuppers. It’s all well and good to talk of ‘sea legs’. Nobody warned me about ‘sea stomach’.”

5

“Eh, I’ve just learned to take talk of prophets and blood seriously.” He laughs raucously. “That has landed me in some odd situations. One time I followed around a gibbering homeless man for a week because I thought he was a powerful wizard. I stopped when he singed my beard with a fireball.” At mention of the boat, he cringes. “Aye, probably should have avoided the herring. I’ve got an iron stomach, but some poor sods weren’t quite so lucky.”

6

Thoradin steadies himself against the bar, his body still experiencing the phantom sensation of movement beneath his feet, amplified by the effects of the ale. His discomfort at being trapped by walls has subsided somewhat. At least it’s a slow day at the bar.

He signals to the barkeep to give an ale to Rinzo and interjects himself into the conversation.

“This was the first I’ve ever had the ocean behind my feet. After my stomach was emptied, I asked the sailors if it was normally this rough and they laughed. Our trip was merely a pleasant stroll to them. That may have been the first time in my life that the sight of a storm would’ve been unwelcome. What brings ye to this part of the world?”

7

Halduor sits and sips and grins.

“So what you’re telling me, Thoradin, is that the ground is always this still?”

8

“Aye, I prefer the only thing that make my head spin and my stomach turn to be the ale”

Thoradin looks over the other patrons sitting before him. A half-orc wasn’t a common sight in a tavern, but he didn’t seem inclined to stir up trouble. He certainly looked like he could, if he wanted. He wonders for a moment if he should mind his own business.

“I saw some of you hauling your gear on the boat. Looks like you might be the adventuring sort. Have you heard the rumors about the lost islands? I don’t know what to make of it myself, but my temple thought enough of them to ask me to see what I could find out. If you ask me, it’s the same tales you always hear about the edge of the world. There’s always some fantastic story or another. But the struggles between the gods drive our world - and if there’s even a chance something has upset that balance of power, it needs to be known”

He takes another swig of his ale.

“And the acolytes at the temple make the best wine. Did you know that? Never had anything like it in a tavern. Some kind of secret process. I bet it’s one of their best recruiting tools. Join the temple… get hammered on the good stuff. I’ve been visiting every temple I can come across, seeing what they can tell me. They always break out the good stuff for travelers on a mission of the faith. Almost enough to make the trip worthwhile by itself.”

9

Hukthak laughs and gives Thoradin a mild stink-eye. “What tipped you off, the battleaxe?” He quickly goes back to his happy, drunken demeanor. At the mention of gods, he rolls his eyes slightly, but doesn’t say anything. “Good booze? I can always go for that. Better than thish shtuff.” He knocks back what’s left in his tankard and slams it on the bar. “Too weak to have mush of an effeckt on me anywaysh”. He’s swaying back and forth and slurring slightly, ignoring any angry glances he might get. “Honeshtly, I don’t know why I came here. Don’t know why I go anywhere. But you do meet… very intereshting people.” He looks over at Thoradin. “Name’s Hukthak, by the way.”

10

Halduor winks. “Don’t know about any ‘lost islands’. Now, I’ve found a few of the bastards. Just poking right out of the waters. Damnedest site. Tiny island, tiny little men on it. We had a laugh while they tried to look all scary-like at us, but anyway the ship was too big to land on such a rock.”

He resumes pouring ale into his grin, then pauses again. “But in general I should remark. Your typical water out-poker is going to be a beast of the deep. And when the beasts start coming up for air, you want to get as far away as possible.”

11

**Morath **draws his hood back, revealing his dark eyes for the first time. He glances suspiciously around the the nearly deserted tavern.

“I would be wary of speaking too loudly of things such as ‘lost isles’, my friends” he says in a low voice. “Even in a backwater such as this, there may be unwanted listeners.”

He takes a sip from his beer, grimacing at its poor quality.

“I’ve heard rumors that there were dark doings in this hamlet not long ago.” He continues. “And it’s present apparent tranquility only makes me more wary.”

12

“Now, look here, good dwarf,” Rinzo said, stopping for a moment to puzzle over the lack of a head on his ale. He sees he has his benefactor’s attention and raises his tankard to him. “No, the other good dwarf, but I do thank you.” He turns to Haldour: “If there’s going to be any spinning of wild tales around here, you’d best leave that to me. I am a wandering minstrel by trade, and we do have a guild.”

Rinzo musters his courage for another long pull of the island’s native tipple. “I’m afraid I misunderstood. I was told I would find trouble here, but I get told that wherever I go. What’s that about these…” nodding to the cowled elf “…unmentionable thingies? Someone has misplaced a few?”

