Welcome to our third story in Calvenor! There’s a lot to get into today, so I’ll jump right in. If you missed the level-up bonus post mid-week, here it is!
Our three PCs have officially entered Downtime, alive and with packs full of loot. Unlike last time, each PC has some specific goals for this time between adventures, so we’ll be going character by character through today. Before the individual explorations, though, let’s define this Downtime period. To see how much time will pass between adventures, I’ll roll 2d6 on the handy Downtime Period table: The result is 1d3+1 weeks, or… 2 weeks! Wow. A much shorter time than last time, which makes some sense narratively.
What’s going to officially end this period and kick off another adventure? I roll 1d6 on the Downtime Event table and get: 2, GM Special. That’s less helpful, but thankfully fits right into the broad idea that I had planned for this adventure. I’ll put a pin in this result for a moment and now turn to our individual PC activities.
Let’s begin with Vessa. Her biggest complication heading into Oakton is the warrant on her head, which will persist a full three months even after this Downtime. Staying in the city is dangerous for her. So, I’ll make a Luck(Per) roll, with the logic that if she can spot the City Watch before they snag her, she’ll be okay. She needs a 14 or less on a d20 and rolls 13. Whew! She avoids incarceration for now, and her Luck drops to 10. One possibility I was holding in my mind is that we would begin this adventure with a prison break!
Vessa’s biggest vice is carousing, but given the short Downtime period, I first want to deal with her sale of the golden lantern she obtained in the Starless Rift’s vault. I handwaved the sale of the first lantern, but they’re a possible plot-hook for me now (on my Threads list for adventure tie-ins) so I want to pay a little more attention to them now. It also gives me a chance to roll my first Black Market Trade roll. I’ll assume she has underworld connections through the Latchkey Circle, which is the first prerequisite for making such a sale. Second, Vessa must make another Luck save, this time Luck(Cha), to avoid a complication. It’s a true 50/50 roll, and she rolls a 9! Her Luck drops to 9, but she makes the sale without incident.
…and thus, begins carousing. I’ll say she spends the money she made on the golden antique lantern. Here’s her Carousing table roll: 87, which is Hireling, “By some miracle (aka alcohol), you attract the service of 1 (rolled on 1d3) random hireling, who agree to work with you for free for one week. If you want to retain them beyond this, you’ll have to pay as normal.” Oh, excellent! This roll gives us an opportunity to both add a character at the beginning of the next adventure and test out the Hireling rules.
Let’s make a Hireling! First, is it a non-combatant or mercenary? I roll high-low and get mercenary. What’s his (for maximum romantic tension) background? I roll 1d8 and get thug. His personality on a d00 table is lazy, and his signature trait is that he only whispers. A 1d12 gets us his gear: heavy mace, medium armor. And his catchphrase (yes, there’s a table for this!) is “I feels it in me bones.” He’ll have the same stats as a Human Bandit, which basically means he has no bonuses or penalties to any stats and has 1d8 hit points. I’ll use my homebrewed handy name generator and come out with Rusk Holloway. I’ll flesh out his background later. For now, Vessa will have his services for free for 1 week starting at the story, then will need to pay him to retain his services thereafter.
All in all, quite a successful Downtime for Vessa Velthorn, despite the depleted Luck! And welcome, Rusk!
XXIX.
Thawmere 12, Wyrdsday, Year 732
Vessa cinched her belt as she entered the small bedroom. She froze, surprised, then groaned in frustration. Smoothly, she wove her way through discarded clothes and empty bottles to the bed and looked down on the figure there. He was pale and barrel-chested. His left ear, the one facing her as he softly snored on his side, had a cauliflower look to it, clearly the result of some fight. The man kept his head shaved down to stubble, but eyebrows were blonde and part of a heavy brow.
“Rusk,” she said roughly, patting his broad cheek. “We’re going to be late. Let’s go.”
He stirred and blinked wearily, raising a scarred, beefy hand to shield squinting eyes from a sunbeam.
“Huh?” he grumbled, voice quiet and gravely.
“I said get up,” she sighed, throwing a shirt at him. “You said you were up when I got up. If you want in on this job, we leave now.”
“Babe,” he smiled, still shielding his eyes. “Come back to bed, eh?” Rusk never spoke above a whisper. Vessa wasn’t sure if he couldn’t speak louder or simply refused to, but she suspected the latter. He was the kind of guy that tried his best to both blend into the background and intimidate others, excellent occupational skills for a hired thug.
“Your call,” she winked, but her face was irritated. Vessa moved towards the door.
