Campaign Log -- Day Eighteen

The 24th day of the month of Obad-Hai
The 110th year of the second Ravensblood dynasty

Upon returning to Noroiras, Quimarel catches Tamarie up on the events of the fairie-finding mission, making sure to mention how “shifty” Zubynna Chief Muck-Laugh had been. She further speculates, based on the mention of “black robes” in the fairies’ report, that this is all to keep an eye on the Kech. She then explains her plan to get additional  reports by promising to find Silvermoss and keep him safe.

Tamarie expresses some confusion about this, since they already have Silvermoss drunk in a cage in the chapel, at which point Quimarel gleefully explains that “nobody knows we’ve got him; we’re playing both sides.”

Out-of-character, it is explained that Hiddlebatch’s player is in China for… reasons. Something family-related. Quimarel’s player notes that H’s player is supposed to be watching her younger relatives over there, and that this is a better idea than it sounds because “she has the same energy level as your average toddler”.
Since it’s been a while between sessions, we also recap the incident in the Marketplace of Rats when Quimarel “won the hearts and minds of the people” and also made a citizen’s arrest of one of the prisoners from the underground complex, since it turned out they were mostly Capran criminals being shipped north for their sentence.

Quimarel: My new thing is apparently doing something and then getting credit for fixing it.

⁂

Due to the recent crime wave, Lord Noroiras (that would be the hereditary title of the governor of this particular Capran territory) has declared a curfew. Anyone who is out after sundown is liable to be fined and/or arrested, depending on their relative shadiness.

Quimarel is deeply concerned about this, seeing as it is liable to cut into her profits at the Squirting Squid. She briefly kicks around the idea of digging hidden tunnels under the town, but decides that the best way to handle this is to get the curfew lifted entirely. She ruminates on how to do this [Knowledge(local): 22] and decides that she needs to go to Lord Noroiras -- respectfully, in a formal meeting -- and convince him either that the crime wave has ended and the curfew is no longer needed, or that the curfew is making the situation worse.

Noting that it’s hard to prove a negative, and that it would be hard to do any of this without breaking the curfew herself and getting fined, Quimarel begins to formulate a Plan.

Makpov interjects with some ideas about getting additional funds through the stealing and smashing of non-specified “stuff”.

Quimarel assures Makpov that there will be time for smashing, and asks how big the fine is. Mssr. 20-sider tells us that is is 18 gold per person -- ridiculously steep for your average citizen, but an acceptable expense for successful business owners like Tamarie and Quimarel.

Tamarie points out that this is probably bad for the economy of the town -- businesses other than the brothel make a sizable part of their profits at night. In addition, it’s a mostly evil town (albeit in a petty kind of way) and “evil likes the dark.”

They decide to go to the other establishments in town and see if they can get some support from other business owners. First up is the Broken Stone, the town’s inn. They’ve had dealings with Drugoz the innkeeper before, so this should be fairly straightforward.

Quimarel: I’m a little concerned about this curfew that’s happening. Have you noticed a drop-off in customers?
Drugoz: A little bit, but since most of my customers are staying in rooms above the dining area anyway, I still get enough to keep the place afloat.
Quimarel: Well, for now, but for how much longer? If word gets out about this, travellers aren’t going to want to stop here if they can avoid it.
Drugoz: Well, maybe they can’t avoid it. There’s no other town for twenty miles around.
GM: [quoting something Quimarel’s player said about the town where we live] “Just fruit stands and murder sheds from here to Jackson.”

The conversation drifts off for several minutes, as someone points out that there are also Waffle Houses. Quimarel’s character suggests that’s just a specific type of murder-shed, and discussion follows as to whether “murder shed with waffles” does in fact, as I assert, “sound like a really good time”.

Tamarie: Look, do you want to just “keep afloat” or turn a profit?
Drugoz: This business has been successful for three hundred years, and will be successful for three hundred more. [The rest of the town kind of grew up around the Broken Stone, which was orignially just an inn at a strategic point along a trade route.]
Quimarel: I’m glad that you’re so confident in your inn’s ability to survive in these rough economic times.
Drugoz: It helps that I have amazing amounts of booze. And also, I am pleased that I will not have to deal with hooligans bursting in and getting drunk and stealing my stuff.
GM: Make a Diplomacy check.
Quimarel OOC: Um… 8.
Drugoz: I think perhaps you are just worried that I will outcompete you in our market share.
Quimarel: Well, to be fair, we don’t offer exactly the same services.
Drugoz: It’s the same general idea -- I have wenches, you have wenches. I have mind-altering substances, you have mind-altering substances. I have beds, you have beds.
Quimarel: I daresay your wenches lack the finesse and training mine have.
Drugoz: Well, it’s not exactly the same business model, but if people can’t go to your place, they’re likely to come to mine. Where they will hit on my wenches and drink my booze -- and since the curfew prevents them from leaving, they’ll rent a room.
Makpov OOC: I think the GM has spent a lot of time thinking about this and is planning to open up a bar. With wenches. Maybe actually called “Wenches”, just to get to the point.
Quimarel OOC: Ale and whores!

