PBM: Chapter 1: Arriving in New Phlan: Part 12

In which the day finally wraps up, curses are removed, and everyone gets some much-needed rest.

Donovan

Donovan walks down to the docks. He wanders the street a bit before coming to a tall, wooden tenement, perched on what was a pier only three months ago, but now a good hundred feet from the water. He walks around to the back of the building, fumbling in his pockets for a key, and ascends a rickety staircase. The building was not the most sturdy-looking, little better than some of the buildings in the Slums, but at least it was inside the walls, and it was home.

He stops at a door at the top of the third flight of steps when he hears a shout from below him. "Oi! Don!" He looks down to see a short, scrawny, rat-faced man with a bad comb-over glaring up at him. "When did you get back Don? I haven't seen you in a month and your rent's due. Another day and I was ready to rent your room out to another letter."

Donovan groans, rubs his temples, and fishes two platinum coins out of the pouch Aumry gave him. "Here Stan," he drops the coins down into the man's outstretched hand. "That should pay me up in full and for next month two. I'm leaving again in the morning and probably won't be back for another couple of weeks..." He leaves the man to the coins and turns and opens the door. He stumbles into the small, one-room apartment and locks the door behind him. Still groaning and rubbing at his head, he drops his bags right inside the door and goes to relieve himself into a pot in the far corner. After a long pee, he walks over and props the small window open with a stick to let in the air and dumps the pot out the window...hoping that his landlord is still down there. He goes and collapses onto his bed and is soon snoring away.

Lyra

Lyra's shoulders slump as she thinks for a moment.  "An air drake, a magma silt horror, and a cistern fiend should all be big enough that someone would notice.  An eater of knowledge still big, but less big than the other three.  Killing any of those would be highly problematic, especially with just us.  There's a good chance any one of those could destroy most of the town before anyone could do much about it.  Of course, a telepath strong enough to keep the field going this long is also likely to be problematic.  If it's a device ... that would probably be easiest to triangulate the location of, but otherwise I'm not sure I'd know what to look for."

Frantiska

Frantiska puffs on her cigarette and looks incredulous, "So we don't actually know anything." She begins unhitching Thistledown, "In which case, there is nothing we can do for the moment. Let's hope that your instincts about this a wrong. Maybe it's just the strain of the day, or the smell of the water here getting to us all. I suggest we take Donovan's advice and get a good meal and some sleep..." She looks bemusedly around at the unfamiliar city, "Any guesses where we could find such?"

Lyra

"Calling it 'water' seems charitable...."  Lyra looks around to orient herself.  "We ate at the Cracked Crown earlier today, but some of the sisters from the temple of Tyr are planning to be at The Bitter Blade tonight.  Playing cards with the grocer, apparently.  As for lodging, I'm not entirely sure.  Mother is staying ... somewhere.  I could stay at the temple; they offered hospitality for saving Brother Rant earlier today."

Frantiska

Frantiska looks at Hrud, "We'll need to keep and eye on him. You said you knew a priest that has had dealings with his tribe. Let's start there."

"Hrud, kita akan menemukan sebuah penginapan di mana kita bisa makan dan tinggal untuk malam."

Lyra

"That would be Brother Rant.  I think the fastest way back to the temple is this way....  I should check on Amara and pick up a few things that I left there.

Not wanting to take chances with unfamiliar side streets at this time of day, Lyra sticks to the main roads, heading back to the parkside entrance of the temple of Tyr.  "Something that would break the concentration of anyone in town momentarily, like that explosion, or Donovan's hurdy-gurdy, might give us a moment's reprieve."  Lyra sighs and presses the heels of her palms into her temples.  "Just, be on the lookout for anything suspicious as we head across town."

GM

In the two block walk to the temple in the last fading light of the day, you notice nothing out of the ordinary, for Phlan at least. At this time of the evening, the roads are fairly crowded with people as they close up their shops and head for their homes or one of the three inns inside with walls. The mix is remarkably diverse: humans, elves, dwarves, gnomes, even a few orcs, goblins, and...other things, and all of the citizenry appear to be armed. Everyone has at least a dagger visible, and the wealthier shopkeepers walk about with large swords or crossbows, and usually a few heavily armed and armored guards as well. In the short walk, your headaches abate not in the least.

Lyra

Lyra seems to be focusing on the crowds.  She keeps her voice quiet.  "Look, the people coming from that way seem fine.  That's consistent with my assumptions about the source of the headaches having a stationary area of effect with a finite radius."

Frantiska

Frantiska looks around at all the people passing on the street, "This seems like a rough town. I thought it would have been more peaceful inside the walls..."

Winona

As you near the temple, you see Winona and two of the other white-robed Tyrran priestesses coming out the main doors. Winona looks like she is dressed for a night out on the town, her robe open in the front to reveal a suit of double-linked chainmail underneath, a set of metal flindbars stuck into her belt, and a large, two-handed flail strapped to her back. She absentmindedly fiddles with a deck of playing cards in her hands, shuffling and rearranging them as she chats with the other sisters. Seeing Lyra, she stops and waves.

Lyra

"Apparently their definition of 'civilized' is less overcrowding, more money, and stronger walls and better arms and armor to keep it that way."  Spotting Sister WInona, Lyra waves back.

Winona

Winona guides her little party in Lyra's direction. "Good evening, Dearie..." Winona flinches slightly as an arrow suddenly comes flying out of nowhere to clatter against the wall of the temple. She turns and glares at the river before continuing, "Did the rest of your shopping trip go well?"

Lyra

Lyra isn't quite sure which is more shocking, the arrow, or the Sister's reaction to it, and winced at the sudden noise as it hit the wall.  "It was ... fine.  I found the rest of my party while I was out, and some ... additions.  Sister Winona, this is Frantiska Sykora and Hrud of the Eraka.  So far as I can tell, Hrud does not speak the common tradespeech, and I was hoping that Brother Rant might be able to assist in translating."

GM

A few more arrows come flying out of the darkness while you talk, landing among the cobblestones of the road or bouncing harmlessly off the walls of the temple, most of their momentum having been exhausted. One of the other priestesses, a slip of a girl in a novice's habit with a spiked mace resting against her hip, speaks up, "I saw Brother Rant attending vespers in the chapel just now."

Hrud

Hrud unsheathes his sword (slightly disappointed that it doesn't appear to be any different than it was before), "Ngendi nyerang?"

