
“Your employer is not a good person, Hakau,” Kami said imperiously.
Emah inwardly rolled her eyes, since this was at least the tenth such comment since they’d left the Keep as a group. She looked to Maly for commiseration, but her friend was once again distracted, looking over her shoulder as if someone was following them. Emah tracked Maly’s eyes but saw nothing. The Stone Islander woman had been talking to herself of late, either yelling during combat or muttering to herself at odd moments. Indeed, at this moment Maly muttered what sounded like “Stay close” …Emah feared that her friend was losing her wits.
“So you keep saying, Kami,” the man sighed, then grinned wryly. He truly did have a strong, handsome face. And his broad shoulders and muscled arms spoke of a trained warrior. Emah enjoyed looking at him. Perhaps after this was all said and done she would initiate something. “But what does that mean you think of me?”
“You’re too honest to be a villain,” Kami scowled. “But you’re working for a snake.”
The City Watch sergeant had accompanied them out of Inspector Calenta’s presence with two of his guards, all the way back to the Golden Heron. The group of them had waited awkwardly outside during a light rainfall while Kami went inside to speak with the Heron’s proprietor, saying little while passerbys looked at them curiously. When Kami had finally emerged, the woman was unhappily grumbling beneath her wide-brimmed hat and had stayed that way both while paying Emah’s final fee and on their muddy walk away from the Rose Quarter. Speaking of which…
“Sergeant Mewa,” Emah asked, scrunching her brows. “Where are we going? This isn’t the way to the Keep.”
“No, it isn’t,” Mewa confirmed, sounding confused.
“But we were supposed to return there,” Emah stopped and crossed her arms, forcing the group to stutter to a halt on the street. The money from Kami would pay for several days of food and shelter, but they were still facing a profound lack of funds. “We were to sign our new contract.”
“You see?” Kami snorted, also crossing her arms. “Calenta’s a snake, Emah. This is all another trap.”
“What? What’s a trap?” Maly said, wide-eyed, pulling her attention away from… wherever it was she was looking and back to the group.
Hakau Mewa sighed and raised his hands placatingly. “Hold on, hold on. I didn’t know about the contract, but I’m sure Inspector Calenta will have it for you when we get back to the Keep. She asked me to accompany you to the Crafts Quarter.”
“Why?” Emah frowned, planting her feet wide. The rain had stopped, but heavy gray clouds still sat above them, beyond the Great Oak’s branches.
“The,” he started to say, and then winced and realized that people were flowing past them in both directions. He lowered his voice to an urgent whisper. “The rats. We think we know where they’re hiding.”
“And you’re just mentioning this now?” Emah arched an eyebrow.
“I didn’t know you didn’t know,” Sergeant Mewa hissed, exasperated. Emah grinned, enjoying his discombobulation. Truly, the man was pretty. “You thought you needed an escort to the Heron and back to the Keep? After what you did in the training room? Why?”
That snapped Emah’s lips shut. She assumed that their armed companions were meant to ensure that the trio of them signed their contracts, or perhaps that Kami didn’t flee. It never occurred to her that their mission to investigate the ratfolk within the city had already begun, or that Sergeant Mewa and his retinue were here to help them.
“Oh. Alright, fine,” Emah shrugged. “Lead on.” They all began walking again.
The Crafts Quarter, sometimes called The Coins, was where the diversity of Oakton’s people was on full display. Bright Kaleen fabric shops sat alongside Kaizukan fishmongers, Mescan leatherworkers, and carpenters from the Stone Isles. Each shop did its best to entice foot traffic to enter, which meant that the Crafts Quarter was a riot of color, smiling faces of varying nations, hawkers, and the ever-present street musicians of Oakton. Emah preferred university libraries or even outside the city walls to the bustling Coins. To her, Oakton was at its most vibrant here, but also its most overwhelming.
Thankfully, early in the evening on a rainy Starday, the area was much less populated. Shops were beginning to close, musicians to pack away their instruments. There were still people about, but the sparse crowds steadily thinned as shopkeepers and patrons alike found their way back to their families or surrounding taverns, avoiding the next rain showers.
Sergeant Mewa led them down a smaller cul-de-sac street. No one currently occupied the muddy road, and any shops there had already closed. At the end of the street, Mewa stopped at a rundown, square, three-story structure that looked like it hadn’t been occupied in years. Wall slats canted, leaving shadowed gaps. Its windows had been boarded and shuttered. Weeds grew untended, crowding both sides of the short staircase to the scarred front door. Since Emah only spent enough time in the Coins as necessary, she was fairly sure she’d never been to this street, much less this building.
“What a dump,” Maly commented. “Why are we here again?”
