Snow sits down, eyes lingering on the fourth riverman in the private booth, before breaking his gaze away to focus on those at the table. “Idder and Sufyan are gone, it is true, and permanently it seems. Along with my coin”, he says pursing his lips and shaking his head. “Which leaves me in an awkward position”.
He takes another glance toward the private booth, curious as to the identity of the other occupant.
“Which is where you folk might be of some help to me”, he continues, turning his attention back to those at the table with a dazzling smile. “In order to carry on my journey, I need to replace the funds that were stolen, along with the deck hands lost. And so I am seeking paying passengers, rather urgently in fact”.
He puts his hands on the shoulders of the two next to him. “You folk must know the best place to find such passengers. What do you say, help a fellow out?”, he says giving their shoulders a gentle squeeze, and locking eyes with each of them in turn.
Snow peeks past the fourth man, who is invited into the booth to sit opposite a middle-aged chimp woman, nicely dressed in Kingdoms style, her eyes beautifully made up, piercing and intelligent, and peering out from under a large curved sunhat. She and the riverman seem to be negotiating.
The man to Snow’s right smiles back and replies, “Sure, boss. We all fall on hard times now and then. You’re in the right place. This is where you can pick up business heading down to Ishi Ammah.” Scanning the next room, he spots a young Jenghen woman batting her lashes at Snow, and continues, “I think she’s looking for passage.”
“Looking for something,” the second man jokes, boorishly, to which the first man chuckles.
“For passage north… that’s not our route, and it’s more regulated. You’d have to register at the Salakta Guild Hall.”
At that moment, the tavern door is thrown open, and a stocky woman wearing the pale blue and dagger moon sigil of the Empire over a Tahesian toga strides in, pulling the scarf off of her broad, pockmarked face and making a beeline for the stage, where the musicians interrupt their playing with a staccato fanfare. All conversation comes to a halt as all eyes turn to the woman, who announces that she bears important news.
“An attempt was made last night on the life of The Princess Layla Kahina, Shian Dauphin and Regent!”
Gasps of astonishment come from every corner of the room.
“Ritha Demsha has willed that The Princess live, and The Princess is unharmed!”
Shouts of relief.
“A fugitive, accused of this treachery has escaped and is guilty of high treason. His name is Granophyre Strewn, an elderly dwarf.”
“The… author?,” comes a shout from the middle room. Indeed, Snow has read more than one treatise by a dwarf named Granophyre Strewn — required reading in his archeological studies.
“One and the same!,” replies the crier, who continues, “The city gates are to be locked at sunset, and all Kalahati-ur are ordered to remain in their homes until the fugitive is caught, by order of Governor Ulloz. You have until sundown to complete your business for the day, after which, the garrison will question or incarcerate any individual found on the streets.”
She then rushes out, to consternation and growling among the locals, on to the next public gathering place to repeat the announcement, but not before handing a parchment upon which her remarks are inscribed to the bartender, a young Shian woman, who tacks it upon a board near the entrance.
The rivermen next to Snow exchange disbelieving glances.
“You might not want to be here when the city locks down, friend,” the first one says. “I’d get moving with my business if I were you.”
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DM for Deathworld: Lost Mine of Phandelver// Story Guide for COYOTE and CROW: Cahokia Forever//Dev Horndin Curious Critters//Co-creator: Princes of the Apocalypse - A DnD Story
Snow listens to the rivermen intently, disregarding the joke about the Jenghen woman, along with talk of travel to Ishi Ammah. That was where he had come from, he had no interest in retracing his steps. As they speak about the regulated travel North, he winces slightly, it seems his luck at the moment had truly run foul.
He wonders if Idder and Sufyan had known about registering at the Salakta Guild Hall, or whether they had intended to leave him stranded in Kalahatar all along. He inwardly curses his naivety, he should never have been taken in by those fools. Which meant he was the even bigger fool.
He listens along with everyone else to the proclamation regarding the Princess, and Granophyre Strewn and most importantly about the lockdown of the city. It was official, he must have done something to anger the gods for this string of bad luck. He couldn't help but wonder though, what Granophyre Strewn was doing attempting to murder the Princess.
He shakes himself out of his introspection, time was of the essence. "Tell me my friends, where is this Salakta Guild Hall? And what would I need to register?", he asks quickly adding another question. "Are there river docks North of the city as well, will I be safe if I can get my sloop through the city before they shut it down?"
“Going north, eh?” The two exchange a glance, deciding who will bring you up to speed. The first man takes a breath and his eyes return to you. “Okay. Salakta amboule is within the old city walls, just north of Benepota amboule, where we are now. The guild hall overlooks the canal. You can’t miss it. They’ll ask for a few gold... maybe 5 Jenghen (i.e., 5GP), and then you’re in the queue. As far as getting your sloop through town, it shouldn’t be a problem. Once you know what you’re doing, take down the mast, hire a steer or camelman, and they’ll tow you to the northern docks. It’s busier up there than at this end, but…” and here, he seems to be hiding something, “...but, we just prefer the straight shot down to Ishi Ammah and points between.
“As for this curfew… I don’t know. I’m not planning to be within the walls after dark, for sure.” His voice drops to a whispered growl. “The flocking Imperials think they own the city – and everywhere else. Let ‘em see what happens if they push too hard.” If Snow asks him to elaborate, he demures, back to his normal tone of voice. “That’s all I’m saying. Living on the river has its perks. One of them is ya have more freedom and you’re not under anyone’s thumb. Speaking of the river…”
The fourth man now returns to the table, nods to the other three “C’mon,” and heads toward the door. The men you’ve been speaking with slurp down the last of their mead and stand.
“Good luck, boss,” they say. “If you need help taking down the mast, we’re not pushing off until the morning, so… you know where to find us.”