Winona

Winona smirks a little as the barbarian draws his sword and points to the north. "Orcs, on the other side of the river. They do this every evening. It's a bit too far for their bows, but they try anyways." She fiddles with the cards a bit more, then realizes what she's doing and holds them up. "We were just on our way to the Bitter Blade for some fun. Care to join us?"

Frantiska

Frantiska raises an eyebrow, "That explains everyone's armament. Are the orcs just ruffians, or have they ever made any real threats against the city?" She briefly contemplates testing the range of her own weapon, then notices Hrud's elevated alertness. She thinks for a moment, "Hrud, Orcs di sisi lain sungai. Mereka hanya mencoba untuk menakut-nakuti orang."

"I don't know the word for Orcs in any equivalent language..." she admits quietly to Lyra.

Hrud

Realizing that no one seems to care much about the attacks, or interested in doing anything about it, Hrud grudgingly puts his sword away.

"Wong ing kutha iku edan" he mutters.

Winona

Winona closes her eyes tightly and shakes her head a little, "Ugh." She suddenly notices that Lyra and her companions are also acting strange. "Did you bring some sort of headache monster with you dearie?"

Lyra

"Half the monsters I know of that can do this are forty feet long, and none under nine.  I think we would have noticed by now.... "  Lyra trails off and rubs her eyes again.

Winona

Winona groans, turns, and opens the door back into the temple. "Sorry dears, I'm suddenly not feeling well so I'm out tonight." She motions for Lyra and the others to follow her as she heads inside. "We should get one of the senior priests to look at you, there are a number of contagious maladies which could cause pains like this..."

Lyra

Lyra follows Sister Winona inside the temple.  "I was fine until I met up with Mr. Donovan.  And you were fine before meeting up with us, correct?"  Lyra frowns and looks over at Frantiska.  "Did anything ... unusual ... happen while you were outside of town, and when did your headaches start?"

Frantiska

Frantiska motions for Hrud to follow them, "Ya, Hrud, mereka gila. Ayo, kita akan menemukan imam anda."

"The headaches began shortly after we dispatched the kobolds. I doubt that this is any kind of mundane illness, Selune's power shields her knights from such inconveniences." She looks around the large temple, clearly unimpressed. "Lyra's theory that it is some kind of psionic assault, or perhaps a curse or enchantment seems more likely..." She pauses, realization suddenly dawning on her, and reaches up and snatches the hat off the top of her head.

GM

Another identical hat appears in its place. You now have two ugly hats.

Frantiska

Frantiska looks at the frumpy, reddish thing in her hands for a moment, then snatches the other one off of her head.

GM

Frantiska pulls the hat off of her head, followed by another, and another, each identical to the last. 6...7..8... The hats just keep coming. 9...10...11... Soon a small pile of the hats litters the floor of the temple, and always a new one is there on her head. As the hats fly, she can feel the headache growing worse.

Winona

Winona can't help but laugh. "Look on the bright side, dearie. You could move out to the slums and run quite the haberdashery business with no work at all..."

Lyra

Trying not to laugh just makes Lyra's head hurt worse.  "I don't suppose you remember the phrasing of the curse?"

Frantiska

Frantiska rubs at her temples and throws another hat on the ground. "The kobold priest said 'May your heads never be uncovered for a million days! May your roots wither and die! May your fleas and lice shrivel! May the kings of gods and men rain their hatred upon your pates,' or something pretty close to that." She plucks off another hat and stares at the thing, trying not to think about how impolite it is to wear a hat indoors. "I hate kobolds..." she mutters.

Lyra

A million days is a long time to have a headache.  Lyra lets out a long, drawn out sigh.  "The part about the fleas doesn't sound so bad, at least.  Sister, is there anyone specializing in curses we could talk to?"

GM

You stand, hats piled around you, in the vestibule of the temple. The sound of priests chanting vespers echoes from behind the large doors into the sanctuary. Doors which creep open as you continue to make a ruckus. "Can I help you?" says a voice. You look to see Brother Rant, mended, freshly shaved, and wearing a suit of scale armor emblazoned with Tyr's Hammer, coming through the door. He looks bemusedly at the heap of hats littering the floor.

Lyra

Lyra blushes a bit.  "I hope you are feeling better, Brother Rant.  This is Frantiska Sykora, and Hrud of the Eraka.  We have two issues at present.  One, Hrud does not understand the common tradespeech, and we were hoping you might be able to help translate.  Two, Frantiska here seems to have acquired a minor ... affliction."

Winona

Winona notices Lyra's blush, sidles over and gives her a nudge in the side with her elbow (as good as a wink to a blind bat, eh?).

GM

"The Waiting", as it is called, is typical of Tyr's temples. The temple is a traditional cruciform shape [typical of most Roman Catholic cathedrals] (though the Tyrrans would refer to it as "hammer-shaped"), constructed entirely from stone with a facade of white limestone. The roof is flat and crenelated, with manned guard towers at each of the transepts, and the heavy, windowless, iron-reinforced doors give the impression of a fortress more than a place of worship. Narrow hammer-shaped windows, more like arrow slits, line either side of the the nave, letting in very little light. The interior of the narthex is empty and the walls unadorned, save for another pair of large, reinforced doors--though, being the diocesan seat, these doors are bound in gold and have large, golden hammers inlaid in the centers. To either side of the narthex are stairs, leading down.

Beyond the double-doors, is the chapel or sanctuary, which is arrayed like a court-room, with several rows of uncomfortable looking hardwood seats flanking a single aisle. At the back, where the chancel would be in a normal church, is a large, curved bench, with high-backed seats for five judges (priests) behind it. The middle seat, belonging to the Bishop, appears to be carved from gold. In front of the judges' bench, is an elevated, cage-like witness-box, flanked by two tables. Over the witness-box, floating in mid-air, is an over-sized, silver-inlaid hammer, which glows with a brilliant blue-white radiance providing the only light in the room. In the apse, behind the judges' seats, is a large white statue of an old soldier in full armor, his eyes bound to indicate blindness, his left hand holding a set of scales aloft, and his right hand stuck into the mouth of a slavering wolf. The south transept has a table with scribe's implements laid out on it. This being an affluent temple, the north transept is filled with a massive pipe-organ. No other statuary, art, or ornamentation can be seen anywhere in the place.

