5 June 2024

And here it is! This is the final entry to the first session of my D&D campaign, wrapping this chapter up.

The shadow monk cursed, and turned to leave, but her companion, a death-touched aasimar cleric, clamped a hand on her shoulder. “We have more urgent matters to attend to. Remember?”

The monk looked like she was about to argue, then changed her mind. “Stupid bleeping princess.”

It took Shaxes a moment to put together what she meant. “Are you referring to the ambassador from Táixià?”

The cleric woman nodded, while the monk let out another curse. The head priest watched a moment longer, one eyebrow raised in apparent amusement, before he addressed Shaxes. “Could I perhaps trouble you to look into this further? If there truly is a wayward child of the night involved, it would be best for everyone to resolve this before it escalates, especially given the… potential interference of outside forces.”

Shaxes nodded once. “What can you tell me about the situation?”

“Not much, I’m afraid. The assailant was a priest named Marcus Kensworthy, Sr. He is from a noble family with a long line of history with the church of the Eternal Rose, with all the implications related to that. He was a key figure in the concerning movements I spoke of earlier. Many priests and priestesses around him have recently begun acting strangely. His victim was one Eliza Peckham, who was one of the primary figures within the temple promoting peace between the Rose’s church and our own.”

“I see.” The Rose temple seemed like the next best place to begin searching for more answers.

As he turned to leave, though, he noticed the strange halfling pocketing… Was that the head priest’s seal? He caught the priest’s eye, but the priest shook his head. Shaxes sighed. He would let it go, then. Although… Might as well make the man work for it. He strode up to the halfling. “You. Come with me.”

The halfling shared a look with the half-elf woman and shrugged. Then, without much fuss, the two followed Shaxes to the temple of the Eternal Rose.

3 June 2024 part 2

Next bit of the Flames of Piege campaign.

When Shaxes entered the shrine of the Shadowed Princess, he found the head priest speaking with the mysterious duo from the ship, including the vampire shadow monk. It seems it had been wise to keep her existence from the strange Sunkeeper delegation.

The head priest was a thin, man with large, black robes, and skin so pale he looked like he might be dead. Which… was actually a possibility. He looked over at Shaxes as the tiefling entered, then looked behind him and asked, “New adherents?”

Shaxes looked behind him only to discover the half-elf noblewoman from the ship arguing with a dark-skinned, almost drow-like halfling in Elvish. They seemed almost as surprised to be there as Shaxes, but the half-elf shook her head and said, “No, we’re just touring around the city.”

The head priest nodded, then turned to Shaxes. The tiefling looked at the other two and asked, “I am not interrupting, am I? Nothing I wish to speak with you about is particularly urgent.”

“We ar nearly finished. How can I assist you?”

The corners of Shaxes’ mouth quirked upward by the slightest amount. “Actually, that was my question for you, Father. I’ve been sent from Trixhaven; have you had any issues? Any concerns with your local congregation?”

The priest mused for a moment or two. “No, not so far as I am aware, at least with our congregation.”

Shaxes raised an eyebrow, and the priest offered a wry smile. “Recently, a rather troublesome group of nobles among the Eternal Rose’s priests started moving in concerning ways, but it looks like that particular problem is resolving itself.”

“I wonder if that is related to the mess the Sunkeepers were telling us about,” Shaxes mused.

The monk cut in. “Eh? Sunkeepers?”

“Yes. A squadron of them confronted us at the docks, wanted to ask a few questions. It seems there was an attack at the temple of the Rose, and they suspect vampires involved. They were concerned about rumors are had a vampire aboard our ship.” At that last statement, he gave the monk a very pointed look. “Fortunately, none of us knew anything about that.”

31 May 2024

I may have to tweak this. I haven’t decided if the foreshadowing here is accurate enough to be appropriate or not.

…decided to follow her. Perhaps a minute later, Sasha stopped, spun around, and studied him for an uncomfortably long time. Finally, she said, “If you’re ever going to come along, you might as well walk next to me, instead.”