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DM for Deathworld: Lost Mine of Phandelver// Story Guide for COYOTE and CROW: Cahokia Forever//Dev Horndin Curious Critters//Co-creator: Princes of the Apocalypse - A DnD Story
Snow listens intently to what the rivermen have to say about journeying north, rubbing his chin and nodding as they do so. Their fervour regarding the Imperials was of concern, as was their reason for sticking to the southern route. But he really didn't have a choice at this point but to trust their word, or abandon the boat and walk north.
He offers his hand to each of the men in turn, "My thanks, you have been most helpful, and I will certainly need your assistance with the mast".
He starts wrapping the scarves around his head and neck as they leave, not wanting to waste any time in getting to the Salakta Guild Hall. By his count he should have enough coin to register, and hopefully to hire the steer or camelman. But there was still the problem of the docking fees he'd accrued up to now. One thing at a time..
He makes his way out of the tavern and heads for the inner gate to Salakta Amboule, keeping a watchful eye out for trouble and a hand on his coin purse.
When Snow leaves the tavern, the mood of the city has shifted slightly, an air of tension conveyed and heightened by the clenched jaws and taut shoulders of passers by. A camel rider wearing imperial livery rips past at a gallop, forcing Kalahati-ur to throw themselves out of harm’s way. Only an hour ago, people were ambling about their daily chores and tasks, stopping to chat or exchange greetings at least while keeping urchins at bay with deadly stares, whereas now, they hurry about, and it is harder to mind your belongings in the rush, but easier to move with haste yourself.
The sun is high now and the temperature, quite warm, though not baking. The clouds seem to press the heat in place while painting the city in monochromatic silvers. You pass a six-story hotel on the corner, seemingly covered in vines, and then walk through the interior citygates to Salakta amboule, and there, you find the Kalahata Guildhall, built in a refined fashion upon the plaza facing the canal. The doors are open atop wide stone steps.
A functionary at a desk greets you as you enter, and asks in Shian, “Good day, brother. To which guild do you belong, and are you caught up on dues? Oh, the shipping log… Certainly, follow me.” He takes you to an adjoining chamber while chatting. “It’s less expensive to register for cartage service if you’re a guild member in good standing. But for… internationals… such as yourself, you really just have to pay the service in full. 10GP. I add your name and vessel to the log, and you tell me where she’s moored. When your turn comes in the queue, a runner informs you. Simple. Well... of course with the Empire flexing its muscle unasked and this lockdown... no promises after sunset.”
In the next room, the man – human, middle-aged, balding, with long sideburns – pulls open a drawer, removes a ledger, and flips to a bookmark, a page for today’s date, the 2nd of Grandeur. You note that there are a dozen vessels and names listed before the first blank row.
“All right. Name, vessel, tonnage, route or destination, expected departure date?” He licks the tip of a quill pen, dips it in ink, and awaits your response, hand poised over the ledger.
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DM for Deathworld: Lost Mine of Phandelver// Story Guide for COYOTE and CROW: Cahokia Forever//Dev Horndin Curious Critters//Co-creator: Princes of the Apocalypse - A DnD Story
Snow follows the man into the room and subtly pushes the door behind him, not so much as to close it and make noise, but enough to block most vision between rooms. "Ah yes the lockdown is going to cause a lot of consternation it seems, and unnecessary delays", he says in a friendly tone. "My vessel is the Animu Borongo moored at the southern river docks. A 20' sloop with minimal cargo. Just supplies for my travels", he explains, removing his violin from his back as he does so.
"As for my route and date of my departure", he continues, "well I am looking to go north up the Sebu river into the Vale of Deshar as soon as possible, which means I am looking to get my vessel to the northern docks today".
Before the man can turn and speak, he changes the conversation, "Are you musical at all?", he asks as he lifts his violin to his chin and takes the bow and runs it along the strings lightly, quietly playing a relaxing melody (think Jules Massenet - Meditation from Thais).
The man finishes his entry, then seems to stop, spellbound, as Snow plays a tender, impassioned melody from the Kingdoms, to which the Saraswati Violin adds its own accompaniment, anticipating the half-elf’s harmonies and rhythms.
The door creaks open and two heads slowly poke in, one above the other, slack-mouthed and awestruck. When you finish, the three clap quietly, and the first one effuses.
“Oh wow. You really know how to play that.. thing. Are you heading up to one of the dacha’s to entertain? And gosh, brother, the instrument, whatever it is, is like a work of art. I’m a master joiner and I’ve never seen its equal. Is it… elf-grown?”
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DM for Deathworld: Lost Mine of Phandelver// Story Guide for COYOTE and CROW: Cahokia Forever//Dev Horndin Curious Critters//Co-creator: Princes of the Apocalypse - A DnD Story
As Snow finishes playing he closes his eyes and draws the bow across the strings one last time, concentrating on the vibrations inside the violins hollow body. He feels the connection within to the source of power he has learned to harness, and draws on it, speaking an incantation quietly in Elvish as his fingers dance across the strings. He wills the magical energy into his being, and opens his eyes, small flames dancing for the briefest of moments across each hazel iris.
He gives a quick bow to his small audience and when his head comes back up it is with a look of consternation. “I am indeed an emissary from The Tree passing through Kalahatar and heading to one of the dacha’s as you cleverly surmise”, he says picking up on the talk of Elves.
“My friends, I believe I can trust you with my tale, or more accurately my ordeal. Unfortunately I have been robbed by two men I hired in Isha Ammah to help sail my sloop to the Vale of Deshar!”, he says pausing just a moment for that to sink in. “And I have since found out that these men were murdered and my coin irretrievably lost”, he says gravely.
“This is a delicate matter, and one that must be handled with the utmost secrecy, for if it were to become known I was robbed and left stranded in the city it would cause a scandal no-one in Kalahatar would want. Especially with the closing of the gates and talk of treason”, he continues with a shake of his head.