Currently, through the opened narthex doors, you see some forty or fifty people, a mix of white-robed novices, heavily armored priests, and well-dressed city folk, seated in the pews chanting the evening prayers--the judges' seats are currently empty. Occasionally, one of the petitioners will rise and go to stand in the witness box, the hammer flashing brightly as he or she confesses his transgressions in front of the assembled congregation. The reek of incense hangs in the air, but you see no censers or braziers currently being used, and the organ stands silent.

"Thank you Miss Lyra, I am feeling much better." Brother Rant looks Frantiska up and down, then looks at the pile of hats. "That is quite the affliction you have there. I'm afraid I don't know much about magically replicating headwear."

He then turns to Hrud and gives an odd gesture, swinging both arms wide and bumping his two fists together, "Rahayu sore, Hrud saka Eraka. Aku Bengak-Bengok Harmel, imam saka Tyr ing Cukup, diadopsi saka Angin-Jaran kulawarga," he says in perfectly accented Erakic, "Sami-sami kita kutha. Apa Panjenengan klan?"

Hrud

Fascinated by the architecture and stonework, Hrud pulls his gaze away from the temple and returns the gesture.

"Rahayu sore. Aku ing 'dawa kulo' klan, lan pangarep-arep kanggo bakal bali sedina. Aku nggoleki jawaban saka dewa lan ora bisa bali aku duwe nganti mau."

Frantiska

Frantiska pulls another hat off her head and rubs her forehead aggressively with her other hand. "The hats seem to be a manifestation of a curse that was placed on me by a kobold in the ruins," she says, answering Brother Rant's comment, but clearly talking to Lyra and Winona. "Is there anyone in the temple who might be skilled at curse removal?"

Winona

Winona stops to think, finding it much harder to do as the throbbing in her head increases, "Sister Theymr is able to remove curses. Let's take you down to the dormitories and see if she can help..."

Hrud

Noticing a set up stairs leading up, Hrud asks, "Bisa ndeleng kutha saka gendheng?"

Frantiska

Frantiska looks around at the pile of hats on the floor, "Thank you, Miss, but first, I need to see to my horse, and also, what should be done about these?"

Lyra

Lyra looks at the growing pile of hats.  "I can help clean up."

GM

Brother Rant looks where Hrud is looking, trying to figure out why he is asking to go up, since there is no roof access from here, "Kula nyuwun pangapunten, kanca. Sing gendheng mati watesan."

"I'll take care of the horses, Lady Sykora, and then I believe I will give your Eraka friend a tour." He bows to the ladies, "You probably want to make sure those hats are destroyed, in case the curse is something that can be spread." You see a vein begin to stand-out on his forehead.

"Kakang Hrud, aja duwe Panggonan kanggo amben mudhun kanggo wengi?"

One of the two novices accompanying Wonina pipes up, "We can probably burn the hats in the fireplace in the dormitory. I'll run and tell Sister Theymr to expect you." All too eagerly, she dashes down the stairs to the left.

Hrud

"Kanthi jaran." Hrud says with a shrug.

GM

"Sampeyan bisa turu karo jaran yen pengin, utawa aku bisa kurban sing amben yen seneng. Teka karo aku, aku bakal nuduhake endi jaran kandhang punika." Rant heads outside, and carefully approaches the two horses.

Hrud

"Aku ora nyana kuwi loman. Matur nuwun." Hrud says to Brother Rant, following him.

GM

Brother Rant takes Thistledown's reins and leads Hrud and the horses across the square to the stables, which are tucked in the park half-way between the temples of Tempus, Tyr, and Gond, and shared by the three. The stables are large and sturdy-looking, with walls made from stones salvaged from the ruins and stalls for some two hundred animals, more than half of which are full. "Iki stabil jaran diwenehake minangka layanan dening Dhéwan lan candi. Punika biasane digunakake dening tentara Tempus, nanging sawetara Tyr kang paladins tetep jaran kene uga."

Brother Rant finds two empty stalls between a pair of heavy war horses, making sure that Thistledown is situated beside a mare, so that the smell of the filly will not drive any stallions to distraction. "Dadi enom kanggo wis ditunggangi limang atus liga," he says in a soothing voice, more to the horse than anyone else. He brushes down her coat (she doesn't seem to mind that it is the fourth time that day), and shows Hrud where the fodder for the animals is kept.

Hrud

"Candhi perdagangan - pangan? peralatan?" asks Hrud. There is an audible growl from his stomach.

GM

"Aja padha sumelang ing bab perdagangan. Yen sampeyan lagi kanca saka Lyra lan dheweke perusahaan, aku arep priksa manawa sampeyan njaluk meal apik bengi iki." Rant finishes tending to the horses and shows Hrud how to lock the stalls. "Yen wis perlu barang liyane, Aku suggest sing mriksa pasar mudhun dening katharine. Padha biasane mbukak ing jam iki."

Hrud

Using his bedroll as a sack, Hrud bundles up his spoils from the unexpected encounter with the Kobolds out in the slums. Then, following his nose, makes his way down to the temple's kitchen and pantry. Aware, at least in part, of the stares he draws, Hrud assembles a modest meal from the food he finds lying out - hoping not to inadvertently offend anyone in the process and quietly wonders off.

Hrud meanders through the temple, taking care not to blunder into the sanctuary. Finally, he finds himself back at the entrance. As he starts to make his way to the front door, something in the corner catches his eye.

The barbarian walks over and picks up a frumpy, red-brown hat with a single drooping white feather stuck in the band.

This was the elf woman's. It must have gotten kicked out of the way. Moments pass as he contemplates what to do with it. Give it back to Frantiska? She seemed to have quiet a few of them, and didn't really seem happy about it. Would she mind if Hrud took it? On The Ride, when things were left on the plain, it was assumed their owner didn't want them anymore, else they would have taken better care of it.

The Eraka didn't have much use for headgear, outside of ceremonial headdresses or the odd helmet - often incorporating bits taken from a notable kill. This hat didn't look like it had any religious significance, and it certainly wouldn't do anything to keep his skull from being split. Hrud wondered if it would be worth anything.

Looking at the food in his left hand and the sack of plundered weapons at his feet. Hrud needed a free hand. He raised the hat to his head ... Nah, he just couldn't see himself wearing it. His fellow Eraka would mock him mercilessly (well, /more/ mercilessly than normal) if they saw him wearing such a thing. Into the bag it went.