He grunted in exasperation, picking up the rumpled shirt from the bed while swinging his thick legs to sit up. “Fine, fine. I’m coming.”
She watched him dress, arms folded. Rusk stood about the same height as her but probably weighed twice as much. He looked like his grandfather might have been a tree stump, because everything about the man was squat and thick, and he moved with no sense of urgency whatsoever. Twice she threatened to leave if he didn’t hurry, and finally threw open the door and stormed out as he slowly laced up his boots. Now that she considered it, she’d never seen Rusk do anything quickly in their short acquaintance.
But he followed her ably enough and caught up to her as she stopped outside the Swaying Lantern, the dockside inn where she’d stayed the past week. The smell of tar, horse dung, and sweat assaulted her nose upon the damp planks. It was a clear day, but still crisp in winter at the start of a new year. Practical trade-goods shops crowded around the inn, a small mercantile oasis amidst the busy docks. All around, laborers mended nets, walked with crates upon their shoulders, and pulled goods with horse-drawn carts. Gulls cried overhead, and somewhere distant was a chorus of hammering from a construction project. Vessa shaded her eyes with a hand from the bright sun, since the docks received less shade from the sprawling Argenoak’s branches than most of the city.
“Where’re we going?” Rusk huffed softly at her side.
“First we meet my friend, then we go see the wizard.” Vessa bit her lip when saying that last part. She hadn’t seen Alric since they’d arrived back in Oakton two weeks ago, despite a few attempts by them both. The prospect of a reunion made her stomach flutter.
“Come on,” she set off. “We’re definitely going to be late.”
Maelen, you’re up! Alas, the Downtime length cheated her out of recovering from her rage. Per the Tales of Argosa recovery rules, Madness can only be put into remission after eight weeks of Downtime. Since this period is only two weeks, she’ll be suffering from bouts of uncontrolled rage for this entire adventure. Will it cost her or the party, like it did in Saelith’s tomb? I suppose we’ll see!
Recovering from her Madness was my primary intent for Maelen, so with a shorter time what will she do? I don’t think two weeks is enough time to unlock any insight or powers from her Bonebreaker mace, nor would she have the patience or focus to do so. So, let’s try a Carousing role of her own as a start. I roll 77, Secret Ruin, “You shoot rounds with a trio of retired explorers. One of them, Neddy Rook, offers to guide you to a secret ruin for 10% of any loot.” Oh HO! Look at that! I am immediately adding this to the Threads list and a possible direction to take the adventure and add Neddy to the Characters list. I’ll also subtract 50 silver pieces (2d4x10) for her carousing.
That result feels a bit light for a full Downtime, so I’ll also have her spend her time in bars gathering Rumors. Rumor Hunting involves a cost of 4d6 silver, and she rolls 16. Maelen then makes a Cha(Gather Information) roll, which for her is a 12 or better. She rolls a 9! The success means that, for her trouble, she earns 1d4 rumors: 3. Now, what topic was she exploring while carousing in bars and taverns? I’ll make a quick random table based on the Threads list: 1) What’s happening in the countryside post-Saelith being freed, 2) Vessa wanted by authorities, 3) the history of her mace or other items made from its mysterious metal, 4) Neddy Rook and his quest. The 1d4 roll is… Vessa wanted by the authorities. She’s looking after her friend, which is in character for Maelen and also makes sense since we established that Vessa is taking the fall for a fight Maelen started.
Now, what are the rumors? I don’t have a rumors table ready, so instead will rely on the amazing Tome of Adventure Design by Matt Finch (you may recall that I used another of his books, Tome of World Building, when first creating Calvenor). This book is absolutely stuffed with adventure hooks and ideas, and dozens and dozens of fun random tables. Let’s see what sort of rumors it might help be generate as potential future plot hooks:
First, let’s figure out what happened that fateful night. I’m going to roll on the “Patrons and Targets” table to see who it was that Vessa assaulted before the last adventure. This table is an impressive d1000! I roll 191, which is “Collector (books).” Great. It was the son of one of Oakton’s most successful book merchants. What motivates the kid? I roll percentile twice and get “Revenge upon a detective, investigator, one who asks too many questions.” Perfect. What was the mother (book merchant) doing that was being investigated? I roll d100 and get “Subversion, the villain is trying to mislead people into supporting her nefarious enterprises.” Yes, there are more subtables (I love this book!): What are these nefarious enterprises? “Using blackmail to force individuals into performing crimes or other evil acts.” Now I’ll go back to my own Threads and Character tables… What do these evil acts connect to? I roll “Saelith the Vanished, freed.” Oh my.