The sergeant looked up and down, ensuring they were alone. He kept his voice low. “The surrounding shop owners on this street have been complaining about huge rats here over the past two days, especially at night. Sounds of fighting and screaming too, also at night. We sent a patrolman out, and he looked through the boards and said kids were indoors and ran away from him.” Mewa looked at them each, meeting their eyes to impart the gravity of his next words. “Kids wearing fur cloaks, he said.”
“And you haven’t done anything?” Kami asked incredulously.
Sergeant Mewa scoffed, defensive. “We didn’t make the connection until today, with the…” he licked his lips. “Events at the jail. So we’re here now, with a force that can handle it. If that patrolman had entered the house, I assume we would never have heard from him again.”
“Alright,” Emah said, eyeing the decrepit structure. “What is the plan, then?”
“We enter,” Kami said, straightening the hat on her head. With long strides she walked straight towards the front door.
“Wait! Kami!” the sergeant complained. He hurried to catch up with her, the other two Watch guards in tow.
Maly looked at Emah and shrugged. Emah sighed. “Come on,” and turned to follow.
By the time they reached the front of the building, Kami and Sergeant Mewa were arguing in urgent whispers.
“You can’t just charge in!” he hissed.
“I can,” she spat. “The sooner we eliminate these ratfolk, the sooner I can get back to my life and away from the City Watch! Calenta can remove her damned collar.” That last word was delivered like poison.
“Kami, it’s not like… Hey!”
The woman pulled a board from the front door with no more effort than if she were pulling a slice of bread from a loaf. Then another, and each time tossing the wooden slat into the weeds. In only a few heartbeats, she had removed any planks that had been nailed across the doorway. Emah again noted the woman’s strength, realizing that she herself would have done the task in considerably more time and with considerably more effort.
Kami’s work had been brief, but loud. Sergeant Mewa’s handsome face shone with nervous sweat. His two City Watch companions hesitated at the threshold, gripping their spears and peering into the darkness.
“Let’s go,” Kami said, and walked in.
“By the dragon! She’s going to get us killed,” Mewa breathed.
Emah chuckled and drew her sword. “You clearly haven’t fought alongside her,” she grinned, and stepped into the shadows beyond the doorway.
She squinted and blinked, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the lack of light. Weak, early evening light slanted through boarded windows, dappling the room with gray slivers amidst the darkness. Gradually, as her eyes adapted, the room’s features became clearer. A layer of dust covered everything, motes drifting in the light above a floor covered in rugs of varying sizes and shapes. Beneath every window and occupying every wall were bookshelves half filled with scrolls, bound books, glass vials, carved wooden figures, masks, and all manner of curios. Two chairs, one wooden and one with a drape of cloth across it, were the only furniture. The place smelled musty and acrid, with some other sort of unpleasant tang.
“What was this place?” Maly whispered, having entered behind Emah. Sergeant Mewa and his companions came last, spears ready.
Mewa scanned the room. “This was Sami Suttar’s place,” he said in a low, quiet voice, eyes scanning the dim light. “He was a charlatan. Sold magic potions and scrolls to fools who believed such things still held power. The man died poor and without kin.”
“That’s sad,” Maly answered, picking up some sort of charm made of what looked like intertwined chicken feathers.
Something thumped upstairs, like a heavy footstep, and everyone froze.
Emah’s eyes scanned the room, looking for a staircase. She didn’t see anything immediately, so she padded quietly around the others and past half-empty bookshelves. There, around the bend, she saw Kami. The woman had taken off her hat and set it and her walking stick aside. In front of her was a staircase, climbing up. It seemed the floor of this square house was one continuous shop space, with a central stairwell.
She was just about to motion the others when her eyes tracked Kami’s. Halfway up the stairs lay the corpse of another rat-person. As in the jail, it wore dirty rags over its furred body. Its rat-like head pointed down, as if it had died falling down the stairs. One claw-tipped hand outstretched below its head, below which was a small, black stain of blood. The tang she smelled earlier, Emah realized, was the reek of unwashed fur and death.
Maly had followed and seen Emah freeze. Her friend gasped when she recognized the form of the fallen creature. Emah laid a finger across her lips to Mewa and his guards, a gesture to be quiet, then pointed to the body. Their eyes widened. A young woman with short hair, Esira, was one of the first City Watch members to stop them outside the jail. Emah thought the woman’s lip trembled as she shifted the grip on her spear.
“Follow us,” Emah whispered, and met Esira’s eyes. “Be ready.”
Esira nodded, her breath shallow. She swallowed audibly.
Above, something went thumpthump, like definitely like someone walking.
Kami disappeared up the staircase, wood creaking under her steps.
Emah swore softly to herself and hurried to follow.
