Make Automatons Great Again (Session 322)

SESSION 322: The Dreaming Caldera Pt.4: Building a Better Messiah 

Things continue to be “messy” but our heroes find a reprieve, will it only complicate matters in the end?

 

Day 771 Continued(Underworld): “The dead rat went thadda way ya dumb-dumbs”, Saffron pointed across the chamber to a door on the south wall. There was another door but we were fixated on finding the rat that would lead us to the ‘Master’. Beyond the door was a t-corridor. This way or that way? West was chosen. The rat had gone east but this would not be figured for some time. 

They had made it maybe 20’ and were inspecting an alcove when noise could be heard coming nearer from the eastern extent. Sounded like wooden wheels and scrapping, perhaps along the walls. Bunny went ahead invisibly. An empty push wagon manned by four hobgoblins whom immediately barked out a series of questions at the visible portion of the party, “What are you zombies doing?” “Why aren’t you working harder?” “Who’s your foreman?” Before they could get to their point the hobs felt the end of hobo sword points. The cart was liberated “for official business reasons” and our gang continued to the west.

Going west they came to a portcullis or a passage into a dimly lit chamber. There was a button within a security box very near the barrier but they chose the chamber. They liked the prospects of leading with the cart. 

“SSsss what do we have here? Ohss whats wonderful freshss human werkerzz”, came from a robed, medallion adorned and topped with a huge gold crown lizardman.

There were giggles from his workers that were clearly ghouls, that numbered eight.

The chamber was smoky from an unventilated forge. Bins and worktables lined the walls; a 3’ dripping, rough textured, tooth- shaped thing stood on a pedestal in the center of the room. 

The ghouls appeared to be laboring to build a part of their new god (Reminder: these italicized bits are usually lifted from whatever adventure we is playing i.e. The Dreaming Caldera. Play it. Enjoy it). 

They hammered eggshells into compacted bricks of baked, calcified porcelain. The brick are glued together in a mold to form an enormous tooth. The incisor here was nearing completion. 

 

It quickly became apparent were Gurk was so unctuous, the hobos would provide a wonderful fleshy morale boon for his workers. This was when shit got real. Both parties were in an unacknowledged standoff. Hobos twitched first and the ghouls went feral for flesh. The wagon was not as helpful as hoped, it actually limited movement. The front-line was swarmed and Dolec was held by whatever paralytic pathogen ghouls excrete. The holy rollers decided to simultaneously call down the vanquishing light of their respective gods. It was a light show but no ‘Kablam’. 

Gurk’s large crystal medallion glowed in response and swallowed the holy light. 

The ghouls were ecstatic with flesh lust. 

                                                Flesh Eating Ghouls from Outer Space!

The fairy missed with her shot at the necromancer. Lester worked his way around the cart and into battle. Gurk then cast a web upon Bunny and Lester. It was up to the clerics and Saff to get something done. The ghouls were upon them with claws and festering fangs. With the big fail on the turning the hobos realized they were in serious trouble. Ghouls were tearing off Dolec’s armor to get to his flesh and with two immobilized in the web the number of ghoul attacks per adventurer had gone up. Bunny was able to activate her flame brand and ignite the web. Her and Lester would have to burn to escape the sticky threads. It was time for desperate measures as Dolec’s life hung in the balance. The funny thing is that the bad guys were not really all that formidable the hobos just had to get their hands dirty, so to speak. Carla bashed down the first ghoul as Bimbles freed the now almost dead Dolec from the ghoul paralysis and Saff began tenderizing the necromancer. They got lucky and none succumbed to another wave of ghoul lust. Bunny and Lester were now slightly singed but free. The hobos leaned into the ghouls and the boss-man-lizard.

The tables turned. 

Moments later the battle was over.

Bimbles smote the ‘god-tooth’ with his mace, “Fuck yo’ tooth!” before smashing Gurk’s evil anti-turning medallion. 

Healing magics. Healing magics. Healing magics.

That fight was a train-wreck but Gurk’s huge golden crown would be darn good pay.

 

Taking the northern door they once more found themselves in the pentagonal cross-roads. West was the only untravelled option. They found themselves on the other side of the portcullis. “I guess we should have opened it”, opined Bunny. 

Bimble’s ignored her as he looked into an adjacent chamber. 