Alright, cool, let’s pull this all together: 1) A book merchant has been blackmailing officials in Oakton. 2) The blackmail was to gain access to the same forbidden tomes Alric will be attempting to research in Downtime. 3) However, the Inkbinders Lodge suspected something and hired someone from the Iron Thorn to investigate. 4) The book merchant sniffed out the investigation. 5) Her brash son decided to take some friends to deal with the investigator. 6) Maelen and Vessa were there when the attempted hit went down in an alleyway, and Vessa stabbed the son (though not fatally). Thus, the warrant on Vessa’s head.
Now let’s figure out what Maelen discovered. I know this is a little weird, but there are 6 sentences of summary in the previous paragraph, so I’ll roll 1d6 three times to determine what she learns. I roll 5, 1, 2. She learns:
- The kid Vessa stabbed—let’s give him a name: Joryn Vellorin—is desperate to not be seen as his “mother’s soft-handed shopboy” and has recently been trying to intimidate her business rivals. Maelen and Vessa inadvertently interrupted a shakedown. Maelen didn’t learn anything about the target of the shakedown.
- Why the shakedown, Maelen wanted to know? Joryn’s mother Sera is one of the most successful book merchants in town, and rumor is that she was blackmailing guild officials. Somehow the shakedown was part of her shady business dealings.
- What guild officials? Archivists in the Inkbinders Lodge. Maelen’s danger sense immediately pings… does this have anything to do with the “forbidden tomes” Alric is trying to access as well?
Whew… that’s a lot of new info to take in, but I’ve updated my Threads and Characters lists and am ready to go.
Vessa strode briskly along the docks, the shops giving way to workers tying up skiffs, with the broad Bay of Mists before them. Larger ships littered the bay, perhaps ten total at a quick glance. True to its name, fog shrouded the horizon, masking the low hills of the peninsula and the Bayren skyline. Why would anyone live in a city that never saw the sun? But the scene was beautiful, even if the enormity of the ocean frightened her.
The mercantile smells became brine and fish as they moved along the docks. Here, gulls clouded overhead, squawking and squabbling over food. Vessa tried to avoid the thickest areas of white bird droppings, but more of the docks looked splattered in paint than not. Rusk, for his part, followed ably and asked no more questions.
Two-thirds of the long walk down the docks they came to a set of worn stone steps descending into the bay. It was as if the steps were made for a giant, wide and each half as tall as Vessa. At the top of the stairs was a large statue of an otter, shielding its eyes with one paw and looking out protectively. Most striking, however, was the enormous iron chain that was bolted to the top step and tumbled down the staircase, disappearing into the dark water. The place was called the Chained Steps, a monument to the Harbormaster, god of sea trade, shipping, and safe harbor. Sailors and dockworkers ritualistically came here to touch the chain either before or after a voyage, and tales abounded of foolhardy captains from other nations ignoring the ritual and drowning shortly thereafter.
Today, no crew members crowded around the chain. Instead, two priests in dark blue robes with heavy iron chains around their necks tended the monument. One of them—a stocky, bearded man with a dour expression—seemed to be instructing a skinny girl of no more than fifteen years. The girl was on her hands and knees, sweating as she scrubbed a brush over the second step from the top. Neither of them paid any mind to Vessa and Rusk as they approached, nor when Maelen stepped out from behind the otter statue and waved them over.
“You’re late,” she said gruffly once they’d reached earshot.
“Sorry Mae,” Vessa said reflexively, but the warrior was eyeing the man at her shoulder.
“Who’s this, then?”
“Ah. This is Rusk Holloway,” Vessa stepped sideways so the two of them could face one another. She waved a hand. “He’s agreed to help us out this time. Rusk, this is Maelen Marrosen.”
Rusk nodded nonchalantly and Maelen scowled. “Help with what?” she asked.
Vessa shrugged. “Whatever mess Alric is dragging us into this time.”
Maelen grunted and pulled Vessa several steps away by the arm, grip firm. She leaned in close, her breath smelling of fish. “You trust him?”
Vessa glanced over to the man, who was leaning against the otter and looking out over the bay with half-lidded eyes. She quirked a grin. “He’s just hired muscle, and anyway owes me a favor. If he gets out of line, just cuff him like you do me.”
The warrior grunted, fingers straying to the black head of her mace. “Hrmph. Fine. Any trouble selling the lantern?”
She shook her head. “Nope. Easy. Sixty silver.”
Maelen blinked. “Oh, nice.” Then she squinted, frowning. “You haven’t spent it all already, have you?”
