I've been throwing together more prep for the region, placing forests, railroad lines, building up random encounter tables. It's a far cry from the carefully plotted locations I've been previously building. Which is fine. it's good to keep growing, trying out new strategies, and it's a lot of fun!
In other news, the party continues their path of destruction. If you're interested in how they got to this point, check out the last report here. The next post in the series is here.
***
The Cast
John Dole of Bisque, Firlish Stew Captain, petty criminal and crack shot. Getting tired of having to kill all of these rural authority figures.
William Ottleson of Fir Reach, Firlish Ironmonger. His mettle has been tested and found to be mostly found to be made from the courage of flesh. He's looking into adding the strength of Iron into the mix.
Padre Faustino Calderon Capard del Monte Rubito, Algóran Venturesome priest. Drunken sot. Running dangerously low on Laudanum. Good drinking buddy, he's generous, at least. You have to wonder about the exact wording of his oath of mendicancy, though.
Youree, Revenant Delver. Short for "You're Re-Animated," Youree holds distinction for getting into the most "we're going to have to kill this guy" situations in the short time she's been a part of the crew.
Vinkle, Lothrmensch Moonshiner. Likes to lag behind the groups and pick up all the loot they've left behind.
***
We left off as the crew was fleeing the burning manor. People are pointing and shouting in the fields, and many are running to the creek to get water. It's a mess. I give the crew 2-in-6 odds that someone will notice them heading back in the wrong way, though now I'm kinda thinking this would have been a better time for a Subtlety Check. But, it's fine. The situation was too chaotic for anyone to notice the crew slinking past the burning manor and heading back to the hamlet.
They arrive, and immediately head over to Douglas Igorson, the blacksmith, where they tell him that the lord Palomer was assassinated by a ragwretch.
"In the middle of the day?"
"Ee 'ad a whatchamacall it, Umbrella. A parasol," Ottleson is on the defensive. "And ee was shoutin' all sorts of political slogans about Socialism..."
"I find that rather unbelievable."
"Well, tha's just what we 'eard," Ottleson tries to save a little face
"What are you talking about, Bill, I saw him get shot right in front of me--" John Dole attempts to put his hand over Youree's mouth, but it's too late. The Smith knows.
"You lot better get your story straight when the Reeve and Bailiff get back from putting out the fire," the Smith smirks, or sneers, it's impossible to tell which, really. "And you better figure out a reason for me to stay quiet."
He quenches the prosthetic he's been working on and hands it to Youree, who pays him. It's an ugly lump of iron that barely resembles a fist, with a cruel spike on the wrist end.
Ottleson shudders when he sees the piece.
"You are not putting that on me."
Youree disagrees.
While the two of them tussle outside, the Padre and Vinkle decide that this is the perfect place to unload the set of silverware the two stole looted found at the Lamrey's Homestead. The two attempt to haggle, but ol' Doug is firm:
"Five pounds, a bottle of beer, an' I don' turn you in to the Bailiff."
It's a fair price. The padre asks for directions to the nearest pub, tosses the smith a pound for his service, and he sets out walking back in the direction the party came from.
As the party sets out for the nearby hamlet, I roll to see how the locals are doing containing the fire. The fire rolls low for spreading, but the locals roll low for containment, so I rule that the manor is destroyed, but the fire is controlled. Folks will begin heading home in about an hour.
***
Arriving at the hamlet, the party finds that it is nearly deserted, save for a woman who has stayed to ensure that no riff-raff will use the opportunity to rob the place blind. She's done a pretty good job so far, but a short conversation with the cutters is enough to convince her that maybe she should hide until they've gone. As a group, they are heavily armed, dirty from the road, and one of them is splattered with blood.
