Archive for július, 2012

[Campaign Journal] Sword, Sorcery and Minarets #08

vasárnap, július 15th, 2012

by Gabor Lux

The Guardian

“210 gold pieces, 60 platinum pieces, and eight green bars that look like expensive drugs.” – Ambrosius counted the contents of the iron lockbox.
“That’s not the 93 gp you had missing.” – remarked Burzasp. Marasura was also sceptical: “I do not want a single gold piece.” – he added.
“He was animal torturing scum.” – Vifranavaz interjected.
“We can still smoke this green stuff, though –” said Santiago as he pocketed two of them – “But we have to get out of this city now.”

That was a plan. Thorlig the Northman had to stay behind in the rented room, as he was wracked with vomiting and diarrhea due to a particularly unpleasant tropical illness, and that was the last his companions saw of him. [GM’s note: Basically, Thorlig’s player was absent that session, and later lost his character sheet in a round of housecleaning. So it goes.] The others separated into two companies, and in the grey hour before dawn, Burzasp, Ambrosius and Vifranavaz stalked through the streets to avoid detection. In the gateway of a deserted house, a mound of slime glistened, and a spectral form arose, a skeleton surrounded by transparent jelly. “Come…” – intoned the visage, but the party decided to make a run for it, and was soon standing next to the eastern gate. The guards of the Seigneurs were lost in conversation. Vifranavaz cast a spell on Ambrosius, turning his appearance to that of a decrepit old man. They lead their mounts to the gate.
“Hail! What is your purpose this early morning?” – asked a bearded man.
“We embark on a pilgrimage.” – Vifranavaz answered – “We are escorting this old man to Birtham.”
“But there lies nothing but the Waste of the Unbelievers—“
Burzasp drew the guard aside – “You know. We arent’t taking him too far…”.
“So that’s your game!” – the man laughed – “Well, I’m not keeping you. Good luck, and may the gods be with you – Ozolba excepting, of course.”
Slightly later, another pair approached the northern gate. Santiago and Marasura had heard the cries on the market, news of a gruesome find in the streets, and hushed whispers that the Scarlet Man might have had something to do with it. They walked out unchallenged, and when they were out of sight, circled around to the road leading southwest.
“You know, that cat merchant really was suspiciously wealthy.”– mused Ambrosius.

[Campaign Journal] Sword, Sorcery and Minarets #07

vasárnap, július 15th, 2012

by Gabor Lux

City State of the Charnel God

The marble and alabaster terraces and gilded cupolas of the Citadel of the She-Sultan receded in the distance; the road wound along the seacoast on a high escarpment. After purchasing horses and leaving their boat in the harbour, the characters were approaching the walls of Arfel. The road was empty of traffic, and there was grass among the stones. Finally, among a double row of crumbling statues standing on ancient columns, there was Arfel’s southern gate, or where it used to be: the entrance between the two round towers was walled up and obviously out of use. Beyond the wall rose dark and dilapidated-looking buildings.

After circling a plateau dotted with shanties and chaotic clusters of houses, the party now approached the western gate, wide open with a motley gang of fighters in colourful garbs watching the road. They hailed the newcomers, and, after collecting their one gp fee, warned them about Arfel’s peculiar customs. The City State of the Charnel God was ruled by the cultists of Ozolba the Zombie God, and his immense, labyrinthine temple-complex dominated every view. All within the walls was free for Ozolba’s taking, and the veiled priest exercised this right without mercy, seizing anything and anyone they wished, and carrying it back to their vast necropolis. The city aristocracy was in turn a circle of noble families, who mostly populated the orderly but rather abandoned upper city: their windowless mansions like so many mausoleums, they observed the Necrotic Traditions, which ascribed a funereal life to both living and dead. Neither the priests nor the aristocrats concerned themselves much with worldly interests (or at least they hid them well), and therefore, civilian rule in Arfel was practically left to six Seigneurs. Their names were Salvar Afzal the Sailor; Rahman Rashid Uthman; the lady Zaida Shura; Omar Nezam the Alleyway Lord; Hyelmékshú; and The Crimson Man. The armed forces of the city consisted of their followers, and key points like the gates or the harbours were under common supervision.