George smiled wryly and came up beside her, and the two continued through town. Along the way, Sasha asked, “You learn anything useful at the bar?”

“The medicine they have there tastes just as terrible as the stuff I make myself.”

Sasha gave him a side-eye, but then she shrugged. “It’s all basically poison anyway.”

George chuckled, and to thank her, he added, “Heard about the mess at the temple. Some lady named Eliza Peckham? Officials say there's no way it could have been vampires, which means… it was probably vampires.”

For a moment or two, Sasha pondered that. “I want to sneak in, see the body up close. Will you help?”

With one eyebrow raised, George answered by taking a particularly heavy step, which caused his armor to clank and rattle all over. “But… If you’ve got something intriguing enough planned, well… I wouldn’t mind being the distraction.”

27 May 2024

I was evenly split between which of the two perspectives I should take for this scene (including the bit right after; still need to write that). Sasha could have been fun, but I’m still parsing how both the player and the character think, as I don’t know them as well as the other players.

George was dead tired, and didn’t want to bother much with people, especially when his stomach still felt like it would rebel at any moment. So as soon as the Sunkeeper commander finished his spiel, George booked it to the nearest tavern.

He ordered his usual remedy after a long sea voyage; one sip was enough to confirm it tasted as terrible as it did at any other tavern. Once he finally settled in, he started listening to what other folks were saying. Never hurt to get a lay of the land. A few conversations in particular caught his ear.

“Has anyone seen Charlotte lately? Don’t think she’s been snagged by whatever’s roving the slums these days, did she?”

“You hear what happened at the Rose Temple? Apparently, one of their priests went nuts and murdered a priestess. They say vampires got to him or summat.”

“Anyone else see that ship as just came in? They say it took on a bloody kraken. Codswallop, I say. Wouldn’t be a ship left to come in if one o’ those nasties attacked.”

The last worried George a bit; if they realized he’d been on he ship, they’d pester him about it, and he’d really rather be left alone. He noticed the genasi girl, Sasha, doing her rounds, asking about some fellow named “Stuart”. General consensus seemed to be that he was one of the ones who’d been “disappeared”.

Eventually, Sasha decided she’d learned what she could here, and asked the bartender if she could play a bit of music. George thought he recognized the melody; it was a beautiful rendition of an old Kadrashan tune. Didn’t quite fit in with a place like this, though, and… Well, it brought up memories George would rather leave buried for the time being.

The rest of the crowd didn’t seem to care much for it, either, based on all the booing Sasha received. She muttered something under her breath–George figured some Kadrashan curse words–then stepped down, glowering out over the crowds.

That’s when someone recognized George. “Hey, wasn’t you one of the ones that was on that ship? The wrecked one?”

George leveled a glare at the man, but the man ignored him. “Yeah, you was! Hey, tell me. What the bloody hell happened?”

The exclamation drew a large crowd, and it took far too long for him to work his way free and get outside. That’s when he noticed Sasha stalking off toward the temple, and decided to follow her.

25 May 2024 part 2

I wrote my poem for the week! It’s based on the leader of one of the major antagonistic factions in my campaign. If it runs long enough for him to appear, I would be ecstatic. He is a hodge podge of several different characters that at first, didn’t seem connected, but the more I explored the themes around this character, the more tied together they all seem. Top of the list is Denethor from Lord of the Rings, and Sir Gideon Ofnir the All-Hearing from Elden Ring. (Yes, I’m not using his “official” title, but I find this one more apt, anyway.) Then Taravangian from The Stormlight Chronicles got mixed in a bit, though I doubt my character is anywhere near that composed or capable. Through in a dash of general Bloodborne into the mix, and you get Sir Deneth Rinof the All-Hearing, head of the Oreilles de la Tour (Ears of the Tower), with connections to Great Old Ones and whatnot. His faction focuses a lot on illusions and puppets, at least at first, with more and more eldritch entities showing up as the campaign progresses.

Sir Deneth Rinof

“Know thy place.”