Kettles simmered over small, open flames. Bins and worktables line the walls; a large, ghoulish orb of milky putrescent albumen balances on a low table in the center of the room and stinks powerfully of sour and egg. Four harpies were poaching hundreds of egg white. 

It looked like they had found the god-eye workshop. They pushed their cart in and acted dumb. The harpies were rather involved in their holy works so to start they just told the gang to get lost. When they did not comply the stinky bird broads got irritated and began to sing their beguiling song. Hobos closed in and the harpies realized something was up. This fight went much better than the previous and was closed out expediently. Each wore exquisite gold and platinum ankle braclets. The god-eye was popped and they back tracked all the way to the southern door of the chicken chamber. Now proceeding to explore the eastern passage, “I guess my rat actually went this way…” came from Lester. 

Down this passage they ran into, were run into, by a lone female badgerfolk. It took a little negotiation but they made an ally whom knew something about the dungeon. Enoki was nearly dwarf sized but broader and hairier overall with large clawed hands made for burrowing. She was making to escape the dungeon via a secret badgerfolk tunnel and offered respite to the crew. They wholeheartedly accepted. Moving further east and then north Enoki pointed out a stairwell that went deeper into the dungeon but could provide no further detail on it. She then lead then to a trapezoidal crossroad, feathers filth, wagon tracks and three doors. They took the SE door. The northern connected to the acid chamber and Enoki did not know what was behind the NW door. 

The first chamber they came upon had great drifting piles of dirty feathers and nose-tickling dander fill the room to the ceiling. 

They passed through into what appeared to be a trash/ storage chamber. 

A staggering array of disorganized miscellanea and festering garbage. Folded clothing, piles of rotting chicken feet, barrels full of pole-arms, coils of hemp rope, a small sailing ship, a neat stack of human corpses in a puddle of brown fluid. 

Inside were another four hobgoblins exhausted and dirty, dumping crap from another wagon. When their attempt to coerce the gang into labour they quickly found out that the hobos, “Had not heard the music”. They were quickly slaughtered.

Behind the small sailing ship was the Badgerfolk Tunnels. 

Soft and constantly collapsing. Ran for miles all the way down the mountain to the badgerfolk forest. 

Enoki leapt in and called out to the hobos to follow. “Keep up and stay in my wake. We will be home before you know it”. 

It took but a couple of hours as they seemed to have almost been on a slide. 

After introductions they were warmly welcomed into the clan. 

Attended by the healer, well fed and then rested (once more bitterly dreamless). After breakfast Enoki once ore took them to the tunnel. Even up hill the journey only took an additional hour or so. She wished our hobos well and reminded them to put the boat back in its place after they re-entered the dungeon.

 

 

The A-Team: Bunny, Carla, Bimbles, Saffron, Charles, Dolec Da, Nara & Lester

 

ROLECALL 

Carla the Green High Priestess of TMB (C10) 363590 xp +10% <400001> CRT 1d12/III

            Scars: permanent loss left index finger and scarring on arm

Bimbles the High Priest of GSS (C10) 327825 xp +5% <400001> CRT 1d12/III

            +2 save to poison and internal body things; Double eat (gotta feed my baybay)

Bunny the Thief! (T10) 319435 xp <400001> +10% CRT 1d24/II

            Light wound: permanent loss of pinky finger, off hand

 

            The Henchmen

Saffron the Mad Fairy Queen of Ribbits (FY8*) 201739 xp <200001> CRT 1d10/III

            Moderate wound: Scar on abdomen

            Lasting injury: -1 STR, mashed guts

Nara the Nearly Naked Purple Swami Girl (PS7) 116268 xp +5% <125000> CRT 1d16/II

Wraith Drained: -1 CON

Charles in Charge the Myrmidon (F6) 89866 <120000> +10% CRT 1d20/IV

            Franz the Grave Return (Lawful; XXXX) Sword

Critical Wound: Punctured lung (-2 CON) 

            Mostly DEAD. (-1 CON)

Dolec Da the Hero (F7) 74855 xp +10% <120000> CRT 1d20/IV

            Missing five teeth

Lester Flanders the Guardian of Oceana (P6)  52155 xp <95000> +5% CRT 1d16/IV

 

RESERVES

Elapsed Campaign Time

743b days at beginning of session (Boris & Friends just outside of Liwil)

765a (Bunny Group Newville) Busy until 779

724d (Ding-We Gang Lake of Abominations/ Liwil)

 

Join us for session Three-Hundred-and-Twenty-Three when we ask the questions:

Two god bits down, what next?