“I, and your city, need your help to ensure that does not come to pass”, he says finally.
The three guildsmen stand there, mouths falling open, spellbound by Snow’s story, hanging on every word, and completely invested in the outcome.
This occurs without magical support: Snow realizes that something is keeping his spellcasting from functioning. Wards are everywhere in The Kingdoms, and the logical explanation is that a Ward is in use here. An arcane symbol is engraved over the doorway. A reasonable assumption would be that it is countering his spell. Yet still, following Snow’s performance (and high Deception roll, even without advantage), the three accept the bard’s story unquestioningly.
“Rags,” whispers the second one, speaking to the first, “Close the door.”
The first man peeks outside then closes the door. “Sure, sure, brother,” he whispers. Then, to Snow, “But… what can we do?”
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DM for Deathworld: Lost Mine of Phandelver// Story Guide for COYOTE and CROW: Cahokia Forever//Dev Horndin Curious Critters//Co-creator: Princes of the Apocalypse - A DnD Story
A look of relief (some genuine) can be seen on Snow's face. "It is good to know I have friends in the Kalahata Guildhall, and that they are patriots", he says approvingly.
"The way I see it is I have two main issues to resolve. Firstly", he motions to the ledger with the list of 12 boats prior to his, "is the issue of my place in the queue. If I am to be out of Kalahatar before the gates are shut I need to be at the top".
"Secondly", he continues, "is the issue of coin, or lack thereof. I need coin for the southern river dock mooring fees, coin for transport through the city and coin to moor in the northern docks until I can hire additional hands to continue my journey". He takes on a crestfallen visage, "Unless these fees can be somehow waived or deferred, all is lost", he finishes off looking pleadingly at the three guild workers.
The first man, Baragsen, replies after a moment of chin scratching. “Ok, brother, I can help with that. Not everyone is looking for a vessel your size, or headed north, or leaving today. But I’ll watch incoming requests and, if anyone needs you, I’ll invoke special privileges to bump you up.”
“As for coin… can one of you show him to the Elven Embassy? I bet they’ll be happy to help out a countryman.”
“Sure thing, Rags,” answers the second man. All three make to escort Snow from the room and to the guildhall entrance.
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DM for Deathworld: Lost Mine of Phandelver// Story Guide for COYOTE and CROW: Cahokia Forever//Dev Horndin Curious Critters//Co-creator: Princes of the Apocalypse - A DnD Story
Snow closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath and exhales slowly before locking his gaze on Baragsen. "Thank you my friend...Rags, is it?", he says offering his hand to shake. "In truth I had hoped to avoid the embarrassment of going to the Elven Embassy and admitting my situation, but you are right, this is not the time for pride".
He follows their lead and heads to the guildlhall entrance, happy that his visit has been partially successful. It had been a long shot that these folk would be able to waive his fees, but with a bit of luck he would at least have the opportunity to move his sloop north today. And Idiwala knows he was due a bit of luck.
As they stand at the entrance he looks at the three of them, "You have given me hope, and renewed my faith in people. I will need to come back this way on my return journey, and will surely pay you a visit. In the meantime, stay safe and keep your heads down. There is an air of trouble to come about the city right now", he says as he waits for directions, or one of them to guide him to the embassy.
The two guildsmen, who introduce themselves as Ziri and Usus, walk you out the door, confer for a moment, and then the younger one, Usus, a journeyman, continues to lead you onward, farther north into the city. Just before the guildhall is a dry dock and one bustling river pier extending to the canal. A bosun is yelling herself bright red in the face, the stevedores responding as if whipped into action, rushing to finish loading. The sun has begun its slow trek down the western skies. A troop of armored garrison men in imperial livery march past.
Usus, the journeyman, walks Snow northwards as far as the gate into El Harrouch, but stops short.
“Um, mister, the embassies are in El Harrouch, but they’ve locked the gate. I didn’t even know it closed, it’s always been open.” The pair face a barred portcullis, guarded on either side and above by Dwear’l’Harrouch, élite Shian fighters. Usus scratches his head for a minute, then looks left, where a small barge floats out of El Harrouch downriver on the canal, pulled by a pair of oxen. “At least, they’re still letting riverboats through.”
“I don’t know mister. I’m only a journeyman so I should bite my tongue, but… Why don’t you add the tow and gate fees to whatever you’re charging for passage north? That’s what the canal barges do.”
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DM for Deathworld: Lost Mine of Phandelver// Story Guide for COYOTE and CROW: Cahokia Forever//Dev Horndin Curious Critters//Co-creator: Princes of the Apocalypse - A DnD Story
Snow looks at the portcullis and guards, and then to Usus. "Do you get the feeling they don't want to let anyone in?", he says with a chuckle.
"Right you are Usus, that sounds like a plan. I was a little worried about adding those fees and the moorage fees I have already accumulated, but in truth if anyone wants passage right now they are going to be as desperate as I am and likely willing to pay", he says more seriously.
He looks back the way they had come, at the throng of people from all walks of life, then holding one hand above his eyes to shield them, up at the sun. "I need to be back at my sloop, and quick. I will say my goodbye here, and make haste. Thanks Usus", he says performing a quick salute from his temple with two fingers.
And with that he heads off at a jog back through the crowd, heading for the Animu Borongo, once more keeping one hand on his coin pouch. His intention being to find those rivermen on the neighbouring barge to help with the mast.
Snow’s return trek through the city, due to the rush of the Kalahati-Ur, broken by garrison patrols going door-to-door — to arrest individuals who are plainly not dwarves — is beset by a lively assortment of obstacles. As he pulls up short so as not to be smashed over a barrier by an elephant, another thief tries to grab the bard’s pouch, but Snow swats their hand away deftly.
In thirty minutes he’s back at his slip, but confronting another problem. The Animu Borongo is nowhere to be seen.