Again, the conversation drifts off-topic, wherein we wonder whether Hooters is a bar (according to Makpov’s player, it’s a “breastaurant”), Quimarel’s player notes that there’s a similar business confusingly named “Twin Peaks”, and Makpov’s player ends up reading the recruitment page of a place called the “Tilted Kilt” aloud to the group for reasons unclear. There is some brief discussion of whether the fact that kilts are a traditionally masculine piece of clothing means that the business in questions offers “equal-opportunity lechery”, of which the table soundly approves -- this is shut down when Makpov ‘s player finds a page on the website with a “featured kilt girl”, whom we all agree appears “dead in the eyes”.

Quimarel thanks Drugoz and (probably insincerely) wishes him luck.

Quimarel: And let me know if you notice a drop-off in customers.
Drugoz: I will. Unless I think you’re just trying to edge me out of the market.

Quimarel walks away grumbling that they could have had a mutually beneficial arrangement.

The players ask if there are any other businesses in town that make profits after sundown, and I point them to the Flayed Faerie Tavern and Dance Hall. The players are universally entertained by the existence of a “dance hall” in this town, despite my reminder that this is a medieval setting, and that’s the kind of entertainment available to them.

Quimarel OOC: Twerking goblins everywhere.
Tamarie OOC: Is there twerking in this setting?
GM: It’s spelled with an “o” and only done up in the mountains.
Tamarie OOC: Tworking?
GM: Toe is an expert. [Toe is the orcish barbarian from the previous campaign -- he now rules the united orcish tribes in the western mountains.]

The party goes back to trying to formulate a Plan.

Tamarie: Can I kill somebody?
Makpov: Can I lick somebody?
Tamarie: Will killing somebody solve the problem?
Quimarel: Depends on whom we kill. Now, one of the options for getting rid of this curfew is proving it ineffective. So…
Tamarie: So we could go do some crime.
Quimarel: Since the peaceful petition isn’t likely to yield any results, we could just go on a crime spree. And as long as we’re not caught --
Tamarie: Yes. I have so many arms and nothing to do with them!
GM: Well, five arms and a claw.
Tamarie OOC: Well, the claw could act as --
Makpov OOC: [impression of the aliens from Toy Story] The claw… it has chosen… 

The party goes back to planning, and wondering if they could “work their way up” to murder, and/or blame it on Drugoz the innkeeper, and/or just kill Drugoz the innkeeper.

Tamarie: I could write something. Like… blood.
GM: You want to just write “Blood”?
Tamarie: No, a note in blood.
Quimarel: Just “BLOOD”. Or maybe, “YOUR BLOOD”. [mimes examining something] “Wait, this is jam.”
Tamarie: A note in blood always gets their attention.
Quimarel: A note in jam really gets their attention. The ANTS…
Tamarie: No, it needs to be real blood.
GM: So you don’t want to kill anyone until later, but you’re okay with taking their blood now? How’s that going to work?
Quimarel OOC: We could just, like, borrow it. Pop ‘round for a cup of blood.

The PCs determine that they have at least a few days to work this through before they can expect to hear back from the Kech with a new assignment. (They insist on just calling them “the hooded figures” -- I blame “Welcome to Night Vale” for this.)

Quimarel: I say… we bother the guards. If we can make it too annoying for them to enforce this, they might either convince the lord to officially call it off, or just go, “yeah, there’s a curfew” and walk away. [pause] Or… what are our other options? Kill everyone in the garrison. Blood notes -- that’s a consideration.
Tamarie: [looking at her Int score] I’m really smart.
Quimarel: True.
Tamarie: So… 

[long pause]
[laughter]
[Discussion of whether a 15 Int is “really smart”. It is.]
[Discussion of whether a 7 Int makes Makpov mentally disabled. It doesn’t, but the table places him around the level of “stereotypically dumb frat boy” -- something familiar to the players, since nearly all of us have taught freshman Composition classes during our time in grad school]

Quimarel: So how are they enforcing this curfew? Are they just patrolling?
GM: Yeah.
Quimarel: But there’s only, what, thirteen of them?
GM: But it’s also a really small town.
Quimarel: If we were to, say, divide their attention -- cause a ruckus in two other parts of town while one of us sets fire to the garrison…  is the garrison made of stone?
GM: Roll a die. Low means stone, high means wood.
Quimarel OOC: Seven on a d20.
GM: Stone.
Quimarel: Not going to burn.
Makpov: I could run in and lick everyone.
Tamarie: Throw in a bomb and close the door…
Quimarel: Could we weaponize Makpov’s hallucinogenic saliva somehow?
GM: Um… probably? It would take someone skilled in the mixing of strange liquids, and, you know, alchemy, and that sort of thing… do you have someone like that?