How many god bits is there?

With a twelve hour break on the board will the denizens be on alert?

Why haven’t we heard the music?

Tale of the Tape

I don’t know how Dolec is not dead, I must be getting soft.

Nara and Charles continue their voyage down the petrification river.

KILLS

Hobgoblins (8) 

Gurk the Lizardman Necromancer 

Ghouls (8)

Zombies (3) 

Harpies (4)

LOOT

8 gp

Huge golden crown 4000 gp  

Platinum and gold ankle bracelets (4) 2000 gp each

Badgerberries (20) d4+1 hp spoil in 30 days

Steaming Fresh Bull Stuff and that Irresistible Rhythm (Session 321)

SESSION 321: The Dreaming Caldera Pt.3: Stone Cold Crazy 

Carla and Bimbles recognized an imminent defeat and called for a tactical retreat into the pavilion and down the steps to hopefully get beyond the reach of the gigantic tyrannical trio….

 

Day 771 Continued(Underworld): And so, once more, they had descended into the lightless pit. Down ancient black stairs carved into the volcanic rock they were at a cross-roads. 

The dungeon was a seemingly natural cavern chambers made of seamless black volcanic glass. Too many 90 degree angles to occur naturally; its architecture defies conventional wisdom of construction. 12’ ceilings, no natural light sources. 

To the west were double-doors of iron-reinforced wood. 

The east offered a corridor and south was an archway that lead to a black glass bridge in a gapping chamber of acidic odour.

“I take the door, definitely the door”, was Bunny’s contribution.

“Perhaps after we check the corridor was Bimbles’s counter. 

The east end was dead.

They returned and were about to go to the door when they remembered the dead goblin up the stairs. Maybe he had loot. He did. An interesting gauntlet with three red fingers. Our gang were not afforded too much time to think about it as a very large and very angry demonic bull covered in thick armoured plates came to the crossroad from the bridge.

A gorgon, crap!                                            

It wasted no time blasting the first of two petrifying breath attacks upon our twits trapped on the steps. Remember there were three giant beings just outside the pavilion at the top of the stairwell. They showed their fortitude with the first blast but the second took its toll. Nara and Charles were now statues. After the second blast the hobos were able to maneuver around the demon-bull and get their chopping in. Dolec and Bimbles faced it head on as the rest of the gang worked the angles. They got it down without further calamity. The pay, after gutting, was not worth the gore and time two pitiful gems that may turn out to simply be kidney stones. If only we had a dwarf with us.

After grabbing a break they pressed on through the door to the east (after a quick picking). This revealed a corridor that lead to a series of ever increasingly hot staging rooms, filled with dopey folk that only responded to talk about the music. In the third and final chamber was the catalyst for a bit of a grand thrall melee. The Heckling was found here a bird-faced runt with a strangely hairy chest that he took some pride in.

 

He/it was busy posing, and looting, the mixed folk in this chamber he gave simple directions “Braaa wait your turns over there. I will get you stuff so enough. HeHe” to our lot not giving any real consideration. The dwarfy weirdo seemed to be prepping (stealing from) and then assigning tasks these slaves. Something structured was going on but our gang seem to drop clues like birds drop shit, falling never to be seen again every few minutes. The heckling eventually caught on and the jig was up. He sent his legion at our dorks. They slaughtered the sub-humans with abandon while subduing the humans for later interview. When the dust settled the only non-human still breathing in the chamber was Saff. This was to our Ribbit-Queen’s satisfaction. The saved humans could not offer much other than acknowledging that the Heckling had beguiled them and now they were here, wherever that is. They were directed to hunker down, “We will return for you after we have completed our heroic mission”, pledged Lester. 

“Works for us. Best of luck”.

Returning to the glossy black dungeon corridor the went further into another chamber the Pentagonal crossroads. 

Chittering goblin voices and the rhythmic “thunk” of a butcher knife are audible from outside the door. 

Four doors connect to a pentagon shaped-room with 60’ ceilings. Ichor- stained wagon tracks criss-cross the floor. Billowy deposits of white feathers accumulate in the corners. There were four goblinoids working away, huddled in a corner, hacking apart a pile of chickens, fastidiously separating the parts into discrete piles. They ignored our hobos but our sports have a zero tolerance for beastmen, well except Brett & Jermaine of course. 