The rivermen he met earlier are on the dock, loading barrels from a wagon onto their barge. One of the men he spoke to this morning detaches from the others and lopes up the landing to meet Snow.
“We tried to stop them, but they said they were owed it — your boat — as a gambling debt. They said they were Amazighs!,” this last , whispered. “You just missed ‘em, boss. There!,” and as he shouts, Snow sees the sloop drifting slowly downstream around a bend in the river 100 yards away, two men aboard, prepping the sail.
At that moment, the dock manager, a burly older chimp woman with back issues, her head at chest level, arms thick and muscular, one hand gripping her hip, the other clenched in a fist waving over her head, approaches, with an amboule guard at her heel. “There he is!,” comes her voice in a sharp gargle, “His boat took off without paying the slip fee!! Get him!” The guard, a Shian man, readies a net and a stanchion casually, blocking your way toward the city. The chimp woman is closing with you. (OOC: The way south, i.e., toward the Animu Borongo, is clear.)
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DM for Deathworld: Lost Mine of Phandelver// Story Guide for COYOTE and CROW: Cahokia Forever//Dev Horndin Curious Critters//Co-creator: Princes of the Apocalypse - A DnD Story
Snow throws his hands up in frustration at seeing his sloop being sailed away. He looks to the riverman and says, “Damn Idder and Sufyan, even in death they are still causing me issues”.
Seeing the dock manager approach with the guard, he slips one hand behind his back and grasps his violin, retrieving it. No time to play properly he simply holds it like a lute and plucks on one string, concentrating and feeding off the vibrations that emanate from inside. As he speaks, the sound carries those vibrations inaudibly to the ears of the guard, attempting to magically influence him.
“Quick, they are stealing my sloop, help me stop them and retrieve it”, he says to the guard whilst pointing at the sloop. Before turning and running down river towards it himself.
The guard, who did not show the greatest strength of character when he responded to the dock manager’s insistent wailing only a few minutes ago, is putty in Snow’s hands.
“They’re stealing your sloop! Follow me!,” and he tears off down the landing as the dock manager wails in anger. Behind you.
The guard leaps off the far end of the landing, and, splashing in the shallows, and then, up to a riverside path, stumbling over tree roots, huffs and puffs as he gives chase. In 10 minutes, you approach a narrow bridge over the river, which, at a sprint, you can cross half-way to pass over the Animu Borongo as its tacks downriver.
(Let’s see how Snow is doing. If he is also sprinting, please roll a CON save vs DC 15 to avoid one level of temporary exhaustion. Also please roll a DEX save vs DC 10 to avoid tripping on tree roots along the path and potentially slipping off the path into the water. You can elaborate what happens based on your rolls, but you’re basically keeping up with the guard regardless. Please post any actions you take as you approach or reach the bridge.)
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DM for Deathworld: Lost Mine of Phandelver// Story Guide for COYOTE and CROW: Cahokia Forever//Dev Horndin Curious Critters//Co-creator: Princes of the Apocalypse - A DnD Story
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Snow takes off after the guard, desperate to catch up to the sloop before it is too late...
Con Save: 9 Dex Save: 19
Trusting the guards local knowledge he follows closely after, deftly leaping from the landing and running through the shallows, his violin still in hand. He rushes up the riverside path, breathing heavily, unused to this kind of physical exertion. Spotting the guard stumble over the tree roots he is able to avoid them with far greater grace.
He sees the bridge in the distance but has to stop, bending over with one hand on his knee. A half dozen deep breaths later and he looks up, narrows his eyes and takes off again chasing the now labouring form of the guard. A look to the river shows it will be close, but one last push and he can make the bridge before the Animu Borongo floats underneath.
As his feet finally make purchase with the floor of the bridge his breath comes heavily, his vision starts to blur and the sound of his blood pumping fills his ears. But he can't relax just now and he moves on, now at a jog. He comes to a stop at the middle of the bridge, holding on to the guard as he fights for breath and stares down at the Animu Borongo coming towards them. He concentrates his mind on the technique taught him in the Kingdoms many months before, and somehow finds the focus to summon the invisible force of his Mage Hand directly in the path of the sloop.
With his Mage Hand below him ready and waiting for the sloop to pass, he purses his lips and starts to ever so quietly whistle a haunting melody, summoning once more the magical energy and strengthening it with the bond of the violin. As the sloop makes it's way into range, he projects the sound to the person at the tiller causing him to hear Dissonant Whispers.
(DC - 18 Wis Save, 9 psychic damage on a failed save and use reaction to run/swim away, half damage on a success and doesn't run/swim away)
Snow’s dissonant whispers has the desired effect. The man labeled “1” (in the map linked below) lets go of the tiller, and holds both hands over his ears, trying to squeeze out the crippling sound.
Putting two and two together, “2” sneers at Snow and yells up, “You’d better watch yourself, outlander! This boat was won fair and square. You don’t want to tangle with the Amazigh’s!”
The guard’s jaw drops open at this pronouncement, and his face, pale, turns to Snow, silently mouthing, “Amazighs!” He yells down, “That outlander is the owner of the vessel. Drop yer anchor and let me board. We don’ have to fight, let’s talk this over!”
The first man dives overboard at this moment, swimming upriver directly away from Snow as a result of his spell..
“Too late for that,” the second man yells up. He picks up a loaded crossbow and fires it at Snow from the hip, hitting for 9HP damage.
Snow’s mage hand pushes against the prow but does little to stop the forward progress of the sloop downriver, and its forward motion continues at 40’ per round.
Please Post Round 2 actions. You have the initiative.
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DM for Deathworld: Lost Mine of Phandelver// Story Guide for COYOTE and CROW: Cahokia Forever//Dev Horndin Curious Critters//Co-creator: Princes of the Apocalypse - A DnD Story
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Snow sits down, eyes lingering on the fourth riverman in the private booth, before breaking his gaze away to focus on those at the table. “Idder and Sufyan are gone, it is true, and permanently it seems. Along with my coin”, he says pursing his lips and shaking his head. “Which leaves me in an awkward position”.