“Hold thy tongue.”

“Speak not above thy station.”

What fool, this king!

Wherefore should I bow to him?

“Heretic.”

Empty words.

What glory would gods grant man?

My soul seeks more

To ascend beyond mere divine.

Deeper truths

Darker secrets

Words to bend them to my will

Both kings and priests

And surely I shall do it

Found at last!

Beyond ken

I draw near that distant star

Madness follows

Eyes inside my screaming mind

All are doomed

I am bound

None can oppose such terror

Bow before it

I will offer it the world

21 May 2024

Yeah, I missed Monday. I plan to catch up soon enough; I still need to write my poem for the week, after all.

This was a tricky scene to write in some ways; I wanted to smooth things out, include foreshadowing bits, and make the conversation fit the reality of the situation better now that i’ve prepped more and have a deeper understanding of what that is. I think it turned out well, though, and I really got in the groove here.

…towards the ship. They halted, and one of them stepped forward. “I am Commander Slepoy of the [unit name/title]. I apologize for the inconvenience, but would you mind accompanying me for a few minutes? I have a few questions for all of you.”

From behind Maranys, the sailor girl muttered a phrase–one Maranys recognized as the spell “prestidigitation”–and the next moment an absolutely fold stench started wafting from the commander, like sewage that had been sitting in the sun for hours. A number of Sunkeepers turned and glared at the girl, but to the commander’s credit, he (mostly) kept his composure.

The tiefling–Shaxes?--stepped forward. “If you mean to inquire about the status of the ship, we were attacked by a kraken. The good captain and a number of other, powerful passengers dealt with it, while we helped fend off its sahuagin followers. Is there anything else you needed?”

Maranys noticed one fellow, a young man with warm brown hair, first eyed Shaxes’ horns, then his holy symbol, and sneered. The tiefling himself didn’t respond; if anything, he seemed more resigned to it than anything.

The commanger replied, “That is helpful, thank you, but that is not why I am here. I don’t intend to take much of your time; would you mind following me?”

With narrowed eyes, Maranys studied the commander. What did he want, then? She noticed that his eyes flicked over everyone who left the ship. Was he looking for someone? A passenger, perhaps? Since when did the Sunkeepers have this kind of authority in Oileanda, anyway?

She decided it would likely be more trouble than it was worth to get away, so she accompanied the commander into a nearby warehouse. Both Shaxes and George, an axe-wielding mercenary who’d drawn the attention of a sahuagin attacking her during their previous fight, joined them, though george looked a little green in the face. Was he still feeling seasick? Or maybe he just ate something that disagreed with him. Maranys also thought she caught sight of the water genasi from the ship slipping in with them.

It wasn’t until they were inside that she realized Myst hadn’t joined her. She looked out the window and found him out there, flashing that same infuriating smirk, next to the sailor girl who’d stunk up the commander’s collar. Fortunately, the girl had decided to undo her spell before slipping away.

Commander Slepoy cleared his throat. Maranys turned his attention back to him, and he asked, “I apologize if this seems strange, but we heard a troubling report, given the circumstances. Do you know if, among the passengers aboard your vessel, any of them may have been a vampire?”

Maranys immediately thought of the heavily cloaked shadow monk that helped them fend off the kraken. Except, well… She didn’t know for sure, and this was definitely more trouble than it was worth. So it was with no guilt that she beamed at the commander. “Nope. Haven’t seen anything.”

Shaxes shook his head, and poor George just looked more nauseous than ever. The tiefling asked, “If I may, why are you asking?”

The commander grimaced. “There’s… been an incident at the Temple of the Rose. We believe it is related to vampires in some way; if we are correct, evidence indicates the mastermind is not local. We figured they may be coming in person to move the work forward or some such, and wanted to prevent the issue from escalating.”

Shaxes raised an eyebrow, but he only said, “I am not aware of any vampires aboard the ship.”