Making way out of the temple, Hrud tried to stay close to any walls or buildings facing the river as he made his way (again, following his nose) to the docks. The barbarian had encountered several small village ports along the rivers that fed The Ride. The docks of Phlan smelled like all of them put together. The occasional click of an arrow hitting stone or thunking into wood told him the orcs were still across the river, but in the deepening twilight, it was obvious they were firing blindly.

Rounding a corner, Hrud found a number of storefronts. Many of them were dark, one sounded like a tavern, and there, on the end, what he hoped was the trader that Brother Rant had spoken of. Entering the store, he found a sour-faced man sitting behind a counter counting money - or he had been, until an unexpected visitor had him hastily shoving the coins into a box and down behind the counter.

The man asked Hrud a question - probably wanted to know what he wanted, despite not understanding the words. The barbarian walked to the counter and upended his bedroll.

GM

The man behind the counter, looking more than a little terrified, eyes the pile of weapons that has been dumped in front of him. Though the large man's intent seems obvious the man looks bewildered as he waves a hand towards the case of, now slightly less than fresh, fish still remaining of his day's wares. He babbles out something, then, seeing the lack of recognition on the big man's face, sighs. He pulls a dozen silver coins from a pouch at his waist, not touching the box behind the counter, and lays them on the counter, pushing them gingerly towards the barbarian.

Hrud

Careful not to betray his excitement at making the most money on a sale that he's ever made, Hrud scoops the coins into his pouch, rolls up his bedroll and makes his way back to the temple. Hrud wonders, as yet another arrow clatters above him in the night, maybe it's possible to make a living at killing evil creatures and selling their belongings ...

Between this, the free meal, and the offer of a real bed, this has been a very good day - kobold kidnapping and elven neck-punching aside.





Meanwhile Downstairs...

Lyra

Arms loaded with hats, Lyra proceeds to the women's dormitory.

Winona

Winona puts her arm through Frantiska's in a much-too-familiar way and leads her down the stairs to the women's dormitories. "Don't worry Franny, I'm sure SIster Theymr will be able to get that dreadful thing off your head. Then we'll get you a nice meal and a bed for the night, and I'm sure you'll feel right at rain in the morning." She stops and leans against the wall, massaging her temples. "Seriously, lets get that damned contemptible thing off of your head before mine explodes..."

Frantiska

After the recent attempted horse-thievery, Frantiska briefly considers going after Brother Rant to take care of Thistledown, but then realizes that if anyone in this town is to be considered trustworthy, the Tyrrans would be the ones to trust with her beloved companion. Resigned to the fact that she has more immediate problems to deal with--in the form of a magically induced fashion faux-pas, a breach of etiquette, and a potential public health risk--she allows herself to be lead downstairs. Even allows herself to be called 'Franny' without comment. She is, however, completely taken aback by the near-opulent comfort of the dormitories--nothing to compare with her experience as a favorite of the queen of Aglarond, but far, far superior to the austerity she had expected from what is considered the strictest religious order in all the Realms.

Once in the dormitories, she immediately collapses to a sitting position on one of the beds, figuring that for this one, brief moment in her life, she can allow the circumstances to dispense with formalities. Once sitting, she clutching at her head as if trying to hold her brains in.

Lyra

Lyra rather unceremoniously dumps the armload of hats near the fireplace, and goes to check on Amara and the items she left here earlier.

GM

Lyra finds Amara fast asleep, the doll, Susalia, clutched tightly to her chest, its eyes seeming to follow everyone around the room. Lyra's gear is still right where she left it, though the books lie open on the next bed over, layed out as if someone were trying to read both simultaneously.

Pre-warned of the situation, the white-haired Sister Theymr comes bustling over as soon as Winona leads Frantiska in. "I'm Theymr," she says to Frantiska, "let me take a look at you..." She plucks a hat off of Frantiska's head, turning it over in her hands, and paying only moderate attention to the one that appears in its place. "Kobolds, eh? This hat's actually much nicer than I would have expected." She tosses the hat into the fireplace. She says a brief prayer to Tyr, reaches out, and plucks the hat off of Frantiska's head again, tossing this one into the fire as well. This time, no new hat appears to replace it. "There, all done." She looks at the three girls appraisingly, then motions for two of the novices. "Flax, Sarah, please start laying out supper. And then, I think, these girls should get some rest."

Lyra

Lyra will give Susalia a slight nod of greeting, and collect the books before setting her backpack and the box down next to the rest of her things.

GM

Theymr and another novice begin tossing the remaining hats in the fireplace. About 10 minutes later, Sister Sarah and Sister Flax return carrying two large trays, one piled with meats, cheeses, bread, and fruits, the other bearing four large pitchers of wine. They set them on the table and begin spreading tablecloths and laying out some dozen or so place-settings from a cupboard at the end of the room. Perhaps more important than the food, by the time they return your collective headaches are starting to feel much better.

Winona

Winona's head is starting to feel better, but she figures a stiff drink or two won't hurt. When Sarah and Flax are finished, she sits down at the table and immediately pours herself a glass of wine, downing it in one gulp. She adjusts her glasses and watches the other sisters begin making their way in for dinner. "Lyra, Franny, come have a seat. No sense going to sleep on an empty stomach."

Frantiska

Frantiska breathes a sigh of relief when the hat is removed. She sits a few minutes longer until the headache has subsided, then walks over to where Lyra is sitting. "Miss Beragaion, may I leave my things here? I want to go check on Thistledown before turning in for the night." She sets her bow, quiver, pick-axe, and bag on the bed next to Lyra's. Before heading upstairs, she checks the edge on the sword belted to her shin, but prays she won't need it until after she has had a nice long sleep.

Lyra

Lyra looks up at Frantiska.  "That's fine.  Watch out for stray arrows while you're outside."

Sitting on the bed, she rubs her temples and looks over at the sleeping Amara and closes her eyes.  For a moment, she almost seems to have fallen asleep herself.

Frantiska

Frantiska heads outside, pausing briefly to ask one of the akolytes for directions to the stables. She passes Hrud and Rant on their way back to the temple, giving them a polite nod, but does not pause in her mission. When she reaches the stables, she makes a bee-line for Thistledown, smiles appreciatively at the care that has been taken with the horse's grooming, feeding, and security, then throws her arms around the filly's neck. "Did we do the right thing in coming here?" she whispers.