He takes another glance toward the private booth, curious as to the identity of the other occupant.
“Which is where you folk might be of some help to me”, he continues, turning his attention back to those at the table with a dazzling smile. “In order to carry on my journey, I need to replace the funds that were stolen, along with the deck hands lost. And so I am seeking paying passengers, rather urgently in fact”.
He puts his hands on the shoulders of the two next to him. “You folk must know the best place to find such passengers. What do you say, help a fellow out?”, he says giving their shoulders a gentle squeeze, and locking eyes with each of them in turn.
Snow peeks past the fourth man, who is invited into the booth to sit opposite a middle-aged chimp woman, nicely dressed in Kingdoms style, her eyes beautifully made up, piercing and intelligent, and peering out from under a large curved sunhat. She and the riverman seem to be negotiating.
The man to Snow’s right smiles back and replies, “Sure, boss. We all fall on hard times now and then. You’re in the right place. This is where you can pick up business heading down to Ishi Ammah.” Scanning the next room, he spots a young Jenghen woman batting her lashes at Snow, and continues, “I think she’s looking for passage.”
“Looking for something,” the second man jokes, boorishly, to which the first man chuckles.
“For passage north… that’s not our route, and it’s more regulated. You’d have to register at the Salakta Guild Hall.”
At that moment, the tavern door is thrown open, and a stocky woman wearing the pale blue and dagger moon sigil of the Empire over a Tahesian toga strides in, pulling the scarf off of her broad, pockmarked face and making a beeline for the stage, where the musicians interrupt their playing with a staccato fanfare. All conversation comes to a halt as all eyes turn to the woman, who announces that she bears important news.
“An attempt was made last night on the life of The Princess Layla Kahina, Shian Dauphin and Regent!”
Gasps of astonishment come from every corner of the room.
“Ritha Demsha has willed that The Princess live, and The Princess is unharmed!”
Shouts of relief.
“A fugitive, accused of this treachery has escaped and is guilty of high treason. His name is Granophyre Strewn, an elderly dwarf.”
“The… author?,” comes a shout from the middle room. Indeed, Snow has read more than one treatise by a dwarf named Granophyre Strewn — required reading in his archeological studies.
“One and the same!,” replies the crier, who continues, “The city gates are to be locked at sunset, and all Kalahati-ur are ordered to remain in their homes until the fugitive is caught, by order of Governor Ulloz. You have until sundown to complete your business for the day, after which, the garrison will question or incarcerate any individual found on the streets.”
She then rushes out, to consternation and growling among the locals, on to the next public gathering place to repeat the announcement, but not before handing a parchment upon which her remarks are inscribed to the bartender, a young Shian woman, who tacks it upon a board near the entrance.
The rivermen next to Snow exchange disbelieving glances.
“You might not want to be here when the city locks down, friend,” the first one says. “I’d get moving with my business if I were you.”
DM for Deathworld: Lost Mine of Phandelver // Story Guide for COYOTE and CROW: Cahokia Forever // Dev Hornd in Curious Critters // Co-creator: Princes of the Apocalypse - A DnD Story
Snow listens to the rivermen intently, disregarding the joke about the Jenghen woman, along with talk of travel to Ishi Ammah. That was where he had come from, he had no interest in retracing his steps. As they speak about the regulated travel North, he winces slightly, it seems his luck at the moment had truly run foul.
He wonders if Idder and Sufyan had known about registering at the Salakta Guild Hall, or whether they had intended to leave him stranded in Kalahatar all along. He inwardly curses his naivety, he should never have been taken in by those fools. Which meant he was the even bigger fool.
He listens along with everyone else to the proclamation regarding the Princess, and Granophyre Strewn and most importantly about the lockdown of the city. It was official, he must have done something to anger the gods for this string of bad luck. He couldn't help but wonder though, what Granophyre Strewn was doing attempting to murder the Princess.
He shakes himself out of his introspection, time was of the essence. "Tell me my friends, where is this Salakta Guild Hall? And what would I need to register?", he asks quickly adding another question. "Are there river docks North of the city as well, will I be safe if I can get my sloop through the city before they shut it down?"
“Going north, eh?” The two exchange a glance, deciding who will bring you up to speed. The first man takes a breath and his eyes return to you. “Okay. Salakta amboule is within the old city walls, just north of Benepota amboule, where we are now. The guild hall overlooks the canal. You can’t miss it. They’ll ask for a few gold... maybe 5 Jenghen (i.e., 5GP), and then you’re in the queue. As far as getting your sloop through town, it shouldn’t be a problem. Once you know what you’re doing, take down the mast, hire a steer or camelman, and they’ll tow you to the northern docks. It’s busier up there than at this end, but…” and here, he seems to be hiding something, “...but, we just prefer the straight shot down to Ishi Ammah and points between.
“As for this curfew… I don’t know. I’m not planning to be within the walls after dark, for sure.” His voice drops to a whispered growl. “The flocking Imperials think they own the city – and everywhere else. Let ‘em see what happens if they push too hard.” If Snow asks him to elaborate, he demures, back to his normal tone of voice. “That’s all I’m saying. Living on the river has its perks. One of them is ya have more freedom and you’re not under anyone’s thumb. Speaking of the river…”
The fourth man now returns to the table, nods to the other three “C’mon,” and heads toward the door. The men you’ve been speaking with slurp down the last of their mead and stand.
“Good luck, boss,” they say. “If you need help taking down the mast, we’re not pushing off until the morning, so… you know where to find us.”