“What, me? No, I still have…” Vessa rubbed at her nose. “Well, most of it, anyway.”
“Dammit, lass…” Maelen began, but Vessa cut her off.
“How about you? Any luck on my warrant?”
Noise snagged her attention, and Vessa looked up to see a pack of sailors making their way to the Chained Steps. She and Maelen waited for the group to pass. As they did so, they laughed and seemed to take particular pleasure in taunting a young man among them, who Vessa guessed was new to their crew. They moved to the far end of the steps towards the immense chain.
“Yes, actually,” Maelen said, her eyes trained on the sailors. “Hasn’t been easy, though, and I had to drink half my weight in ale to loosen some lips.”
Vessa grinned. “Thank you for your sacrifice.”
A gust of wind sent the gray strand of hair into Maelen’s eyes, and she brushed it away irritably. “Anyway, the lad you poked is named Joryn Vellorin, son of a book merchant. Seems he was in that alleyway to shake down some rival of his mother’s business or something, and we interrupted it. The kid is furious and still talking about gutting you.”
Vessa scoffed. “He was such a prat. Let him try.”
Now it was Maelen’s turn to grin, but it was just a flicker and then her expression turned grave. “But Vess…” she looked over her shoulder to see if Rusk was listening, but the man seemed as disinterested in them as anything else on the docks. She dropped her voice anyway. “This merchant, the mother… she’s been blackmailing guild officials, I hear, throwing a lot of money around.”
“Guild officials?” Vessa frowned. “Which guild?”
“Inkbinders Lodge,” Maelen said the word reluctantly, and like it had a foul taste. “All I could find out was it was something about getting access to parts of the archives she shouldn’t have access to.”
“Forbidden archives…” Vessa said absently, fingers hovering near her nose before dropping away. Her stomach fluttered. “You think it’s the same books Alric has been looking for? About Orthuun or whatever?”
“Damned lad’s got me paranoid,” she spat. “But… yeah. Maybe. We’ll ask him. I don’t like it, though. Too many things crowding together.”
“I mean, Mae,” Vessa grinned, trying to lighten the mood. “It’s probably just a book dealer wanting expensive books to sell. Anyway, maybe I should pay this Joryn a visit. See if I can get him to drop the warrant.”
Her friend scoffed, shaking her head. “I’d just wait it out, lass. A couple of months and he’ll move on.” She squinted up at the sun overhead. “Speaking of which, it’s almost midday. Let’s go see the lad and whatever news he’s got to share.”
Indeed, it’s time for our final Downtime rolls, courtesy of Alric. All of Alric’s Downtime intentions center around research, some Standard (gaining access to the forbidden archives of the Inkbinders Lodge) and some Magical (figuring out the magical properties of the chalice and needle he picked up in the Starless Rift, plus continuing the explore his Grimoire, The Tome of Unlit Paths). With only two weeks of Downtime, he’s not likely to have space for all of these, so let’s prioritize and see what he can accomplish.
His first priority is to gain access to the forbidden tomes that will help explain who created the Starless Rift and Thornmere Hold, what happened the last time Orthuun rose up against the city, etc. I’m going to say that gaining access to the tomes is “Basic Standard Research,” and then researching those tomes is “Advanced Standard Research” that will likely bleed into the next Downtime. First, how much time will the first step take? I roll 1d6 days and get 3 days, which also costs him 15 silver. Next, he’ll try an Int(General Lore) check: He rolls an 8 under 17, which is a Great Success! He absolutely gains access to the information he wants, and I’ll even halve the time investment for the next step, which is the Advanced Research phase. This phase normally takes 1d4+2 weeks, and he rolls a 1! Halved, that’s 1.5 weeks (and a whopping 150 silver pieces), plus the 3 days of the first phase equals exactly two weeks. Lucky rolls, and now let’s see what he finds with another Int(Divine Lore) check: He succeeds with a 10, gaining most of the backstory he’s seeking (which I’ll reveal in narration).
Alric won’t, unfortunately, have time to do any Magical Research, but at least he gets his new spell from the scroll for free. He also has plenty of new juicy material that can lead to future adventures.
Speaking of which, these Downtime entries have taken more time than I expected, so we’ll get to plot threads next time. Suffice it to say, for our third adventure I’m going to try two new things: Staying in the city of Oakton for urban adventuring and weaving smaller quests together instead of one big mission. Should be fun!