Lyra

After a few minutes, Lyra snaps back to her senses with a small jerk, looking around the room.  She rubs here eyes, stretches, and takes a place at the table, heaping a plate with meat, cheese, and fruit with a small portion of bread.  As an afterthought, she pours a glass of wine.  It's been a long day.

PBM: Chapter 1: Arriving in New Phlan: Part 11

In which the party is reunited...and everyone gets a headache...

Frantiska

"Will ana a priest?" She speaks the words aloud to herself, trying to puzzle out Hrud's meaning. She leads her horse out of the alley, looking at the collapsed houses and piles of refuse, she can't help but feel deeply sorry for the people forced to live in these conditions. "Lead the way," she tells Donovan, before turning back to the barbarian. "Melvaunt adalah kota terdekat di sebelah Phlan. Sekitar tiga hari naik menuju matahari terbit. Di sisi lain rawa. Aku berhenti di sana sebentar dalam perjalanan ke sini. Jalan ini cukup berbahaya, sehingga mereka menyewa penjaga." As she speaks she starts to feel more confident, though the words still come slow. She hopes she's saying anything remotely right...

Donovan

Donovan heads for the gates, picking his way through the rubbish-choked streets, and hoping that the guards won't ask any awkward questions about why he's coming back with the same number but completely different people than he left with just a few hours ago. He steers his way past the building with the gate, hoping to find Shaddup and make sure the carnage is sufficient to keep other people from stumbling through the portal to Hell.

GM

You find the way to the old building completely blocked by rubble. Broken boards, bricks, and stones fill the street, a thick cloud of dust still hangs in the air, and at least three buildings have been flattened (not counting innumerable shanties). Climbing up on a reasonably stable-looking pile of debris, you can see that the building in question is among those that have been completely destroyed--you can just see the tail of the dead linnorm peaking up through a pile of bricks. The street looks mostly deserted. A few beggars and scavengers pick through the rubble, but there is no sign of Shaddup.

Hrud

It sounded to Hrud like the group was going to be traveling three days to Melvaunt through a dangerous swamp. Hrud shrugged. As long as he could find someone with the knowledge he sought, it didn't really matter. Besides, he thought, looking around at all the destruction, this city was apparently quite dangerous. If this was what city-life was like, he couldn't understand how the people living here had survived for so long.

Donovan

Donovan turns to Teldicia, "I guess we'll just have to trust that Shaddup was smart enough to give himself enough time to get away before the building blew." He looks around, sees a side-street the looks like it veers in mostly the right direction and marches off, trying to look like he knows exactly where he is going and is in no way lost in this labyrinth of alleys.

GM

Teldicia walks along beside Donovan, adjusting the pack on her shoulder. "Do we have a rendezvous place? I'd like to go liquidate some of this stuff before nightfall, and word in town was that most of the decent pawn-shops are out here."

Donovan

Donovan shrugs, "It sounded like Lyra suggested we meet at the Temple of Tyr before she vanished. If you're running off on your own, keep your head down and be careful, we've already seen that these slums are full of some really nasty creatures."

GM

Teldicia peels off as you finally turn back onto the Parkside Gate Road, "Alright, I'll see you at the temple early tomorrow." Ahead of you the gate stands slightly ajar, guards, inside and out, stand, polearms at the ready, ushering a steady flow of people into the city as everyone hurries to get into 'Civilized Phlan' before dusk settles. The watch captain from earlier in the day is still on duty, standing just outside the gate checking papers. He nods at Donovan, then looks at the two well-armed, mounted warriors following him. He steps in front of you and holds up a hand, "Newcomers?" he asks.

Donovan

Donovan greets the guards, "Yes, these two fine warriors aided our group in destroying the Red Hand gang. If you don't mind letting them in the gates this late in the afternoon, I was hoping to get over to the Clerk's office before it closed and get them added to our charter."

Frantiska

Frantiska nods politely to the guards. She leans over to Hrud, "Kapten penjaga ingin melihat beberapa bukti niat baik kami sebelum ia akan membiarkan kami masuk. Mr Donovan mengatakan ia akan menjamin kami dan membawa kami ke pemimpin kota untuk mendapatkan kita lisensi untuk hidup dan melakukan bisnis di kota."

Hrud

Hrud's perpetually confused expression deepened somewhat. It sounded like Dawn of Man was going to be performing some kind of rite before the keepers of the city so that he and the elf could enter the city. Maybe there would be a priest or shaman in attendance ...

GM

The watch captain looks you all over, then, hearing Hrud and Fran, speaks up, "Eraka, eh? Aku ora njaluk akeh suku panjenengan mudhun kene. Panjenengan olèh ing Phlan supaya dawa sing setuju kanggo njaga perdamaian." He waves the three of you through. "Take them strait to the Clerk," he says to Donovan.

Hrud

"Aku ngucapke matur nuwun. Mangsuli, ana sembarang imam ing kutha iki?" Hrud replies, as he passes the man.

GM

The man stops Hrud briefly, "Ana papat kuil. Apa urut saka imam sing nyoba golek?"

Hrud

"Sembarang bakal nggawe, supaya anggere padha ora Hoar, Selune, utawa Shaundakul"

Donovan

Donovan tries his hardest to follow the conversation, but fails miserably. He marches on through the gates, hangs a right and fast-walks to the Council Hall, motioning for Hrud and Fran to follow.

GM

As you near the Council Hall, Donovan spots Lyra, laden with weapons and travel gear, at about the same time she notices him, followed by a beautiful elven woman mounted on a chestnut filly and a shaggy barbarian mounted on a steppe-pony.

Lyra

Shock, surprise, and relief wash over Lyra's face.  Donovan, alive and well, with two more adventurers, and no sign of the ogress, necromancer, or weird overly-friendly elf woman.

"Mr. Donovan!"  Lyra waves, and rushes over.  She curtsies, careful not to lose balance with the new backpack.  "Mr. Shaddup didn't know where you were, and when I couldn't find you I thought something terrible might have happened on the way back to town.  I -- I'm glad you made it back safely."  She looked like she was about to start crying again.