DM for Deathworld: Lost Mine of Phandelver // Story Guide for COYOTE and CROW: Cahokia Forever // Dev Hornd in Curious Critters // Co-creator: Princes of the Apocalypse - A DnD Story
Snow listens intently to what the rivermen have to say about journeying north, rubbing his chin and nodding as they do so. Their fervour regarding the Imperials was of concern, as was their reason for sticking to the southern route. But he really didn't have a choice at this point but to trust their word, or abandon the boat and walk north.
He offers his hand to each of the men in turn, "My thanks, you have been most helpful, and I will certainly need your assistance with the mast".
He starts wrapping the scarves around his head and neck as they leave, not wanting to waste any time in getting to the Salakta Guild Hall. By his count he should have enough coin to register, and hopefully to hire the steer or camelman. But there was still the problem of the docking fees he'd accrued up to now. One thing at a time..
He makes his way out of the tavern and heads for the inner gate to Salakta Amboule, keeping a watchful eye out for trouble and a hand on his coin purse.
When Snow leaves the tavern, the mood of the city has shifted slightly, an air of tension conveyed and heightened by the clenched jaws and taut shoulders of passers by. A camel rider wearing imperial livery rips past at a gallop, forcing Kalahati-ur to throw themselves out of harm’s way. Only an hour ago, people were ambling about their daily chores and tasks, stopping to chat or exchange greetings at least while keeping urchins at bay with deadly stares, whereas now, they hurry about, and it is harder to mind your belongings in the rush, but easier to move with haste yourself.
The sun is high now and the temperature, quite warm, though not baking. The clouds seem to press the heat in place while painting the city in monochromatic silvers. You pass a six-story hotel on the corner, seemingly covered in vines, and then walk through the interior citygates to Salakta amboule, and there, you find the Kalahata Guildhall, built in a refined fashion upon the plaza facing the canal. The doors are open atop wide stone steps.
A functionary at a desk greets you as you enter, and asks in Shian, “Good day, brother. To which guild do you belong, and are you caught up on dues? Oh, the shipping log… Certainly, follow me.” He takes you to an adjoining chamber while chatting. “It’s less expensive to register for cartage service if you’re a guild member in good standing. But for… internationals… such as yourself, you really just have to pay the service in full. 10GP. I add your name and vessel to the log, and you tell me where she’s moored. When your turn comes in the queue, a runner informs you. Simple. Well... of course with the Empire flexing its muscle unasked and this lockdown... no promises after sunset.”
In the next room, the man – human, middle-aged, balding, with long sideburns – pulls open a drawer, removes a ledger, and flips to a bookmark, a page for today’s date, the 2nd of Grandeur. You note that there are a dozen vessels and names listed before the first blank row.
“All right. Name, vessel, tonnage, route or destination, expected departure date?” He licks the tip of a quill pen, dips it in ink, and awaits your response, hand poised over the ledger.
DM for Deathworld: Lost Mine of Phandelver // Story Guide for COYOTE and CROW: Cahokia Forever // Dev Hornd in Curious Critters // Co-creator: Princes of the Apocalypse - A DnD Story
Snow follows the man into the room and subtly pushes the door behind him, not so much as to close it and make noise, but enough to block most vision between rooms. "Ah yes the lockdown is going to cause a lot of consternation it seems, and unnecessary delays", he says in a friendly tone. "My vessel is the Animu Borongo moored at the southern river docks. A 20' sloop with minimal cargo. Just supplies for my travels", he explains, removing his violin from his back as he does so.
"As for my route and date of my departure", he continues, "well I am looking to go north up the Sebu river into the Vale of Deshar as soon as possible, which means I am looking to get my vessel to the northern docks today".
Before the man can turn and speak, he changes the conversation, "Are you musical at all?", he asks as he lifts his violin to his chin and takes the bow and runs it along the strings lightly, quietly playing a relaxing melody (think Jules Massenet - Meditation from Thais).
The man finishes his entry, then seems to stop, spellbound, as Snow plays a tender, impassioned melody from the Kingdoms, to which the Saraswati Violin adds its own accompaniment, anticipating the half-elf’s harmonies and rhythms.
The door creaks open and two heads slowly poke in, one above the other, slack-mouthed and awestruck. When you finish, the three clap quietly, and the first one effuses.
“Oh wow. You really know how to play that.. thing. Are you heading up to one of the dacha’s to entertain? And gosh, brother, the instrument, whatever it is, is like a work of art. I’m a master joiner and I’ve never seen its equal. Is it… elf-grown?”
DM for Deathworld: Lost Mine of Phandelver // Story Guide for COYOTE and CROW: Cahokia Forever // Dev Hornd in Curious Critters // Co-creator: Princes of the Apocalypse - A DnD Story
As Snow finishes playing he closes his eyes and draws the bow across the strings one last time, concentrating on the vibrations inside the violins hollow body. He feels the connection within to the source of power he has learned to harness, and draws on it, speaking an incantation quietly in Elvish as his fingers dance across the strings. He wills the magical energy into his being, and opens his eyes, small flames dancing for the briefest of moments across each hazel iris.
He gives a quick bow to his small audience and when his head comes back up it is with a look of consternation. “I am indeed an emissary from The Tree passing through Kalahatar and heading to one of the dacha’s as you cleverly surmise”, he says picking up on the talk of Elves.
“My friends, I believe I can trust you with my tale, or more accurately my ordeal. Unfortunately I have been robbed by two men I hired in Isha Ammah to help sail my sloop to the Vale of Deshar!”, he says pausing just a moment for that to sink in. “And I have since found out that these men were murdered and my coin irretrievably lost”, he says gravely.
“This is a delicate matter, and one that must be handled with the utmost secrecy, for if it were to become known I was robbed and left stranded in the city it would cause a scandal no-one in Kalahatar would want. Especially with the closing of the gates and talk of treason”, he continues with a shake of his head.
“I, and your city, need your help to ensure that does not come to pass”, he says finally.