Dead ratfolk, it turned out, littered the staircase. Small, furred bodies, twisted and crumpled, lay everywhere, perhaps a dozen in total. Though many lay in dried puddles of blood, she noted that whatever killed them had not been a slashing or piercing weapon. Their furry hides were mostly intact, the amount of blood modest. Instead, each body looked… twisted or crumpled in some way. It was if a child had, in a tantrum, thrown about its toys until they’d broken.
Emah paused briefly at the second floor and looked around. It looked like the shop owner’s living quarters, but no corpses lay here, only upon the stairs, the numbers increasing the higher the staircase went. Kami seemed to notice the same thing, for she continued climbing towards the topmost floor of the building, picking her way gracefully and carefully through the carnage. Emah followed, with Maly and the City Watch members behind her in an anxious, wary procession. In the cramped space, every breath and shuffled step seemed impossibly loud.
Up the stairs they went, to the third floor. There, at the top was a narrow landing, its edge ringed by the balusters and newel posts of a carved balustrade. Dead ratfolk lay sprawled across the landing, some clutching crude makeshift weapons like shards of glass or pointed sticks. The smell had risen to the top floor, it seemed, for Emah fought back bile at the eye-watering stench of corpses. Behind her, one of the Watch members gagged, though she didn’t turn to see which one.
The eastern wall of the landing held a steel door in a bronze frame. It was a sturdy-looking door, Emah thought, totally incongruous with the rest of the wooden structure. The barrier would have been difficult to overcome had it been locked. Now, however, it was scarred and battered and hung wide open.
Kami shouted a warning at what lay beyond.
What’s beyond!? It’s time to make our first Age of Wonders villain! To do so, I’ll use the same character creation process as I did to make heroes. Indeed, in Crusaders the only difference between a villain and a PC hero is that villains never receive Hero Points.
Origin: The nature of what’s upstairs is something I’ve already decided, so I’ll create a special Origin table, allowing for the concept but still giving me some random rolling to do. All of these fit my general idea:
- 01-25 Animated Armor
- 26-50 Clockwork Giant
- 51-75 Elemental (Earth/Metal)
- 76-00 Animated Figurine
And the roll is… 09 (or 90)! So that’s either Animated Armor or Figurine. I truly can’t decide, so will go with the original roll. This villain will be an animated suit of bronze armor.
Now you see why I started my character creation with Origin instead of the ICONS Origins Background Generator. The suit of armor has no gender or ethnicity, and its age is ancient. The “manner” table is interesting: I roll a 5, which means it’s moody & headstrong. Who does it value? 11, its personal hero, which is of course the late Sami Suttar. What does it value? I roll a 9, which means it values love. Okay, this thing’s motivations are clear and easy. It’s like a child who lost its father.
Powers: Back to my custom tables for Crusaders we go! I’m going to say this is a Rank 3 villain, meaning that it will have 4 Power rolls, which I’ll make on any of the tables except Super Skills (it’s an animated suit of armor, after all). I’ll use one of these rolls automatically for Armor, which subtracts 10 from all forms of damage except psychic damage. My remaining three rolls are:
Roll 1: 85 or 58, which means Super Strength, Shapechange, Telekinesis, Psychic Shield, Weather Control, or Force Field.
Roll 2: 28 or 82, which means Energy Blast, Super Strength, Psychic Blast, Telekinesis, Energy Manipulation, or Probability Warp.
Roll 3: 06 or 60, which means Armor, Special Attack, Aura of Fear, Psychic Shield, Energy Blast, or Force Field.
Oooohhh… lots of juicy options there. After playing around with configurations, I’ve decided on 1) Psychic Shield, which adds +5 to its Psyche score when defending against any attack, plus 10 points of protection from psychic damage. The shield does need to be activated, however. 2) Super Strength, which is the same power Kami has and provides a strength level of Physique + 20 for feats of strength, unarmed damage, and resistance to knockback. Finally, 3) Aura of Fear, which means that any lower-Ranked characters can’t attack the first round of combat. In addition, the power as written says that lower-Ranked characters can’t engage in melee combat without spending a Hero Point. That seems overpowered to me, so I’m going to say that all attack rolls against it are -10% / Rank lower (so -20% on attacks and defense for our PCs), and that minions and lieutenants can only do missile attacks.
Attributes: As a Rank 3 villain, it will get 14 Attribute points, which I’ll drop into its primary two attributes: 18 Physique, 16 Prowess, 10 Alertness, 10 Psyche. Its Vitality will be 54 (Physique x3). This thing is a tank, pure and simple.
Motivation: I won’t roll on this one. To fit the concept, its motivation is Follower (of course, its leader Suttar is dead, so it now does what it thinks he would want, which is guard his possessions).
Here is the final character sheet:

Will the PCs be able to defeat such a hardy opponent? And what other tricks do I have to make this combat difficult? Find out next time!
Next: Let’s Rumble!