Vessa signaled Rusk, who pushed himself from the stone otter and followed in their wake. They left as a great roar erupted from the pack of sailors, some collective joke or accomplishment they celebrated. The sound immediately triggered thoughts of a burning Vastren Hollow, of small packs of people screaming. She glanced over her shoulder. The group crowded around the new member, slapping his back and smiling. She shook her head, trying to banish the images of horror and desperation from her mind.
As they left the bay and entered the warehouse streets, eventually fishmonger carts gave way to stalls selling lamp oil, wax seals, reed pens, and cheap paper. Ledger clerks in robes of muted colors hustled between buildings, competing with horse carts carrying goods from one quarter to another. The streets were just wide enough for the carts, but narrow enough that Vessa scanned for cutpurses and thieves at every corner. The three of them must have looked like the criminals in the quarter, though, as crowds tended to part around Maelen’s grim face and Rusk’s nonchalant swagger.
On one curved street, the buildings momentarily parted, revealing Lake Miran. The body of water sat in the middle of the city, surrounded by a walking path and littered with small stone shrines. Couples sat upon benches, looking out over the water while children tossed bread to birds. The Argenoak’s trunk took up one whole length of the lake, but Vessa couldn’t see it from their brief glimpse. Instead, the Argenoak’s presence came from the twilight hues of the immense canopy overhead. Branches larger than most buildings stretched above them protectively, sunlight escaping only in glittering gems upon the cobblestones.
After the momentary view of open air, the street turned back to crowded structures and away from the lake. For the last third of their walk, the streets climbed gently upwards, the cobblestones turning older and the buildings taller. They entered the oldest part of Oakton, where guildhouses and civic buildings took center stage. Their footsteps echoed on streets less bustling than the docks or warehouse quarter, with fewer strong smells that threatened to overwhelm them.
The tavern Alric had chosen sat across from the Inkbinders Lodge, the tall and narrow building of pale stone that served as the guildhouse for scribes, clerks, historians, messengers, and the like. It was also, not coincidentally, the most sacred building of the Herald, god of news and history. Vessa glanced up, seeing tall slit windows stacked one above another, climbing skyward. Somewhere atop the Lodge was the famed belltower, rung at various times throughout the year. She had never, not once, thought of entering the Lodge. It was a place meant to preserve truth, or at least the truth city officials cared about. It radiated all the warmth of a fortress or prison. Vessa couldn’t imagine that Alric spent every day in that formal, dead place, looking at scrolls and books.
“Lass!” Maelen’s voice called out, breaking her reverie. She looked around and saw Maelen and Rusk flanking the doorway of the tavern across the street, like two bouncers. Her friend jerked her chin impatiently, and Vessa stepped through robed clerks to join them.
They entered into a narrow common room with a low ceiling, well lit by large windows that looked out at the Lodge. The wooden tables were all pale wood and scarred from use, crowded with people talking in low voices, with no music overlaying the general murmuring. Various framed documents and writs adorned the walls, along with a large chalkboard with “House Notices” in large script, with much smaller print below that Vessa couldn’t be bothered to read. A long bar stretched along one wall, and she noted that the waiters and waitresses were adorned in robes of bright blue, showing not an ounce of skin other than their faces and hands. Taken in total, it was by far the least interesting tavern Vessa had ever experienced, and there was no wonder why she’d never spent a night in the Quiet Margin before.
“He’s there, at the back,” Maelen grunted, and led them through the throngs of robed patrons, almost all of them with ink-stained clothes or fingers. Vessa and her two companions weren’t the only ones in leathers and with weapons hanging from their belts, but near enough that low conversations quieted as they passed.
Waiting for them at a table far enough back that it required a candle atop it was Alric, dressed in his gray scribe’s robes instead of his black traveling clothes. The intricate metal headpiece did not adorn his brow either. Indeed, the only recognizable items from their previous expeditions were his rune-carved staff and travel satchel. If Vessa hadn’t spent so much time with him, she likely wouldn’t have been able to pick him out from the general crowd here.
Yet she had spent time with him, hadn’t she? As his dark eyes met hers, her stomach fluttered. He smiled briefly, until he noticed Rusk at her side. Alric’s features flickered with confusion, then knitted into a frown. Vessa swallowed, trying to meet his gaze again, to exude an air of being nonplused. The mage didn’t look her way, though, and instead studied the burly mercenary carefully.
It was only then that Vessa realized bringing Rusk may have been a terrible mistake.
Next: Surprises [with game notes]
My Hero Brain 
Pingback: ToC: Level 3 – My Hero Brain
Pingback: ToC28: Haunted – My Hero Brain
Pingback: ToC28: Haunted [with game notes] – My Hero Brain
Pingback: ToC29: The Chained Steps – My Hero Brain