Archive for June 26th, 2011

The pursers office. A stiff breeze through the windows, and the rotund purser spoke to the crew of the Purpyl Wyrm +3 in his dock-shanty as though they were his newfound allies. He had two subjects of utmost importance. The first was the stack of 100 cartons of fine freeport wine, available for 100 gold per case and guaranteed to garner twice that in any port in the Three Seas.

His second topic of conversation was to grill the party on any precious metals or gems they would like to convert into gold pieces. He pointed out the large and re-inforced safe in the corner of his office. If they would deposit any such material to his office he would get a good return on it he next day for a small ten percent fee. The crew declined unanimously.

Moving on, he reminded them to come to the docks at dusk, where he would speak to the assembled crowd about the Snake tongue cult, which he assured them was a very worthy cult. He then looked around to make sure none were eavesdropping and opened his cloak to reveal hundreds of citizenship badges, and told them that he was offering any who signed up the chance to call freeport home., with all the advantages that entailed. (It turns out not too many.) One benefit it offered was the chance to vote in the upcoming election to determine the new King Merchant of the freeport.

The heroes of this tale assured the head purser Pellew that they would indeed see him at dusk and hear his words. THen the went to the tattoo parlor and began an intense session of trying to pick out which tattoos to get. Now, I would like to interject an out of game observation. It was hilarious to see how much like an actual tattoo parlor scene this must have played out, as each of the players tried to pick out exactly which tattoo they wanted. It was funny.

the Tattoo Parlor. It was a tent, shaded by gently curving palm trees on the sandy shore of the Larb’rd Docks, the shadiest part of freeport in more ways than than sun blocking. An arcane tattooist who called himself Al Mirage, offered them three choices. For 1,000 gold they could get the Quick-step tattoo, a popular choice. But for an additional thousand or two, they could get the rare “Arcane eye” added to the tattoo, which blasts a foe with a ray of pure force whenever they are injured and bloodied by an attack.

By the time the they finished up in the tattoo parlor, it was almost dusk, so the officers decided to head towards the puresers office back on the outer docks. Along the way they met up with two of the ships crew who announced they would lke a promotion to become officer candidates. One was a githzerai monk named Cheeto. (Hey wait a minute, didnt they slay all the gith on board when they captured the ship?) The other was an elf cleric-druid, whose name is impossible to recount here, being the names of seven wise owls known to the elf’s people. We shall call him 7-O.

The purser was standing on a stage, and next to him a boy began playing a tune on his flute while he began his speech. Pellew said it was nfair that they only have the four lords of the Merchant Houses and he proposed a fifth choice – the head priest of the Snaketongue cult and as he said this he was becoming more and more agitated and frothing at the mouth, and Poppy saw he had a forked tongue. WHen he raised his hands high in the air to proclaim everyone presnt to the side of the Snaketongue cult, a riot erupted, and they saw that a small serpent was twined about his arm plunging its fangs into his wrist. The flutist was playing as fast and loudly at possible, and it seemed the boy was trying to pull the flute from his lips.

Half the crowd immediately sided with the snaketongue cultist, and this unfortunately included the monk CHeeto. This monk spent almost the entirety of the battle beating on anyone who opposed the idea of a bright new snaketongue cultist future, which worked out, as we shall see. This eventually led to him standing shin deep in hot dog pans, a low point in an auspicious career.

From Pellew two spectral snakes sprung from his hands and he used them as whips, one was thorn covered and the o0ther had sperctral jaws. Additionally 5 members of the crowd pulled venom dripping daggers from under their brown cloaks and terrorized those who opposed the cult. A wild brawl ensued. Poppy used her mage hand to tear the flute form the boys lips, and he survived, to be questioned later.

As if this werent enough, in the midst of tearing out another enemy’s heart with her bare teeth, Felipe chanced to glance up and see see the mast of her ship was listing to the side. Heart forgotten, she sped towards the boat just as an entire army of fish scaled humanoids erupted from the water along the length of the long dock, with deadly tridents and nets in their clawed fists. It took her a moment to tear threw them, with CHeeto’s help, as he decided the enemy of his enemy is hsi friend, and slew the fishy sahaugin wherever he could. Redeemed, he still gave the unilluminated crew of the Pyrpyl Wyrm a savage kick whenever he could.

Though the battle was intense with dozens of foes everywhere one turned, the heroes of the tale managed to slaughter cultists and sahaugin alike, and along the way, they noticed the sahaugin that when Pellew was finally killed, his body splashing into the sea, the sahaugin called off their attack and dove into the sea.

In the aftermath of the battle, the ship was saved froma great hole punched in its bottom. Three chibi fanaton were beheaded by the sahagin raid, and the hold was looted for anything of value – which wasnt much.

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In an interesting twist to fate, the fabric of reality itself shifted to result in your humble evil dungeon master not DM’ing this week’s session of D and D. Ah no, he was a player instead, in the session DM’ed by his apprentice, his minion and henchman, his heir and son, DM Jibber Jabber we shall call him. I also sometimes call him Jackson Delaney, but only when I am especially angry at his antics. This week his antics were spot on, and the dragonborn vampire-paladin Lord Frost made his appearance in the party out to explore the mystery of the dark legacy of Evard.

We were in a basement it seems: a dank cellar below an abandoned manor house, repurposed into a bandit hideout. The bandits were devil-men. Their skin was red, they had horns and tails, and things seemed to catch fire too close around them. This did not stop Lord Frost, the bringer of cold, from engaging in such nefarious activities in the subterranean depths and he charged in with gusto. Their were two rooms full of the devils. One on the left Lord Frost pretty much ignored. The minotaur Jack had stripped his last devil foe of its burning bastard sword, and now wielded it with as much precision as he had his previous rapier.

But in the room ahead, the foes were not so easily defeated and it seems as though Lord Frost was struck with a weapon he least expected from such ignoble foes – the blast of radiance. He fell to his knee, bloodied by the blow, but the white-hot invisible flames continued to tear into his vampirical flesh. He prayed to five headed Bahamut – Why have you forsaken me great draconis? Must I suffer the privations of undead-like flesh, and a proclivity for blood for you? I am a paladin of the five headed dragon, out to to god and justice for those deserving?

The holy prayer went unanswered and Lord frost fell to the ground his pearlescent scales blackening under the radiance he could never wield again. Luckily the rest of the party slew his foes and a rune priest drove the radiance from his body just before he went to the open embrace of the five slavering maws of Bahamut.

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