[Tamarie’s player gets excited]

Quimarel: Tamarie, your time has come!
GM: It depends on what exactly you’re trying to do, how well you roll, and… any other variables that may arise.
Tamarie: So what kind of weapon do we want?
Quimarel: We could spray it over a large area. If we were to take the saliva and paint it on a surface, how long… does it have to be wet?
GM: Yes.
Quimarel: So we need to mix it with something that stays wet longer. Like, something oil-based.
Makpov: I have lots of oil.
GM: What? Why?
Makpov: Because I live in a brothel!
GM: Wait, do you mean, like, lamp oil, or, like, baby oil?
Makpov: Baby oil!
Quimarel: You know, any sort of lubricant is designed to not dry out… I bet we have a bunch lying around we could use as a base.
Tamarie: So what exactly are we doing with this stuff?
Quimarel: I’m not sure. We got distracted again.

[The party spends some time discussing delivery methods for Makpov’s saliva.]

A new age in bio-weaponry

Makpov: What if we talked to the guy who instilled the curfew, right? And got him to give the whores some kind of “be-out-late” pass? And then they come to the garrison with cold saliva drinks…
Quimarel: The first part’s a good idea. I may set up a meeting with the governor and plead my case. Point out that we have long been a supporter of the garrison…
Tamarie OOC: Was he elected?
GM: It’s a hereditary position. His grandfather was appointed to it.
Quimarel: … point out my status as a pillar of the community, and ask if there’s anything I can do to help change the circumstances so that the curfew is less necessary. 

Quimarel goes to try to get an audience, but has some difficulty.  [Diplomacy: 11] She manages to secure one, but it’s going to have to be brief.

Campaign Log -- Day Sixteen (Day Seventeen taken up by travel)

The 21st day of the month of Obad-Hai
The 110th year of the second Ravensblood dynasty

When last we left our heroes… well, two of them… well, protagonists, at any rate…  Quimarel and Hiddlebatch (and Makpov, but his player is not present, so he’s just shambling around wordlessly in case they need to kill something) were searching for fairies out of sheer curiosity: why did the Royal Intelligence Corps have a drugged-up atomie locked in a birdcage in their vault?

They had shared a campfire with a recent convert of Saurivuntyr the All-Seeing, dragon-god of oracles and madmen. He seemed relatively harmless, and they took their leave peacefully, waiting until they were at the edge of earshot before Hiddlebatch shouted “Khurgorbaeyag could kick your god’s ass” and ran away, ineffectual butterfly wings flapping furiously.

After travelling for a good chunk of the day, the pair come across some red flowers, which had featured in Silvermoss’s directions, It’s not a whole field of red flowers or anything, but there are a bunch scattered around, enough to be noticeable. Hiddlebatch starts looking around [Perception:21], and spots a fairy apparently harvesting nectar from a flower not fifty feet away. Hiddlebatch decides to try and talk to it.