Frantiska

Seeing the large, officious looking building, Frantiska dismounts and leads Thistledown over to a hitching post. "Ini tampak seperti tempat," she says to Hrud, still stumbling over the strange language. She ties up her horse, more to dissuade curious passersby from attempted horse-thievery than to keep the filly from running, and pulls a small pouch from the saddlebags. Not wanting to interrupt the heartfelt reunion here, she pulls a pinch of herbs and a small piece of paper from the pouch and begins rolling a cigarette. "Mau satu?" she says, offering one to the barbarian.

Hrud

Hrud wasn't exactly sure what the elf woman was trying to say about the building - it must be significant for some reason or other. He was, however, more than a little surprised to see her smoking. Was she a shaman? Perhaps she was going to take a spirit journey?

At any rate, he decided by shaking his head. Depending on exactly what it was she was rolling up, he knew people tended to react...oddly when they smoked.

Frantiska

Recognizing the look of refusal on the barbarian's face, Fran shrugs, lights the rolled paper, and leans back against the hitching post. She smokes slowly, taking long, deep pulls on the cigarette and breathing out in puffs, shaping her mouth in an 'O' to produce small rings, trying to clear her mind and calm her nerves before having to face even more unfamiliar faces.

Donovan

Donovan smiles, "Well met Lyra. You've seen Shaddup? I was a little worried that he might not have gotten far enough away from the building before it collapsed, what with those short legs of his." He waves a hand at his new companions. "These are Frantiska Sykora," he indicates the woman, "and Hrud of the Eraka. We ran into a gang of kobold horse thieves and they both proved very helpful. Teldicia and I helped Frantiska recover her horse, so she owes us one. It seems that Hrud doesn't speak the common trade tongue, but Frantiska here has been able to piece together a bit of what he says, perhaps more, since it seems that they've started chatting a bit, but from what I've gathered he is looking for a priest of some kind. Thus, I was going to see if your mother could adjust our charter to add them, and Teldicia, who has been deprived of the rest of her group..."

Lyra

"Mr. Shaddup didn't seem to hear me.  He looked injured, and I think his proximity to the explosion may have affected his hearing.  He said something about it not being the sort of party he was expecting and having enough money to fund his research, and then he headed off towards the river."  Lyra starts crying again.

Lyra regains her composure and looks over at Frantiska, and introduces herself in elven, "My name is Lyrathwen Alethiel Beragaion, although most people just call me Lyra.  It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."  She curtsies again, and looks back to Donovan.  "Apparently Brother Rant has had some dealings with the bar...."  She stops and quickly corrects herself.  "...northern tribesmen in his work for those who harp.  He may know if any of their shaman are in town.  Amara is safe and resting in the women's dormitory of the temple of Tyr.  Miss Teldicia is going to be joining us?  What happened to the rest of her group?"

Frantiska

Frantiska takes another drag on her cigarette before responding to Lyra. "Beragaion?" She says quietly, taking a hard look at Lyra's ears. "A'tel'quess?" She transfers the cigarette to her off-hand and offers the other to Lyra. "We have a lot of your kind back in Aglarond. Your surname is of the Teu'tel'quessir of Evereska, is it not?" She laughs self-consciously, "I'm sorry, where are my manners." She snaps a very precise military bow, hands held wide to her sides. "Fair be our meeting, for our hearts are light and our swords sheathed, we hold peace in our hands and its light guides us. I am Frantiska Sykora, daughter of the Simbul, Sword of Selune, and Moon Knight of Aglarond."

Hrud

Looking at Frantiska quizzically, Hrud interjects, "Selune? Ngerti dheweke?"

Frantiska

Frantiska takes a short puff, and, slowly, tries to answer Hrud's question. "Ya, aku tahu gadis bulan. ... Terang Nydra di lidah masyarakat rawa. ... Ela kepada suku-suku padang pasir. ... Lucha kepada orang-orang dari selatan. ... Selune di lidah utara. Di mana saja bulan bersinar adalah tempat untuk Selune. Sebagai bulan perak lilin dan berkurang, sehingga untuk melakukan semua kehidupan. Wanita Putih Malam adalah ibu dan guru bagi saya dan saya pedangnya."

Hrud

Hrud was having trouble understanding the woman, some of her words made sense, but not all of them  ... were those names used by people in different regions?

At any rate, it did not matter, because Hrud was certain he understood her to say that she knew Selune.

"Apa kowe isa karo dheweke?"

Maybe the answer lay with this woman ...

Frantiska

Fran rubs her temples feeling a headache coming on and trying to puzzle out what Hrud is saying. She could understand the words, she thinks, but they made no sense contextually. Finally giving up, she says, "Apa yang Anda maksud dengan kowe?" To Lyra she says, "I'm sorry, trying to speak with this man is rather tiring. If your Brother Rant can speak his language properly, I suggest we get the paperwork over-with and go find him post-haste."

Lyra

"I have a headache as well, and I'm not sure it's natural."  Lyra pulls a bit of string from her belt pouch and ties it around the handle of her knife, holding it in front of her like a pendulum, and chants as she concentrates on her surroundings.

If there's something you don't know
That you'd like to learn about
Don't sit and mope all day
I know a real good way
To help you get things figured out

The dagger swings in a circle once (with a little help) and Lyra pulls up on the string, catching the dagger in her hand.  "Synaptic Static. Stay on guard."

Hrud

Hrud thought for a long minute, then tried again, "Bisa diajak dheweke?"

Frantiska

Frantiska nods, "Dia menjawab doa-doa saya, ya." Then, to Lyra, "What is Synaptic Static?"

Hrud

Hrud looks slightly less confused, as the conversation appears to have focused him somewhat, "Bisa takon lan njaluk njawab?"

Lyra

Lyra half shrugs.  "It's a sort of ... field of psionic interference.  That's what's causing the headaches.  I suppose it could be coming from the training hall.  We should go speak to my mother and get back to the temple, maybe it's not as bad there."

Donovan

Donovan nods, "Right, now that we're all introduced, lets get the red-tape dealt with so I can go to sleep..." He pushes open the door to the Clerk's chambers and walks.

GM

You walk in to the small, cramped office to find the Clerk, her tightly bound red-hair starting to fray at the edges from a long day of dealing with new immigrants, sitting slumped in her chair, her elbows propped on the big desk, staring at a very long scroll, half of which has unrolled onto the floor in front of the desk. As Frantiska moves to follow Donovan in, the Clerk's eyes peak up from the paper and one of her hands shoots out sharply to point at a large sign that reads "No Smoking" in not only the common tongue, but at least twelve other scripts. "Mr. Donovan, back already?"