They've been getting hungry for a while, and once they find the pub, they let themselves in. Most of it is open-air, with a thatch roof overhead and a cellar in a nearby house serving as the larder. The Padre counts his coins, and feeling unworthy of having so much, does a little back of napkin math and determines that he has enough to buy a barrel of their cheapest beer. There's no one to tell him no, so he drops his coinage on a table and rolls the barrel into the middle of the street, tapping it and proceeding to drink enough for 3 or 4 poison stress, and, having had enough, the padre passes out lying on top of the barrel.
The rest of the party pokes around the town as they wait for the villagers to come back, feeding their dog a few sausages to pass the time.
I roll, and the bailiff is among the first wave to return. He knows the Lord Palomer, and he's upset by his disappearance, and he decides to take it out on the vagrants who he sees are haunting the town (rolled very low on reaction). He pokes the Padre with his cudgel.
"Alright rummy, where'd you get this keg."
The Padre explains that he bought it from the pub, that he has an oath of mendicancy and he--
"Alright bucko, I've spent the last hour fighting a fire with the owner of this fine establishment, and I know that he did NOT sell this barrel to you. You're drunk, you're disorderly, you're gonna have to pay a fine..."
Youree interrupts, "Listen, sir, this man is a foreigner, and he doesn't know our laws. We're planning on leaving anyways, what if I pay his fine for him?"
The Bailiff sighs, "Do you have the money?"
"Yes, totally," Youree lies, "But what if we played a game, first? Are you a gambling man, Mr. Bailiff?"
"I have been known to dabble in such things."
"What if we played a game over it, double or nothing?"
The Bailiff snorts. "You're on."
The two sit at one of the tables at the pub and draw their cards. Youree rolls a 3. The Bailiff a 9. Her bluff is called. Youree digs in her pockets for her £1 coin, and flips it high into the air, grabbing the pot and sprinting for the exit. She dives behind a low fence and starts to commando crawl as the Bailiff curses and jumps out of his seat. He walks over to Ottleson and asks for his gun. Ottleson begins to comply before he realizes that the gun in his sash used to belong to Lord Palomer.
"Oh, I'm err-- I'm out o'ammo, you see? Ask that guy." He points at John Dole, as Youree continues her muddy crawl towards freedom.
The Bailiff demands John Dole hand over his leverette. John Dole refuses. The Bailiff, tired of dealing with this unruly band of disrespectful cutters, makes a grab for his cudgel, and John Dole, who's been holding his actions, shoots the Bailiff straight in the gut, point blank. 8 damage. The bailiff stumbles back, clutching at his gut, but it's a bad shot, and he collapses on the ground, dead.
Everyone begins to panic, leaving the barrel of beer behind as they make a dead sprint to pick up their charge, marching North to leave Palomer's Valley behind. It's rough. They march through sunset, and keep walking for several hours, several members gaining Weary Stress before they finally feel safe enough to take a break. They listen carefully for the sound of pursuit, the barking of dogs, the sounds of anyone following, but they hear nothing.
Then they begin to argue. John Dole blames Ottleson for making the rumor too unbelievable, and Youree for blowing their cover and forcing him to shoot an aristocrat and a bailiff on the same day. Youree blames Ottleson for the smith and John Dole for the murders, saying that she had it handled before he killed the both of them.
Mr. Collier, however, does not have the patience for this. The crew has lost valuable time, and he writes a cheque to Ottleson for £20, telling him that they can cash it as soon as Péridot Firm has a branch open in Fenn Blaine, pointing out that the faster the cutters get there, the faster he can work on getting the branch opened. So everyone should shut it and get a fire and some food going!
The meal today is a bread of flour, sugar, butter, salt and wild yeast, cooked over the leftover stew from yesterday, with lard and brandy added to keep the stew going. It is tasteless, and as the cutters assign their watches, it begins to rain.
It is 10 o'clock on the 31st of Sectember, and the crew is weary, chilly, hungry and wet.
***
What a miserable way to end the session, right? Benton released a new article while I was working on this post, which I am happy to include, especially because it adds a little to my next session. The next post should be up in about a week.
Makes me big and wide
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