Cast Enhance Ability (Eagle’s Splendor)
Deception (with advantage): 25
The three guildsmen stand there, mouths falling open, spellbound by Snow’s story, hanging on every word, and completely invested in the outcome.
This occurs without magical support: Snow realizes that something is keeping his spellcasting from functioning. Wards are everywhere in The Kingdoms, and the logical explanation is that a Ward is in use here. An arcane symbol is engraved over the doorway. A reasonable assumption would be that it is countering his spell. Yet still, following Snow’s performance (and high Deception roll, even without advantage), the three accept the bard’s story unquestioningly.
“Rags,” whispers the second one, speaking to the first, “Close the door.”
The first man peeks outside then closes the door. “Sure, sure, brother,” he whispers. Then, to Snow, “But… what can we do?”
DM for Deathworld: Lost Mine of Phandelver // Story Guide for COYOTE and CROW: Cahokia Forever // Dev Hornd in Curious Critters // Co-creator: Princes of the Apocalypse - A DnD Story
A look of relief (some genuine) can be seen on Snow's face. "It is good to know I have friends in the Kalahata Guildhall, and that they are patriots", he says approvingly.
"The way I see it is I have two main issues to resolve. Firstly", he motions to the ledger with the list of 12 boats prior to his, "is the issue of my place in the queue. If I am to be out of Kalahatar before the gates are shut I need to be at the top".
"Secondly", he continues, "is the issue of coin, or lack thereof. I need coin for the southern river dock mooring fees, coin for transport through the city and coin to moor in the northern docks until I can hire additional hands to continue my journey". He takes on a crestfallen visage, "Unless these fees can be somehow waived or deferred, all is lost", he finishes off looking pleadingly at the three guild workers.
The first man, Baragsen, replies after a moment of chin scratching. “Ok, brother, I can help with that. Not everyone is looking for a vessel your size, or headed north, or leaving today. But I’ll watch incoming requests and, if anyone needs you, I’ll invoke special privileges to bump you up.”
“As for coin… can one of you show him to the Elven Embassy? I bet they’ll be happy to help out a countryman.”
“Sure thing, Rags,” answers the second man. All three make to escort Snow from the room and to the guildhall entrance.
DM for Deathworld: Lost Mine of Phandelver // Story Guide for COYOTE and CROW: Cahokia Forever // Dev Hornd in Curious Critters // Co-creator: Princes of the Apocalypse - A DnD Story
Snow closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath and exhales slowly before locking his gaze on Baragsen. "Thank you my friend...Rags, is it?", he says offering his hand to shake. "In truth I had hoped to avoid the embarrassment of going to the Elven Embassy and admitting my situation, but you are right, this is not the time for pride".
He follows their lead and heads to the guildlhall entrance, happy that his visit has been partially successful. It had been a long shot that these folk would be able to waive his fees, but with a bit of luck he would at least have the opportunity to move his sloop north today. And Idiwala knows he was due a bit of luck.
As they stand at the entrance he looks at the three of them, "You have given me hope, and renewed my faith in people. I will need to come back this way on my return journey, and will surely pay you a visit. In the meantime, stay safe and keep your heads down. There is an air of trouble to come about the city right now", he says as he waits for directions, or one of them to guide him to the embassy.
The two guildsmen, who introduce themselves as Ziri and Usus, walk you out the door, confer for a moment, and then the younger one, Usus, a journeyman, continues to lead you onward, farther north into the city. Just before the guildhall is a dry dock and one bustling river pier extending to the canal. A bosun is yelling herself bright red in the face, the stevedores responding as if whipped into action, rushing to finish loading. The sun has begun its slow trek down the western skies. A troop of armored garrison men in imperial livery march past.
Usus, the journeyman, walks Snow northwards as far as the gate into El Harrouch, but stops short.
“Um, mister, the embassies are in El Harrouch, but they’ve locked the gate. I didn’t even know it closed, it’s always been open.” The pair face a barred portcullis, guarded on either side and above by Dwear’l’Harrouch, élite Shian fighters. Usus scratches his head for a minute, then looks left, where a small barge floats out of El Harrouch downriver on the canal, pulled by a pair of oxen. “At least, they’re still letting riverboats through.”
“I don’t know mister. I’m only a journeyman so I should bite my tongue, but… Why don’t you add the tow and gate fees to whatever you’re charging for passage north? That’s what the canal barges do.”
DM for Deathworld: Lost Mine of Phandelver // Story Guide for COYOTE and CROW: Cahokia Forever // Dev Hornd in Curious Critters // Co-creator: Princes of the Apocalypse - A DnD Story
Snow looks at the portcullis and guards, and then to Usus. "Do you get the feeling they don't want to let anyone in?", he says with a chuckle.
"Right you are Usus, that sounds like a plan. I was a little worried about adding those fees and the moorage fees I have already accumulated, but in truth if anyone wants passage right now they are going to be as desperate as I am and likely willing to pay", he says more seriously.
He looks back the way they had come, at the throng of people from all walks of life, then holding one hand above his eyes to shield them, up at the sun. "I need to be back at my sloop, and quick. I will say my goodbye here, and make haste. Thanks Usus", he says performing a quick salute from his temple with two fingers.
And with that he heads off at a jog back through the crowd, heading for the Animu Borongo, once more keeping one hand on his coin pouch. His intention being to find those rivermen on the neighbouring barge to help with the mast.
Snow’s return trek through the city, due to the rush of the Kalahati-Ur, broken by garrison patrols going door-to-door — to arrest individuals who are plainly not dwarves — is beset by a lively assortment of obstacles. As he pulls up short so as not to be smashed over a barrier by an elephant, another thief tries to grab the bard’s pouch, but Snow swats their hand away deftly.
In thirty minutes he’s back at his slip, but confronting another problem. The Animu Borongo is nowhere to be seen.