Three doors to choose from. 

East.

Another corridor with two door along its path. 

They went long.

Welcome to the knackers. The chamber was absurdly hot and lead to a laddered landing in the acidic bridge chamber. Immense iron kettles gurgled over hot coal beds. The northern wall hosted an overstuffed shelf full of pots and jars with opaque, viscous fluids. A blood splattered cutting board and a wet pile of unidentifiable animal tissue cover a table along the southern wall. Four sooty bugbears stirred pots and hacked apart an orc corpse. They seemed to be rendering down their/ the (?) victims into a goo. They were killed with prejudice immediately. After a quick pan and scan Lester acted impulsively. The paladin threw down the Red Prophet’s homing rat. With a spark of mystical energy the dead thing sprung to life. The rat ran like a lightning bolt back down the corridor to the west. 

Folks ran after it. 

The rat wiggled under the unopened door. 

Our hobos followed.

Opening the door unleashed an oppressive wave of hot animal stench. Footfalls were muffled by inches of squishing, compacted filth. A vast chamber of gaping darkness; then surging suddenly into the light: a crashing wave of 1000 screaming chickens. 

A poultry wave rolled over the gang. Inter-mixed within the birds were a half-dozen 6’ tall prehistoric-like dire chickens. These things demanded flesh but not in a cannibal like way. Hobo flesh was on the menu. 

Game on.

Well sorta, they were still just chickens but from a time long forgotten.

The flock peeled through to points behind and the dire chickens met dire straits.

But!

“For crying out loud! Where is my rat!?!”, screamed out our normally stoic paladin.

 

 

The A-Team: Bunny, Carla, Bimbles, Saffron, Charles, Dolec Da, Nara & Lester

 

ROLECALL 

Carla the Green High Priestess of TMB (C10) 363590 xp +10% <400001> CRT 1d12/III

            Scars: permanent loss left index finger and scarring on arm

Bimbles the High Priest of GSS (C10) 327825 xp +5% <400001> CRT 1d12/III

            +2 save to poison and internal body things; Double eat (gotta feed my baybay)

Bunny the Thief! (T10) 319435 xp <400001> +10% CRT 1d24/II

            Light wound: permanent loss of pinky finger, off hand

 

            The Henchmen

Saffron the Mad Fairy Queen of Ribbits (FY8*) 201739 xp <200001> CRT 1d10/III

            Moderate wound: Scar on abdomen

            Lasting injury: -1 STR, mashed guts

Nara the Nearly Naked Purple Swami Girl (PS7) 116268 xp +5% <125000> CRT 1d16/II

Wraith Drained: -1 CON

Charles in Charge the Myrmidon (F6) 89866 <120000> +10% CRT 1d20/IV

            Franz the Grave Return (Lawful; XXXX) Sword

Critical Wound: Punctured lung (-2 CON) 

            Mostly DEAD. (-1 CON)

Dolec Da the Hero (F7) 74855 xp +10% <120000> CRT 1d20/IV

            Missing five teeth

Lester Flanders the Guardian of Oceana (P6)  52155 xp <95000> +5% CRT 1d16/IV

 

RESERVES

Elapsed Campaign Time

743b days at beginning of session (Boris & Friends just outside of Liwil)

765a (Bunny Group Newville) Busy until 779

724d (Ding-We Gang Lake of Abominations/ Liwil)

 

Join us for session Three-Hundred-and-Twenty-Two when we ask the questions:

Is something going on down here?

Could we have been more…?

Which way did Lester’s rat go?

Did anyone see anything during the chicken frenzy?

Tale of the Tape

Nara and Charles sailed down the petrification river, see ya later!

KILLS

Angry Gorgon 

Orc

Orange Bugbear

Gnolls (3)

Skunk Goblins (4) 

Dire Chickens (6) 

Sooty Chef Bugbears (4)

LOOT

8 sp

Gems (2): small ruby 10 gp, flawed diamond 50 gp

Glove with three red fingers

Inscribed arrowhead 

The Hecklings not empty sack

Thems be Cultin' Words! (Session 320)

SESSION 320: The Dreaming Caldera Pt.2: Getting Pummelled 

The ascent was the first of their challenges. 

 

Day 767 Continued - 768 (Wilds): A day was used and three winter wolf pelts were salvaged. Bimbles saw nothing but coin as our Elvish guides seemed a little more dejected by the relaxed hero schedule. 