13

“Ha! See, even the elf can tell that this shtuff ain’t sho good!” Hukthak glances over. “I dunno about any lost islands, but if there’s adventure to be had…” He sidles his stool over closer to the others, leaning in and almost tipping off-balance.

14

“I don’t know much about your people, Hukthak. For all I know, orc nannies might carry battleaxes like that. Interesting people indeed. The name is Thoradin.”

He looks around, noticing that the last few locals have cleared out of the tavern.

“I too have heard whispers about some sort of recent commotion from the locals here, but no one seems to want to speak to outsiders about it. Barkeep! What’s been going on recently in your quaint little town?”

15

The bartender is that particular sort of massive that happens when an overly muscled man takes up a trade that involves standing behind a counter and drinking lots of beer. He’s thick of limb and broad of gut, and sports a huge, bushy white beard. He eyes Thoradin, then shrugs one massive shoulder.

“The usual. A little farming. A lot of fishing. Not enough drinking, if you ask the fella who earns his keep on that account.”

He pauses thoughtfully, cleaning out a cloudy glass mug with a dingy rag.

“Of course, there was talk of trouble at one of the fisheries a few miles down the north coast, but you know how fisherman like to talk. Word was th-“

His genial chatter is cut short, though, as a man bursts through the door. His clothing is ripped in several places and long, deep gashes are apparent beneath the tatters of the clothing, from which blood flows freely. He grasps at the door handle, wild-eyed and wobbling.

“Olaf!” he gasps. “The boats! We’re being attacked!”

And with that, he collapses.

Outside the tavern, one has a clear view of the shoreline and the bay beyond. The once idyllic scene has turned grim indeed. Several of the fishing boats have been capsized, with no sign of the men who once manned them. Others rock to and fro as fishermen grapple with short creatures who have apparently climbed into the vessels, though the outcome of such struggles seems inevitably similar for each: a bloody corpse and a tipped boat.

More figures emerge from the shoreline, wielding spears and nets and other crude implements of war. They are humanoid, scaled, and have heads that resemble monstrous fish, sharks, and eels.

Of the five adventurers standing outside the tavern, only Morath recognizes them immediately. Sahuagin. Moreover, he knows that their presence this close to the Empire is not only strange – it’s unprecedented. They’re hundreds, if not thousands of leagues beyond their normal territories, where they mainly war with themselves and small tribal islands.

There’s little time for much musing on these things, though. Even as you all watch, at least a dozen of the creatures are emerging from the waterline, heading for the nearby buildings.

I rolled a nature check for everybody at DC 15 to recognize the Sahuagin, and only Morath made it. I then rolled a History check for him at the same difficulty and he made that as well.

16

Hukthak stands up from the stool, tipping it over in the process. “Well that jusht got intereshting” he slurred lightly, grabbing his pike and heading for the door. “I don’t think I’ve ever killed one o’ thoshe before”. On his way out, he motions to the others, “You coming?” Despite being tipsy, the way he hefts his large polearm shows he’s clearly quite capable of fighting in this state.

17

Rinzo makes a dramatic flourish of drawing and loading his hand crossbow. “The last one to run headlong into danger buys the next round. And I’ve got a policy about buying paying for drinks.”

Rinzo is, however, determined to be next-to-last.

This snappy bravado is intended to confer Bardic Inspiration on Hukthak, 1d6 which can be added to one attack roll, ability check or save within the next 10 minutes.

18

**Morath **silently slips away from the group outside the tavern, withdrawing into the shade of a nearby alley. Sahuagin, here? So far from their natural homes? This is no simple raid. Something darker is afoot.

He studies the attack clinically, noting their weapons and tactics for any clue as to their intent. Is there some specific location in Blue Water that they’re trying to reach? Some particular goal they’re trying to achieve? The villagers are being slaughtered, of course … a pity, that. But the lives of such rabble are cheap. The important thing is to figure out what the Sauhagin want.

He draws his swords, and watches.

19

“I’m not buying you two in a row” says Thoradin as he tightens his grip on his shield in his left hand and his warhammer in his right. He follows a dozen yards beyond Hukthak.

He’d never seen a fish-man before. He watched them, as they attacked everyone in the harbor, women and old men indiscriminately. Monsters. A thought occurs to him: a good fight will settle my stomach.

20

“I’ve got one too. Something about fish skewers and fried potatoes.” Halduor, crossbow at the ready, advances alongside the others, keeping his eye out for an advantageous point (elevated, covered) from which to begin poking out fish eyes.