The rivermen he met earlier are on the dock, loading barrels from a wagon onto their barge. One of the men he spoke to this morning detaches from the others and lopes up the landing to meet Snow.
“We tried to stop them, but they said they were owed it — your boat — as a gambling debt. They said they were Amazighs!,” this last , whispered. “You just missed ‘em, boss. There!,” and as he shouts, Snow sees the sloop drifting slowly downstream around a bend in the river 100 yards away, two men aboard, prepping the sail.
At that moment, the dock manager, a burly older chimp woman with back issues, her head at chest level, arms thick and muscular, one hand gripping her hip, the other clenched in a fist waving over her head, approaches, with an amboule guard at her heel. “There he is!,” comes her voice in a sharp gargle, “His boat took off without paying the slip fee!! Get him!” The guard, a Shian man, readies a net and a stanchion casually, blocking your way toward the city. The chimp woman is closing with you. (OOC: The way south, i.e., toward the Animu Borongo, is clear.)
DM for Deathworld: Lost Mine of Phandelver // Story Guide for COYOTE and CROW: Cahokia Forever // Dev Hornd in Curious Critters // Co-creator: Princes of the Apocalypse - A DnD Story
Snow throws his hands up in frustration at seeing his sloop being sailed away. He looks to the riverman and says, “Damn Idder and Sufyan, even in death they are still causing me issues”.
Seeing the dock manager approach with the guard, he slips one hand behind his back and grasps his violin, retrieving it. No time to play properly he simply holds it like a lute and plucks on one string, concentrating and feeding off the vibrations that emanate from inside. As he speaks, the sound carries those vibrations inaudibly to the ears of the guard, attempting to magically influence him.
“Quick, they are stealing my sloop, help me stop them and retrieve it”, he says to the guard whilst pointing at the sloop. Before turning and running down river towards it himself.
Casts Suggestion (DC 18 Wis Save) on the guard.
The guard, who did not show the greatest strength of character when he responded to the dock manager’s insistent wailing only a few minutes ago, is putty in Snow’s hands.
“They’re stealing your sloop! Follow me!,” and he tears off down the landing as the dock manager wails in anger. Behind you.
The guard leaps off the far end of the landing, and, splashing in the shallows, and then, up to a riverside path, stumbling over tree roots, huffs and puffs as he gives chase. In 10 minutes, you approach a narrow bridge over the river, which, at a sprint, you can cross half-way to pass over the Animu Borongo as its tacks downriver.
(Let’s see how Snow is doing. If he is also sprinting, please roll a CON save vs DC 15 to avoid one level of temporary exhaustion. Also please roll a DEX save vs DC 10 to avoid tripping on tree roots along the path and potentially slipping off the path into the water. You can elaborate what happens based on your rolls, but you’re basically keeping up with the guard regardless. Please post any actions you take as you approach or reach the bridge.)
DM for Deathworld: Lost Mine of Phandelver // Story Guide for COYOTE and CROW: Cahokia Forever // Dev Hornd in Curious Critters // Co-creator: Princes of the Apocalypse - A DnD Story
Snow takes off after the guard, desperate to catch up to the sloop before it is too late...
Con Save: 9
Dex Save: 19
Trusting the guards local knowledge he follows closely after, deftly leaping from the landing and running through the shallows, his violin still in hand. He rushes up the riverside path, breathing heavily, unused to this kind of physical exertion. Spotting the guard stumble over the tree roots he is able to avoid them with far greater grace.
He sees the bridge in the distance but has to stop, bending over with one hand on his knee. A half dozen deep breaths later and he looks up, narrows his eyes and takes off again chasing the now labouring form of the guard. A look to the river shows it will be close, but one last push and he can make the bridge before the Animu Borongo floats underneath.
As his feet finally make purchase with the floor of the bridge his breath comes heavily, his vision starts to blur and the sound of his blood pumping fills his ears. But he can't relax just now and he moves on, now at a jog. He comes to a stop at the middle of the bridge, holding on to the guard as he fights for breath and stares down at the Animu Borongo coming towards them. He concentrates his mind on the technique taught him in the Kingdoms many months before, and somehow finds the focus to summon the invisible force of his Mage Hand directly in the path of the sloop.
With his Mage Hand below him ready and waiting for the sloop to pass, he purses his lips and starts to ever so quietly whistle a haunting melody, summoning once more the magical energy and strengthening it with the bond of the violin. As the sloop makes it's way into range, he projects the sound to the person at the tiller causing him to hear Dissonant Whispers.
(DC - 18 Wis Save, 9 psychic damage on a failed save and use reaction to run/swim away, half damage on a success and doesn't run/swim away)
Snow’s dissonant whispers has the desired effect. The man labeled “1” (in the map linked below) lets go of the tiller, and holds both hands over his ears, trying to squeeze out the crippling sound.
Putting two and two together, “2” sneers at Snow and yells up, “You’d better watch yourself, outlander! This boat was won fair and square. You don’t want to tangle with the Amazigh’s!”
The guard’s jaw drops open at this pronouncement, and his face, pale, turns to Snow, silently mouthing, “Amazighs!” He yells down, “That outlander is the owner of the vessel. Drop yer anchor and let me board. We don’ have to fight, let’s talk this over!”
The first man dives overboard at this moment, swimming upriver directly away from Snow as a result of his spell..
“Too late for that,” the second man yells up. He picks up a loaded crossbow and fires it at Snow from the hip, hitting for 9HP damage.
Snow’s mage hand pushes against the prow but does little to stop the forward progress of the sloop downriver, and its forward motion continues at 40’ per round.
You are now situated like so.
We’ll call the above Round 1.
Please Post Round 2 actions. You have the initiative.
DM for Deathworld: Lost Mine of Phandelver // Story Guide for COYOTE and CROW: Cahokia Forever // Dev Hornd in Curious Critters // Co-creator: Princes of the Apocalypse - A DnD Story