Lyra

Lyra looks around one last time, as if there would be some apparent source for the psionic interference, before heading into the clerk's office.

Frantiska

Frantiska stops in the doorway, flicks the embers off the end of her cigarette, pinches the charred end, and sticks the half-burned roll back into her pouch. As she walks in, she remarks to Hrud, "Ya, jika doa saya tulus, maka mereka akan dijawab."

Donovan

Donovan looks at the tail-end of the oversized scroll and is suddenly very glad that he decided to become an adventurer this morning. "Sorry, Deb, we don't mean to take up too much of your time. Our little outing to the Slums this afternoon was more exciting than expected. We've just got two small orders of business to take care of...well, maybe three or four." He takes his glasses off and rubs his temples. "First, I wanted to see if there was a reward posted for dismantling the Red Hands gang. Second I need to file a death certificate for Mr. Gendry who was in here with us earlier. Third, I need to have our charter amended--to remove Mr. FitzTeldar, who is deceased, and Mr. McPillflup, who has decided to retire to his research, and add Ms. Teldicia, who I believe was in here earlier as well with a different party, and these two fine folk behind me...and I suppose also to have Ms. Teldicia's other charter annulled, due to the death of three of her companions and the dissolution of her group." He sighs, "And I guess I need to fill out death certificates for her companions..."

Donovan begins fishing in his bag for a quill and, without a word, pulls the second chair around to his side of the desk, anticipating the mountain of paperwork he's going to have to deal with...

Lyra

Lyra winces and rubs her temples.  Clearly the cause of the headaches is still ongoing.  "Mr. Donovan, do you need help with the paperwork?"

GM

The Clerk rolls the scroll up and sets it aside. She squints at you and messes with her ear, somehow looking even more tired and haggard by the second. "Four death certificates, two new immigrants, and two charter changes? I do not approve of your definition of a few small orders of business, Donovan." She opens the cabinet behind her and pulls out several stacks of paper, laying them on her desk, then a large ledger which she flips through. "There is a small reward posted for dealing with the Red Hands." She pushes the stack of papers across to Donovan. "I'll need to go get it from the vault. You can start filling out the rest while you wait." She stands and exits the room by the door behind the desk.

Lyra

Four death certificates?  Wouldn't sudden extra-planar travel technically be missing-and-presumed-dead, not dead dead?  Lyra peeks over Donovan's shoulder as he fills out the death certificates, to confirm the casualties beyond Vince and Gendry.  "I can help with the immigration forms if you'd like, Ms. Frantiska."

Frantiska

Frantiska walks in and looks at the forms, "I should be able to handle it, thank you. Besides, legal documents always use such interesting language..."

Hrud

Standing awkwardly in the doorway, Hrud glanced around at the various racks of scrolls, stacks of paper and occasional book filling the office. There were a few in his tribe who could read, but he was not one of them. Old Skadi had tried to teach him when he was young, but got fed up and quit after only a day. Skadi said all his questions made his head hurt. As far as Hrud was concerned, if he had someone to answer his questions, then he didn't need to read the answer which may or may not be true, anyway. One could never be to trusting of the written word, especially when you had no way of know who wrote them or why.

Paper was good for one thing, though: wiping. While the clerk was gone, Hrud attemped to discretely slide a small stack of papers up under his breastplate. There weren't many broad-leaved trees or shrubs on The Ride.

Frantiska

Frantiska walks quickly over to Hrud, her boots ringing against the floor, and, for the first time, looks him strait in the eye, her gaze fixed like a reproving mother. "Tidak ada Hrud. Mencuri itu salah." She sticks her hand out as if demanding the papers he has taken.

Hrud

Hrud was completely shocked. He never been approached or spoken to in this manner by a /woman/. His first instinct was rage, but Hrud reminded himself that he was not on the Ride, he was in a city. Things were different here ... very different, apparently. Had the woman really intended to challenge him, she probably would have had a weapon drawn - that, or she was very confident in her abilities.

"Sing swara bakal njaluk sampeyan matèni antarane Eraka, wadon. Rahayu kita ora ngolah."

Holding her gaze, Hrud reached down and pulled his breastplate out to let the papers fall to the floor*.

Donovan

Donovan looks up from the stack of papers and offers them to Lyra, "Which would you like?"

Hearing Hrud's voice rise, he looks over and notices the papers laying on the ground, and peaking out from under Hrud's breastplate. He curses under his breath. "Fran, you might want to inform our friend that spying is the only crime guaranteed to get you executed in this town. He can beat up all the merchants he wants for their pocket change and it'll only get him thrown over the wall at night, where a man of his assets will probably have a fighting chance. Stealing documents from the Council will get his head removed from his shoulders faster than Tyr can say "Justice", which is pretty damn fast I imagine."

He perks up suddenly and swears again. "I think I hear her coming back. Lyra, can you help them get that cleaned up before the Clerk notices things missing from her desk..."

Lyra

Lyra scoops up the papers and quickly begins organizing them.

Frantiska

Frantiska continues to glare at Hrud for the moments it takes her to realize that he is disparaging her gender. Without another word she punches him hard in his unprotected throat. "Beruntung bagi Anda, Anda maksud," she says as he slumps to the floor.

Donovan

Donovan looks rather terrified as the big man crumples to the ground. "Umm...that's one way to tell him, I guess..." He begins frantically filling out forms in a hurry.

Hrud

Lightning rips across a sky the color of blood; deafening thunder shakes and cracks the mountains, bringing them low. A ring of fire rages, dancing tongues of flames reaching in vain to the heavens. In the center stands Hrud, screaming incoherently and hacking away at the remains of a chocolate-colored filly, his broad sword so covered in gore that the naked blade can no longer be seen.

"Enough."

The voice is barely a whisper, but clearly heard. With the chaos around him, there is no way he could have heard it. Besides, there is no one here, no one but Hrud, who raises his sword for another strike ...

"Enough"

The barbarian stops mid-stroke. The ring of fire persists but makes no noise. The sky is now a deep velvet black, filled with stars from one horizon to the next. There is no trace of the storm. Towering over the flames are row upon row of spectral figures, numbering far more than Hrud could count. There are no distinguishing features, but somehow, he can tell their eyes are all fixed upon him.