The commander sighed and nodded, then excused them. Maranys turned to leave, but nearly ran into the unpleasant Sunkeeper from before. He’d approached for the sole purpose of spitting at Shaxes’ feet. For his part, though, the tiefling merely sighed.

Once outside, Maranys made a beeline for Myst. “Where have you been? Why didn’t you write me to let me know where you were, or that you were okay, or–”

In Elvish, still smirking, Myst cut her off. “I take it you missed me then?”

Maranys wasn’t sure if her cheeks were flushed with embarrassment or fury, and she started getting after Myst, absentmindedly following Shaxes deeper into the city.

18 May 2024

This has been a lot of fun to write. The Maranys/Myst dynamic doesn’t quite feel set in stone yet, so that could potentially shift, but for now, this is my best estimate from what their players have told me.

Straxes the Collector was used to people staring at him. It was rare enough to see tieflings at all this far north, much less as tall as he. Even before the horns, he was nearly seven feet. And the symbol of the Shadowed Princess displayed prominently over his armor certainly didn’t help matters. So he paid little heed at first to the small sailor girl who’d watched him most of the trip from Tangier, even after he’d learned she was angel-blooded in the earlier scuffle.

What he had not expected was for her to approach him shortly before their arrival in Setton. She asked, in her thick Solstranan accent, “Haven’t we met before? You look familiar.”

Shaxes blinked. He didn’t recognize the girl, but that wasn’t so unusual. He had met many people in the course of his… duties. It seemed strange she couldn’t place someone as distinctive as he was, though.

When he didn’t reply, the girl–Ayona?--nodded to herself. “Yes. You were part of that thing in Trixhaven, weren’t you? The one that would never smile.” She looked him over once more. “Yeah. You need a vacation or something. Learn to have a little fun, maybe.”

SHaxes merely raised an eyebrow. It wasn’t a moment later before the ship’s captain bellowed from the helm, “You should take your own advice, lass!”

“I have fun! I have plenty of fun!”

“Like what, lassie?”

For several seconds, Shaxes watched in amusement as Ayona floundered. “I… um… I’ve killed things?”

That’s when it clicked. “Ah, yes. Trixhaven. I remember. You were the one with all the feathers.” There weren’t many of the angel-blooded who opted to follow the Shadowed Princess, after all.

The sailor girl didn’t reply, instead trying valiantly and vainly to argue with the captain. Shaxes just shook his head and returned to his bunk. As long as it didn’t effect his mission here or his Lady’s church, it wasn’t important.

The next day, as the Fortune’s Breath pulled into port, Lady Maranys Evreux was still agonizing over what she’d overheard the day before. A few months!? What was she supposed to do? She didn’t think she’d have the funds to charter a different ship, and since she was already a year or two behind Myst, Maranys wondered if she’d ever see him again.

So perhaps it can be forgiven that she wasn’t entirely cognizant of her surroundings while she exited the ship. At least, not until she noticed her purse was missing.

Before she even had time to panic, however, a short figure, barely four foot tall, with skin the color of dark chocolate and pale gray hair, offered it back to her. “Might this be yours, milady?”

Maranys gaped at him, her brain and emotions struggling to catch up with what her eyes were telling her. Then he flashed her that same smirk he always wore, and Maranys felt her cheeks flush. “Myst!? What… how… Where have–”

Before she could interrogate Myst further, a large squad of Sunkeepers arrived at the docks and began making their way towards the ship.

17 May 2024

I think the two most fascinating part of writing my campaign as a narrative, at least so far, are figuring out how to introduce and balance everyone, and trying to figure out how much to include. It’s a game, after all; some things are easier to hand wave that need to be explained in-story, and other things need to be expedited. This is the first intro; Ayona is an aasimar from Solstrana who’s been wandering for a bit now.

Aboard the Fortune’s Breath, Ayona Svyátoy approached Captain Streisa, a squat, burly woman with bushy red hair, who had a way of towering over everyone around her despite her 5’2” frame. “We’re close, Captain. Should only be a day or so before we reach Setton.”