Day 769 (Wilds): Back to hiking towards the cloud wall. The journey was unvenetful just slogging through the snow. They camped an hour or so away from the optical barrier. 

Day 770 (Wilds): The elves gave some final direction this morning, wished Borlax’s speed to them and the two groups parted company. 

The barrier was odd. Thousands of feet high and impenetrable by eye. They planned for the worse and tied everybody off. It ended up simply being a bank fifteen or so feet deep. Just enough to put a little fear into your garden variety murderhobo. Looming, even though it was still a number of miles away was Mt. Embersnake. They made their way working along the broken patches of forest to hide the approach.

By late morning they had reached the “faster/easier” (deforested side) Western trail up Mt. Embersnake. A six thousand foot ascent is a long hike before you factor in the all the switchbacks. They would make less than half the journey today. With this side of the mountain being in the open the gang decided to get invisible for the journey. 

It was only an hour or so before the first encounter. A gross little rotund man doing his best to run down the mountain from a pursuing group of baying gnolls. Acting quickly Charles and Dolec sneakily stretched a rope across the path, intending to trip up the gnolls. It did end up sorta working but the little fat guy failed his attempt to waddle over the unsprung trap. He skidded out. Inciting the gnolls to charge. The first two were wanged by the trap and then our troop engaged the group. Those invisibilities didn’t last long did they. The fight was quick. Five well surprised gnolls really stood no chance. The little fat and waxy guy, the Red Prophet, was grateful. Before skipping away giggled a prophecy pout and handed a dead rat to Lester. 

Eyeball, tooth, bone, and brow Blaspheme against the true god’s power For each destroyed, the birth forestalls And lucre grease thy grubby paws! Defile the organs with thy swords Then seek the master for your reward.

“The rat will show you the way to the Master”, were his final words. Lester did his good-guy best to appear gracious to the walrus-like man.

They watched him waddle-skip for a spell before continuing the ascent. All went well until high afternoon.

Swooping out of the sun were a trio of pteradon riders armed with bows and lances. They had the first move. Bow fire followed by dive bomb attacks. The run and gun pattern kept them out of melee, at least for awhile. Saffron pulled out her wand of paralysis to turn the tables on these black knights and their prehistoric mounts. For one of them it became very difficult to stay airborne when your mount can no longer fly. They crashed into the slope. The impact did not kill the rider forcing Bunny to become embroiled in a one-on-one. Slowly the gang got the fight under control and opponents began to drop (probably in part assisted by the cheating but too late to punish now). The fight ended the pay was pretty good and then they marched on for awhile more before setting camp.

 

Day 771 (Wilds): The camp on the slope was thankfully uneventful. It took about three hours to reach the summit. Invisible Bunny crept up and looked over the rim. The mountain was crowned by a dry, 300’ diameter, bowl shaped caldera. Cold winds blew a dusting of snow across its cracked earth. At its center sits a blackened and ruined marble pavilion. A staircase inside descending into the mountain’s core. An armor-clad, foaming from the mouth, elongated limbed giant, kneeled before the pavilion surrounded by javelins embedded in the cracked soil. Bunny fell back and then the group entered the caldera. Nothing happened, so they began running towards the pavilion. As they closed the range to a hundred or so feet away a voice echoed from all directions, “HAVE YOU HEARD THE MUSIC?” .

Then a little hooded gimp limped from the pavilion towards the hobos. Meanwhile the giant had arisen but stood motionless as foam bubbled from its helm and down its body to the dry earth. When the gang (whom began prancing and declaring they had heard the music) and the little guy halved the distance between it thrust forth an iron clad gauntlet and then shrieked “They have not heard the music!” 

The tyrant immediately grabbed two adjacent javelins and hurled them. The fight was on. The little guy now identified as a goblin made haste back towards the pavilion. Our tanks rushed the giant only to be greeted by an acidic foam vomit spray and then surprised by two more iron-clad giants erupting from under the earth. The fight started out on the wrong foot and only got worse. The tyrants seemed indifferent to physical damage as the smashed hobo with the mighty fists connected to their abnormally long arms. The clerics each transformed bundles of sticks into snakes in an attempt to distract the beasts to allow the gang to regroup. The giants gave almost no heed to the snakes after a couple of quick smashes obliterating scores of serpents. The fight was going really poorly at least they were able to neutralize the goblin before it escaped and likely sounded the alarm. 