Hiddlebatch: Ho, fairy folk! We would speak to you a moment, in return for which we will give you mead and flowers.
Fairy: Score! What can I do for you?
Quimarel: Have you noticed anyone trying to catch a lot of you?
Hiddlebatch: Or fairies going missing?
Fairy: I did hear that young Silvermoss went missing.
Hiddlebatch: How long ago was that?
[long pause]
Fairy: It was… colder… when he went missing….than it is now.
Hiddlebatch OOC: How long do fairies live?
GM: You’re not sure.
Quimarel OOC: And they don’t have much of a concept of time… “colder” could just mean it was at night.
Hiddlebatch: Have you made any efforts to find him? Do you have any idea why he’s missing or who would take him?
Fairy: Well, he’s not part of my hive -- his hive lives a little bit north of here. But as far as I know, nobody knows where to start looking for him.
Quimarel: Well, we think there’s some sort of plot to capture fairies --
Fairy: My word!
Quimarel: We would like to speak to his hive, if possible. Is there any way you could lead us to them or at least point us in the correct direction?
Fairy: Yes. Hold on one moment…
[The fairy pulls a little bottle of liquid out of his pouch and uses it to sketch something on a leaf]
Hiddlebatch OOC: Sense motive… 20.
GM: You shouldn’t trust him.
Hiddlebatch OOC: With the map, or at all?
GM: At all. Including with the map. Just… no. You remember what you heard about fairy senses of humor from Silvermoss, and this guy looks way too cheerful right now.
Hiddlebatch: You know, in exchange for actually leading us to the hive, we would give you additional mead.
Fairy: How much more mead?
Hiddlebatch: [noting the relative size of the fairy and the mead bottles] A bottlecap?
Fairy: More mead than that.
Quimarel: A cup.
Fairy: I require enough to drown a gnoll.
Hiddlebatch: A gnoll?
Fairy: A gnoll!
Quimarel: [obviously thinking she can con the fairy into accepting a lesser amount] Have you ever seen a gnoll?
Fairy: That’s a gnoll. [points to Makpov]
[Out-of-character swearing ensues]
Hiddlebatch: Well, you get a cup or you get none.
Fairy: I’ll give you this map for a cup.
Quimarel OOC: All we have to do is take the map and avoid anything he points out on the map.
Hiddlebatch: We don’t have that much mead. How about some honey?
Fairy: How much honey? I will take honey as well.
Hiddlebatch: All right. Good. Lead us.
Fairy: Wait. I require enough honey to glue two goblins together by their face-parts.
Hiddlebatch: Well, fortunately for you, honey is very sticky, and goblins have small faces. So… here. [H gives the fairy honey, which he puts in one of his pouches.]
Fairy: Fine. Take the map anyway; I don’t want to carry this.
Hiddlebatch: Thank you for the map.
GM: Roll a Fortitude save.
Hiddlebatch OOC: NOOOO! [swearing]  [sound of dice rolling] [more swearing] I ROLLED A ONE!
Quimarel OOC: [giggling] You gon’ die.

As Hiddlebatch grabs the leaf that the fairy had helpfully painted with Sassone Leaf Residue, under the guise of drawing a map, H suddenly feels dizzy and faint.  [11 damage; 1 Con damage] The fairy starts giggling like a maniac, and Quimarel tries to smash it.

Hiddlebatch: But then we’ll have no guide!
Quimarel: Like he was going to guide us anyway!

Quimarel successfully does two damage. The fairy screeches at her and flies away. Quimarel takes out her sling and does two more damage… of course, neither the rocks or Quimarel’s fist are made of cold iron, so the fairy doesn’t seem at all hurt.  Eventually he gets out of range and turns invisible.

Quimarel looks at the map, being careful not to touch it, only to find that it’s just a bunch of random squiggles.

Fairies: Just say no.

The PCs continue onward, trying to follow Silvermoss’s directions. A few hours later, they spy another fairy.

Hiddlebatch: Ho, fairy folk! We recently encountered a fairy who played a very cunning trick on us --
Fairy: Yes, we do that.
Hiddlebatch : -- but before he did so,  he told us a fairy named Silvermoss has gone missing. We think that there may be a plot  against you, and we’re trying to figure it out. Would you happen to be one of Silvermoss’s hive?
Fairy: I am!
Hiddlebatch: Can you tell us how long ago he went missing?
[long pause]
Fairy: ...well, I think there was snow on the ground.
Quimarel OOC: What time of year is it now?
GM: Mid-spring.
Quimarel OOC: So not too long ago.
Hiddlebatch: Do you know why he was taken?
Fairy: I know exactly why he was taken!
Quimarel: What did he do?
Fairy: Nothing! He was as innocent a fairy as ever… fairied!
Hiddlebatch: So why was he taken?
Fairy: He was taken… so that the big folk could hold power over us.
Quimarel: Hostage.
Fairy: Yes, that’s the word.
Quimarel: Have they made demands?
Fairy: They say they will harm him unless we use our [shifty eyes] talents to gather information for him.
Quimarel OOC: When he does the shifty-eye thing, I look around to see if there are any other fairies in the immediate vicinity.
GM: There probably are -- they can turn invisible.
Quimarel OOC: [swearing]
[Some high Perception checks reveal disturbances in the grass that should not be there, and plants bent as if someone atomie-sized were sitting there.]
Hiddlebatch: Is there any particular reason they took Silvermoss instead of any other fairy?
Fairy: I don’t think so. He had a weird snake fixation.
Hiddlebatch: What information have you given them?
Fairy: Nothing important. Just what big folk do.
Hiddlebatch: Like what?
Fairy: [incredulous] I don’t REMEMBER.
Quimarel: When do you meet these big folk that you report to?
Fairy: Sometimes. Usually when it’s light out.
Quimarel: Do they come to you?
Fairy: No. We write things down.
Hiddlebatch: Do you have any of these papers? We can give you honey?
Fairy: How much honey?
Quimarel: Enough to drown a robin.
Fairy: You could drown a robin with only a thimbleful of honey if you knew what you were doing.
Quimarel: Enough honey to drown a robin even if you were not doing it properly.
Fairy: That is sufficient.
Quimarel OOC:  I speak their language. It’s a weird language that makes no kind of sense.
Fairy: I think I have one of the more recent reports around here somewhere…
Quimarel: Do you keep copies?
Fairy: Why would we do that? We don’t need them. Oh, here it is.
[The fairy hands them a little rolled-up leaf with some writing on it.]
Hiddlebatch: WAIT! Spot… or… whatever you do for… um… ooh, natural 20.
GM: It’s just normal ink this time.
Hiddlebatch: And the leaf? It’s a plain leaf?
GM: Knowledge (nature).
Quimarel: Twenty.
GM: It’s a harmless leaf.
Quimarel: I gingerly take it with my fingernails and I read it.