The corner of the captain’s lip quirked upward. “Good timing, lass. I’ve been meaning to have a chat with you.”

Ayona tilted her head. “It’s… not that large a ship, Captain. I’m not difficult to find.”

The captain guffawed. “But in all seriousness. Lass. It’s going to be a few months before the ship’s seaworthy again. What are your plans?”

Both ignored the wail one of their passengers–some half-elf noblewoman–let out when Streisa mentioned “a few months”. “I don’t know. Find another ship, perhaps?”

For a long moment, Streisa just stared at her. “You need a break, lass. A chance to live life. Maybe make some friends. I don’t know what you’re running from, or what you’re planning, but it’s not exactly the sort of thing you can do alone, now, is it?”

“Sure I can.” It would be bloody difficult, but Ayona could do it. She had to.

That simply elicited another guffaw from the captain and she clapped Ayona on the back, nearly bowling Ayona over. “Well, think on it, lass. Perhaps travel a bit with that group you helped with the sahuagin, eh?”

Rather than reply, Ayona rolled her shoulders. She’d think about it. Maybe.

13 May 2024

We had the first real session of the campaign this past Sunday, and as much as possible, I want to record it. What follows is my “hook”; a trick from the Candela Obscura rulebook and videos, where before you get into the meat of the story, you zoom out and onto the antagonist or the problem that is the focus for the arc or session. I refined it since the session; mostly, I remembered a bunch of other things I wanted to share, and refined who the villains are this time and how they’re able to do what they do.

Before the broken ship bearing our heroes limps into Setton’s harbor, let me roll back the clock a couple of days, and focus on a certain manor house within the city. As soon as we step inside, we can hear the sounds of revelry, laughter and music, emanating from the banquet hall.

There, we find a smiling musician, all adorned in green and red, playing a set of pipes, watching the proceedings with great interest. An older couple, the lord and lady of the house, dance merrily in the center of the floor to the music, only paying the slightest heed to their multitude of guests when their dance requires they step around or over one of them laying on the floor.

Many of these guests–those lively enough to do so–cheer for the couple as they stuff their faces with the bounteous feast presented before them. And what a feast it is! If we only looked at the quantity heaped on the hundred-foot banquet table, it would be fair to guess the family expected to receive royalty at any moment now. But on closer inspection, this is actually a feast most foul; many of the dishes are covered in flies, and appear to have sat on the table for days.

Yet the guests do not care. They will just as gladly stuff their gobs with the maggot-covered pork roast as the chicken and rice casserole the maid–herself in a trance–places fresh out of the oven onto the table.

Off to the side, both ignoring and ignored by all the ruckus, a young nobleman sits in an ornate chair, a young lady on his lap, all pretense for propriety banished. The young man bares a striking resemblance to the lord of the house, even down to his striking red hair. The young lady pulls a knife from the folds of her dress and draws it across her palm; the young man kisses it, gently lapping at her blood. 

Then, from his own pocket, he pulls out a vial of a bright red liquid, with a single, slender blood lily petal within. He uncorks it and leans in to whisper directly in the young lady’s ear, “Do you trust me?”

She nods, and the vial barely touches her lips before she downs it all, and slowly grows limp in his arms.

Meanwhile, the lord and lady of the house bring their dance to a close. They bow, first to the audience and then to the musician. The lord claps twice and announces, “Well, my friends, it is time for us to be off! But you are free to accompany us. Won’t you join us for an even grander Revel?”

He and his wife don’t wait for a response before they turn to leave. Instead, the musician trills a curious series of notes, and all the guests, even a number of those lying unresponsive on the floor, stop what they’re doing and stand up. Each of them shuffle after the lord and lady of the house, eyes glazed and sappy smiles on their faces.

The musician rises to follow, but the young man called after him, “Shall I begin gathering the next batch, dear friend?”

With a flourish, the musician bowed to him. “If you wouldn’t mind, ‘twould be most appreciated, my good fellow.” Then he skipped after the group who’d just left, a jaunty tune playing from his pipes.