"Let go of the rage"

He can't tell how he knows, but he /knows/ that the voice is not coming from any of the figures. Where is it coming from? There is a soft whiny behind him; Hrud whirls to see the elf woman's horse standing behind him, alive and very much alive and unharmed. He raises his sword, somewhat uncertain - he knows what he wants to do (or, rather, what his people would have expected of him) but is not sure what he should do ...

"You have been set apart"

The voice comes from somewhere above or behind or /beyond/ the silent sentinels. As the point of his sword dips toward the ground, Hrud notices the blood and bits of meat slide off of it as cleanly as if here were drawing it from a sheath. The blade is no longer metal, but something different - Hrud finds it impossible to articulate how - it's still a sword, but a different kind of sword. The fire continues to rage around him, but the color of the flames slowly change from an bright red to a shimmering golden yellow.

"Seek me."

The horse trots to the edge of the ring and passes through, disappearing into the night. Where it passed through the flames, they are extinguished, leaving a wide opening. Hrud slowly makes his way to the edge of the ring.

"Be free."

Hrud can just barely make out the hoof prints shimmering faintly in the night, despite being unable to see the ground itself. He takes a breath and steps into the unknown. Immediately the fire dies out leaving him in darkness. Two final words follow him.

Gradually, he becomes aware of the hard wooden planks beneath him. More than that, the sharp burning sensation at his throat. He makes a few difficult swallows, and opens his eyes. The elf woman is standing over him, looking none-too-pleased.

This woman felled him with a single blow.  The shame of that realization burns as much as his throat, but his initial desire for revenge is replaced by something else.

The barbarian resists the urge to unsheathe his sword so he can look at the blade, thinking the gesture would be taken as an attack. Instead, he reaches up under his breastplate and pulls out the remaining few sheets of paper he tried to hide. Holding them up for Frantiska to take, he croaks out the last two words whispered to him in the darkness  ...

"No ... wipe."

GM

The door at the back opens and the Clerk walks in. She seems to pay no attention to the man lying on the floor, or the scattered papers, save for the slightest eye-roll as if to say "adventurers are weird" or "why is it always the crazy ones" or "why me". She resumes her seat and hands a pouch containing two small flasks to Donovan. "Here you go. The standard reward for disposing of one of the Slums gangs is two potions from the Council's stock. Those are potions of vitality, they should help keep you from having to come back so often..."

Frantiska

Hearing Hrud's comment, Frantiska smiles down at him, stifling a laugh and once again avoiding looking the man in the eyes. She takes the proffered papers, hands them to Lyra, then offers Hrud a hand to help him up. "Kula nyuwun pangapunten babagan. Sampeyan gulu oke?"

Hrud

"Aku ora mati dina iki," Hrud rasps.

Lyra

Lyra flips through the papers and adds them to the most reasonably appropriate positions in the stack.  "Is the assistant clerk still on duty, or has she left for the day?"

GM

The Clerk grunts softly and pushes against her eyes with the heel of her hands before answering Lyra. "The assistant clerk went to find herself lodgings. She'll be back in the morning. If you have specific business with her, I'd suggest looking at Mother's Boarding House, as, given her desperation for work, it's probably the only place inside the city walls within her means." She yawns and shakes her head. "Are you quite finished yet, Mr. Leitch?"

Donovan

Donovan takes the pouch with the potion flasks and hurriedly scribbles out the last few pages of death certificates--he didn't even know the guys anyways. "Here you go Deb, sorry to bother you this late in the day. Thanks for the potions, these should definitely come in handy." He stands and turns to go. "Is he okay?" he asks Lyra and Frantiska, gesturing at Hrud with his chin.

Lyra

"That was quite a punch, but he seems to be recovering."  Lyra tilts her head a bit, as if trying to hear something in the distance.  "And the headaches should be going away.  It stopped..."

"Ugh.  Looks like I spoke too soon."

Lyra grumbles to herself  "Is someone trying to annoy the entire town?  This shouldn't even be able to happen for more than a couple minutes without some serious power behind it."

She speaks up again.  "I may be able to triangulate the source based on where it seems to let up.  But one, I'm not sure we can assume it is a stationary source, and two, anything powerful enough to keep going this long, I'm not sure I want anywhere near."

Donovan

"If you can track down the source of my hangover and kill it, all your drinks from now on will be on my tab." Donovan heads out the door, grumbling and rubbing harder at his temples. "I've had enough of this. I'm ready to gouge my bloody eyes out. I'm going to bed." He turns and starts walking towards the docks. "Assuming I can sleep this off and my head doesn't explode in the middle of the night, I'll see you all outside the The Waiting just after sun-up."

Lyra

Lyra places the papers back on the desk and looks at Donovan's retreating figure.  "But what about...."

She looks over at Frantiska and Hrud.  "To the temple of Tyr, then?  I wonder if priests can cure headaches."

Frantiska

Frantiska bows to the Clerk, says a brief "thank you", and walks out of the office. "Hrud, tampak seolah-olah sudah waktunya bagi kita untuk meninggalkan," she says over her shoulder.

Once out of the building, she immediately begin rolling another cigarette, hoping that the nicotine might help take the edge off. She turns to Lyra and asks, in a strained voice, "You say you think some magic is the cause of our collective pain?"

Lyra

Lyra shifts the box she's holding to the crook of her elbow so she can rub her eyes.  "Given the symptoms, I believe it may be psionic rather than magical in origin.  One of my tutors in Waterdeep was ... gifted."

Frantiska

Frantiska looks confused, "Is the difference that significant?"

Lyra

Lyra considers that statement.  "I suppose there is not much difference from a spell that requires concentration to continue the effect."  She actually perks up a little at that.  "But this particular effect covers a fairly large area.  Dozens of yards, at least.  They could be almost anywhere.  Where were you when it started?  I didn't feel it in the weapon shop until I came over here.  If we walk up that way and it stops, it's probably on the opposite end of the city."

Frantiska

Frantiska lights the cigarette and takes a long pull. "If the area is as large as you say, this could cause a substantial public health problem. Donovan might be right--we may want to find the source of this and dispose of it. How much do you really know about psionics? Are there particular creatures that cause effects like this? If so, what other abilities might they possess?"

Hrud

Thinking the punch must have confused him (more than normal), Hrud was only able to understand Frantiska's mention of leaving. He started to follow them out, making sure to stay just outside the unexpectedly strong elf woman's reach.