Leaf:

The big folk who wear black robes to the south were doing many chanting things in the field filled with stones, and then other big folk arrived, but they were different-colored, and didn’t touch things, and floated above the ground.

Quimarel: We would like to work with you. We think we can get Silvermoss back.
Fairy: Oh my.
Quimarel: It might take some time, but if we’re  careful, we can get him back unharmed and safe. But to do that, we need to know what the big folk you’re reporting to are acquiring. We need to know the same information. Do they come to you, or do you go to them?
Fairy: We go to them.
Quimarel: Do you leave the … leaves somewhere?
Fairy: Yes.
Quimarel: Could you show me where?
Fairy: There’s a hole in a tree outside the town to the north.
Quimarel: Are there any… landmarks?
Fairy: There’s a tree.
Quimarel: There are many trees.
Fairy: Not that many trees.
Quimarel: The big folk do not have eyes as sharp as you, and it can be difficult to discern an individual tree.
Fairy: Ah. It is the tree --
Quimarel OOC: If you say “with the leaves“ I will punch you.
Fairy: -- with the fairy nearby putting stuff into the hole.
Quimarel: Okay, if we go at that time, yes, but when you’re not there, it won’t have that landmark.
Hiddlebatch: Why don’t you take us there, since you were on your way with that report anyway?
Fairy: I was not on my way -- I was just holding onto it until someone else was ready to take them to the tree.
Hiddlebatch: When is the time you deliver them?
Fairy: When the spirit moves us.
Hiddlebatch: Can we see any of the other reports? Maybe that the other fairies nearby have?
Fairy: There are no other fairies nearby. It would take forever to go find them and gather them here.
Hiddlebatch: [points at one of the spots where the only explanation for the way that plant is bending is that someone tiny and invisible is sitting on it] There’s one right there!
Fairy: [blatantly lying] No there isn’t.
Quimarel: So if I were to, say, swat really hard right there, nothing would happen.

Hiddlebatch waves its hand around wildly in the general area. Two attack rolls later, the PCs hear a small screech. Something  jabs Hiddlebatch in the hand, and H holds up the new wound for inspection.

Hiddlebatch: See? There’s a fairy right there.

The fairy has, in fact, appeared, since they can’t attack and remain invisible. It glares at Hiddlebatch, then goes and hides in the grass. Hiddlebatch and Quimarel start loudly offering mead for any fairy who has a report they haven’t brought in yet. [Diplomacy: 16]

Spokesfairy: There are no other fairies around. However, if you leave all the mead here, then we will make copies of our reports, and next time we bring them into town, we will also leave copies in a place that you tell us.

Quimarel gives the fairies some directions to the Squirting Squid, and tells them to look for a small box adorned with certain types of flowers, and put their leaves in there. She will also leave more mead in that box, so that the fairies will do the same thing next time.

Hiddlebatch tells the fairies that the Black Sands are the holy touch of an awesome god, preaches its heretical gospel of Khurgorbaeyag, and leaves them one of her terrors. For the next hour or so, she has another convert, but then the fairy in question forgets all about it.

There is some discussion about whether Hiddlebatch can make the fairies Tainted by making one of them eat some of the Black Sand H carries with her. (No -- you’re either born Tainted or you’re not.) H then suggests procreating with them, but the difference in sizes stymies this discussion.

The PCs narrowly avoid getting ambushed by Blood Hawks on the way home: my random encounter table is overruled by the fact that the GM wants to go home and get some sleep.