Campaign Journal: Repossessing the Possessed

Smaller crew tonight:

• Frederick – thief
• Fulvus – halfling
• Jax – barbarian
• Rondel – elf

Orzu was apparently off on a vision quest for his cult, and Slick was laying low after news of a rash of hat thefts was circulating in Chirath.

The party was hanging at The Crossed Blades, eating another hangover breakfast. An elegant elf drifted in, wrinkled her nose, and approached the party. She introduced herself to Rondel as Kailu Winthala, an envoy from the Old Lands who had heard of his arrival in town. She dusted off a seat with her handkerchief and reluctantly accepted a glass of wine. She was interested in developments in the west with the evidence of Chaos forces on the move. Old Lands? Are you from the desert? No – not those rustics. They have their particular views of the world, and remain in the desert, beholden to them.  Rondel revealed that he had interacted with one, and had found him to be honorable.

In fact he had been guarding an old tower, part of an abandoned defensive network against Chaos. Kailu was interested, as she had hit roadblocks attempting to gain information from the local authorities and researchers. An old magical network was most interesting, especially due to the resources and knowledge that would have been required to construct it. She had no recollection of elven efforts to such a network, and admitted it must have been human mages, with an equivalent knowledge of the arcane. Fascinating. 

Rondel observed that the humans were adaptable and good at gathering resources, such as the suspected dwarven craftsmen to make the focus lenses at the various strongholds. Kailu reluctantly admitted as much. In the end, the two agreed to share what notes and resources that they had. Kailu departed and soon sent an assistant to collect Rondel's notes and rubbings (and Mareth's, RIP).

Sometime after this, Balto, Slick and Fred's local contact, dropped by to let them know that he had made contact with the Sewer Patrol, and Solange might have a job...

Off to the Hidden Hand, via the fishmonger back door, of course. Solange appeared, and offered the task of recovering an idol from a local manor house. In exchange for a favor or two, of course.

The owners had departed east for a family pilgrimage, and the house was apparently empty. The Stonewills had some influence among the merchant families. Solange was able to provide some rough information on the house (two stories and cellar, first floor had studies, dining room, upper floor had bedrooms, plus a servants' wing). Funny thing, though, no one had ever observed any servants. Interesting. Some reconnoitering of the exterior proved the house to be secured and shuttered. Rondel attempted a clairvoyance spell, but was only able to connect to a couple of rats and some other inconsistent glimpses through eyes that didn't quite seem truly alive... 

Off to another anonymous tavern to meet the Sewer Patrol contact. Who turned out to be Yornick Hardblade, exhibition wrestler (and possible Sea Dwarves contact). Think you might be able to get us beneath the Stonewill manor? Probably, the sewers there should be cleared. Might have been an old connection at one time. Meet me in a certain alley, don't wear your nicest boots, and the tall one had better watch her head.

At the appointed time, the party descended into the sewers. Yornick explained that the sewers needed to be cleared and repaired along with the rest of the city. And unfortunately, they was occupied by detritus, living and dead. Some of which seemed to be corrupted by arcane or alchemical wastes. So watch your step.

Jak didn't, and stepped into a gobbling grout. The thing wrapped around a leg and began chewing. Thankfully, much stabbing occurred, and the thing sunk back into the murk. 

Another corner or two, and a gruesome find - a hand extending through an imperfectly bricked-up wall. Solidified grout and a trowel indicated someone's masonry work... The hand was relieved of its ring, as the owner certainly didn't need it any more.

Fulvus spotted a few sets of eyes peering from the muck, and was set upon by a trio of pustule toads. Fortunately, only one was able to latch on and cause damage, and the three were quickly dispatched.

Yornick announced that they had arrived adjacent to the manor cellar. Some tapping on the stone, and he found a thin spot, then lit his pipe, sitting back to watch the PCs break in. Under the concealment of a silence 15' radius, of course.

Sure enough, a root cellar. Some silenced recon, and another normal storeroom. A workshop was found, with leather and metal parts scattered about.

Moving upstairs, Frederick flipped open the access trapdoor, and rolled in. And was immediately dog-piled by several... individuals. As he wrestled away from the biting and clawing things, the rest of the party finally noticed (silence, remember) and came to render assistance. Poor Frederick had been accosted by the household staff, a number of animated doll-things. Jax hates dolls, and critted twice. Yes, Fulvus took a couple of doll heads...

Boo!

More searching, and a couple more individual dolls, more of the stabby variety. Rondel cast locate object, sensing the described idol in the second floor. Up the stairs, and into a master bedroom. Frederick picked the lock, stepped in, and was gang-tackled. Again. More doll-stabbing. 

Bring it on

The idol, a weathered wood figure of a woman dressed in robes, was recovered. Frederick put it in his backpack, and everyone tossed the second floor rooms. About then, as shill voice shouted from Fredericks pack. "Who are you? I'm Sybil! Why are you taking my from my owners?" We're returning you to your prior owner. "Doesn't narrow it down. I've been in here for 200 years." Why do they want you? "I've collected some secrets." At this point, Frederick "decided" that he really wanted to stay at the manor. In fact, this bed was really comfortable, and he might as well have a nap. 

Damnit Frederick, now is not the time.

What the heck, said Rondel. Let's try something. Counter-charm! Time to go Frederick. The idol was muffled. More rooms tossed, and the PCs returned to the cellar. This time, they took a closer look at the "workshop," finding more animatronics, and casks filled with preserved organs. Lovely.  

Just one more...

They found Yornick at his post, still smoking. Would he mind having a couple of his men seal up the access? Not at all. 10gp? Really? I know you tossed the place. OK, here's a necklace. Better. 

On the way out, the party was passed by another fleeing party, one that had not been as successful, based on their wounds and general panic.

The party asked Yornick about access to the Smoking Isles, letting him know that they had learned his name from exile Urin Duskborn. Ah yes, I remember him, bad turn of luck. Would you be able to get us to the isles, we need to talk to someone about your foundries. I can get you to the islands, but once you're there, you're on your own. We are... insular...

Thanking the dwarf, the party offloaded Sybil at the Hidden Hand, where she was immediately stowed in a lockbox.

DM Notes:

Just a light heist tonight. Who knows. Swiping possessed dolls may create a complication or two. And pay your maintenance workers.

As I mentioned before, the Sewer Patrol is a blatant grab from Hereticwerks, an unfortunately idled blog. I miss James' "atmospheric" stylings and inspirations. Not to worry, he has volumes to mine on the blog. If you haven't explored it, I highly recommend taking a wander through the streets and alleyways of Wermspittle and its surrounding lands.

Random sewer encounters were inspired by a few d30 tables on the same blog, as well as a couple of my own creations.