Carla and Bimbles recognized an imminent defeat and called for a tactical retreat. Into the pavilion and down the steps they bolted to hopefully evade the reach of the tyrannical trio….

 

 

The A-Team: Bunny, Carla, Bimbles, Saffron, Charles, Dolec Da, Nara & Lester

 

ROLECALL 

Carla the Green High Priestess of TMB (C10) 358909 xp +10% <400001> CRT 1d12/III

            Scars: permanent loss left index finger and scarring on arm

Bimbles the High Priest of GSS (C10) 323144 xp +5% <400001> CRT 1d12/III

            +2 save to poison and internal body things; Double eat (gotta feed my baybay)

Bunny the Thief! (T10) 314754 xp <400001> +10% CRT 1d24/II

            Light wound: permanent loss of pinky finger, off hand

 

            The Henchmen

Saffron the Mad Fairy Queen of Ribbits (FY7) 199399 xp <200001> CRT 1d10/III

            Moderate wound: Scar on abdomen

            Lasting injury: -1 STR, mashed guts

Nara the Nearly Naked Purple Swami Girl (PS7) 113928 xp +5% <125000> CRT 1d16/II

Wraith Drained: -1 CON

Charles in Charge the Myrmidon (F6) 87256 <120000> +10% CRT 1d20/IV

            Franz the Grave Return (Lawful; XXXX) Sword

Critical Wound: Punctured lung (-2 CON) 

            Mostly DEAD. (-1 CON)

Dolec Da the Hero (F7) 72515 xp +10% <120000> CRT 1d20/IV

            Missing five teeth

Lester Flanders the Guardian of Oceana (P6)  49775 xp <95000> +5% CRT 1d16/IV

 

RESERVES

Elapsed Campaign Time

743b days at beginning of session (Boris & Friends just outside of Liwil)

761a (Bunny Group Newville) Busy until 779

724d (Ding-We Gang Lake of Abominations/ Liwil)

 

Join us for session Three-Hundred-and-Twenty-One when we ask the questions:

What just happened?

Those foaming long-armed giants were unusual weren’t they?

Is our crew rusty from their Winter retreat?

Who or what is the Master?

 

Tale of the Tape

We got to the precipice, lets keep pushing

KILLS

Gnolls (5) 

Pteradons (3) 

Black Wing Knights (3) 

LOOT

50 pp

3003 gp

2000 sp

Wolf pelts (3) @ 5,000 gp each

Everyone Hates Felix (Session 319)

SESSION 319: CSI: Liwil (the one and only Felix show) 

Felix is mixing with the locals in search of a murderer, hope he survives the experience

 

Day  722 (Liwil): Sometime in the possibly not so distant past... 

It had taken some time but Felix had made it to Liwil after the slow trek through the deep snows. Before the whole Statue Garden thing Ding-We had directed our sleuth to head down to solve a murder that occurred in the shanty village outside the gates of the keep. By the time he arrived a second murdering had been conducted. 

Not one to rush into things Felix set himself up in The Knight and Stone Tavern in the keep before heading to the mining camp. A good rest and a couple of hot meals would bring his investigating skills to the fore. That evening a third murder transpired. Felix was roused early in the morning by the guard. After getting the details he committed to commencing his investigation after breakfast – “A hungry mind is a feral mind”.

A few hours later he walked out the gate and into the shanty town. Following the 'rabble rabble rabble' he came to the back of a line of children. 

A young girl was selling ‘poke the dead body with a stick’ for a very reasonable copper piece per poke. “Hmm what an enterprising young lass. She could be useful”, he mused. 

“Get in line snoop we were here first!” 

“YAAAA!!! We is poking!”

“Now now children I am the authority and must control the scene of this heinous crime”

“Boooo”

Felix eventually, after some bribing, got to the well frozen corpse. A miner woman with a well bashed in skull, the same modus operandi as the previous murders. Using his powers of deduction Felix ascertained that the murder had indeed occurred the previous evening, been conducted with the large bloody rock (just over there) and she had not been robbed (the gold nuggets in her pocket were now Felix’s evidence). Nothing else could be gleened from the scene. He would have to conduct interviews. Returning to the guard he inquired about the ‘people of note’ within the shanty town. 

With some names of ‘folk of note’ Felix was off to do some interviews. First stop the healer (Cloe Lange) and then The Drinking Shack where he met the proprietor one-eyed-and-legged Cen Saard along with his son Con, whom was fully intact. It was on the quiet side but Felix spent some time speaking to Nea Wald a grizzled veteran miner and one of the first to arrive in the shanty town from Liwil. He gleened a deeper understanding of the miner community and observed those insidious kids pestering the local lumbering dolt Dod. 

Nothing to bring him closer to the murderer but those kids definitely needed a purpose… 

The interviews ate through the day and by early afternoon he decided to return to the keep for a nap and something other than 'crispy rat avec grease' for dinner. He planned to return to the shanty town to see who shows up at the bar that evening. 

Rested and "properly" fed Felix returned to the Drinking Shack. The place was crowded, not that it was hard to do, it is a shack after all. Our investigator received his usual warm welcome upon announcing his presence – a look, a grumble and back to whatever they were doing. Also as per usual, Felix took no note and went about his things. Nea was still present and more than willing to bend any ear. A few drinks and a couple of rounds for the patrons and Felix found himself playing cards and getting open dialogue. The night stretched on as the drinks continued to be drained. A good night but no fresh information. Felix was now a bit ‘lit up’. It was time to make his way back to the keep while he could still walk. 

"Tomorrow. Tomorrow. Tomorrow will have better results", speaking to the night sky as he staggered out of the Drinking Shack into the cold and starry evening.

 

Normally being intoxicated undermines one’s ability to process the details of their surroundings. 

However, Felix is special with a big ‘S’. 

He caught a shadow from the corner of his eye, at just the right time, as he bumbled through a quiet alleyway. He spun to his left as a large rock just missed mashing his melon in. 

Turning he saw a hulking man with a mop (e.g. one of those mopey Ramones guys) haircut and a handle bar moustache.

“Who are you? Show yourself. Villian!”, exclaimed the investigator as he reached out into the shadows. His hand grabbed a handle bar that turned out to be only somewhat affixed allowing the offender to slip from grip. 

It was a disguise! His other hand shot out and pulled at the mop-top. It slid off and dropped into the snow. 

“Wait! You are the dolt - Dod!”. 

The hulking man said nothing. 

No longer the dumb-dumb it would seem as a mighty fist slammed into Felix’s solar plexus – Woof! 

He now had the eyes of a heartless serial murderer. 

The investigator raised his fists, “I was first class boxer in school you know”. 

Blows were traded. Over and over again. 

Never a word from Dod just a single-minded murderous focus. 

Swings and dodges by both. 

Over and over again.

The brute was skilled, very skilled. 

But. 

 

Felix really knew how to put up a defence and wait for an opening. 

After many brutal minutes Dod lay unconscious in the snow. 

Looking at the brute and then the large stone sharing the icy ground as a resting place Felix realized that the murders had been solved. He began yelling for the constabulary. 

Guards showed up and after some direction they bound the hulk and dragged him off to a holding cell. Our investigator finally got around to finishing his stumble back to the inn.

 

The following day.

Dod would hang.

Before the folk of the mining camp whom jeered the lout and cheered Felix, which was a welcome change. 

Dod did not concede to any prodding nor did he tell any secrets before stepping forth.

His body dropped and his neck snapped.

The people cheered and Felix had become a folk hero.

“Hmmm. I wonder if I should have interrogated him first? What if he was more than simply a monster…”. 

 

A few days later.

Ding-We and company returned to Liwil.

“Sir, I have great news!”

“Don’t care dork I have other business”

Felix made his way back to the drinking shack flanked by reprobate children.

He had friends after all.

The F-Team: Felix… and maybe some children if we really stretch it.

 

ROLECALL 

Felix Ignatius Hemlock the once skeletal Sleuth (I7) 47017 <80001> +5% CRT 1d16/II

RESERVES

Elapsed Campaign Time

743b days at beginning of session (Boris & Friends just outside of Liwil)

689a (Bunny Group Newville) Busy until 779

724d (Ding-We Gang Lake of Abominations/ Liwil)

 

Join us for session Three-Hundred-and-Twenty when we ask the questions:

Will Felix ever be in the limelight again?

            A: Let us be honest. All measures will be taken to avoid such an occurrence.

What plans does Felix’s Fight Club for Kids really entail?

Who does Swifta also work for and are they a problem?

Tale of the Tape

KILLS

Huge Harold aka Dod the Assassin 1000 

LOOT

A handful of gold nuggets