Nexus Guttersnipes

Interested Parties, Part 3
The finale of arc 1

The preparations were set. Gregor and Maxwell knew what had to be done. Sarin, in her instinctual and driven way, knew what had to be done as well- but had no understanding of plans. It was simple enough, but if anything went wrong all three of their lives would be forfeit.

The Plan as it was

Gregor, Maxwell, and Sarin would sneak in through boxes of chemical shipments that were to end up in the Mother’s Firewander stronghold. Using a map of the complex, they would destroy what they could of the laboratory, and in the process hopefully flush out the mother. Once she was out in the open, panicked, and confused, they would strike and hopefully take her down before she had a chance to do anything that might end in their untimely demise.

The Plan as it would be

For their gusto, the plan was not without severe flaws.

Firstly, they were walking right into the mouth of a beast—they would be placed at the whim of the guard on duty in the middle of a complex they had only rough maps of. While they knew there were approximately 40 people working in the warehouse-turned-fortress, they did not know where they were posted or what they did. They knew of three women who worked with the mother as enforcers, but had no idea what they did other than that. If everything went wrong, how would they escape?

Secondly, they had no means of communication once detached. How would they place the bombs? How would they detonate them? How would they make sure to catch the Mother? How would they let others know they were in trouble? They would all be running blind, and would have to pray on the hundred gods that everything went right.

Thirdly, they had no idea on what their explosives would do. Were they actually explosives? How much would they destroy? What would they do if one was a dud? If all of them were duds? How could they bring the building down otherwise?

Finally, how would they kill the mother? The princes of the earth are nothing to trifle with, and even Orin (Who was at great range, attacking from stealth, with the purest rage and conviction behind him) could not lay one low—so how would the three of them kill one, up close, and with no element of surprise at all? Would they reserve an explosive? Could they afford to?

The Plan as it went- Penetration

While Orin had died at the hands of Lovis DuPris, The Soot-Eyed Guardian had not. Like a spider in the crypts of Sijan, he effortlessly and stealthily flitted through the rafters and crawlspaces of the warehouse-turned-fortress, waiting to see what his former comrades would do. While not particularly concerned for their mortality, he would take the time to save them from The Mother- if only due to her necromantic capabilities. He reasoned with newly found insight that if she knew the ways of the dead, she could surely get him to his master—the master whose call still pulled on his soul.

Meanwhile the mortal trio stuffed themselves into acrid, unmarked boxes made of cheap pine and rusted nails. Fortune on their side, Gregor and Sarin ended up in the same room. Maxwell, however, did not. Instead he found himself a river boat heading downstream, carrying a variety of glasswares and herbs for the satrapies held by the realm. Maxwell was out of the mission for the short term, but fortunately left Gregor with the explosives.

Sarin and Gregor split the explosives, and went to scout the building.

The Plan as it Went- Execution

Having no real idea on what to do with the explosives, or any idea as to how effective they are, Sarin and Gregor find themselves at a thick canvas breezeway, set up presumably to keep as much light out as possible. Both Sarin and Gregor knew that the chemicals involved in the creation of Nelaya’s tears were extremely volatile but degraded quickly in light—their best bet would be catching the materials in the dark, and exploding or burning what they could. The duo found themselves in heated discussion over the best way to execute their plan—in the middle of the breezeway—which naturally lead to being encountered by guards. Sarin, in true warrior-goddess fashion, ran down the hall at the guards while Gregor ran the opposite way in an attempt to begin blowing shit up. Sarin used her spear to plant herself into the floor, swung around the spear, and threw one of the explosives directly at a guard, blowing apart the breezeway and melting faces. Landing solidly and dislodging her spear in one smooth motion, she ran towards Gregor.

Naturally, this is where what planning they did had long since hit the fan, and pure reaction took over.

Gregor ran headlong against his better wishes, narrowly jumped over the tripwire set to slice off the feet of the unwary, and went into the makeshift hallway dug underneath the warehouse. Various doors lined the hallway, and Gregor went to open one.

Haste, in many cases, can be good. It is unfortunate, then that it does not befit the accident-prone Gregor. An accident-prone Gregor who missed the fact that the door he was opening was a trap door, designed to slam people into the makeshift hallway wall. Which happened, but not quite as it should have. Gregor took the blow, being knocked back and startled (But otherwise fine) from the door. Jarred and out of his element, Gregor did what those running on instinct and adrenaline tend to do- the unthinkable.

Knowing well enough the layout of the upstairs, Gregor threw a bomb right at the ceiling of the hallway. The bomb smashed into where the middle of the laboratory should be, and he expected a mighty roar and shake from thunderous concussion and brilliant flame. At first, however, there was nothing. Discouraged, Gregor ran to through to the staircase at the other end of the hallway. Reaching the staircase, it was only then that the rumbling was audible.

Meanwhile, the Soot-Eyed guardian watched. And listened. And shook his head in the darkness. They were making a mockery of this with foolishness and lack of any real organization. The same inattentiveness and lack of direction that lead to his second breath. His grip tightened slightly, unconsciously, against the rafter he was perched on. By this point the fire had caught across the breezeway, fueled by the flammable fabric and acrid vapors contained by it. If any thing, their reckless abandon was certainly being noticed—he watched as about a dozen men rushed into the lab and began shouting. They were moving materials out, it appeared. If that was the case, certainly he could track the mother and catch her unawares—not that the flies hovering over a corpse had any chance against the vultures who wanted what was rightfully theirs—but still. He would let his former friends face their burden.

The Plan as it Went- Calamity

Sorsha was many things, and a liar she was not. Her wonderous exploding potions would bring down the building—she just wasn’t sure what sort of building they would be dealing with, so she gave them an assortment. At least, that’s what she told herself. She was pretty sure she accidentally placed a bottle of deodorant in with the bombs, but it didn’t matter.

One such bomb happened to be specifically for turning concrete, mortar, sand, and most weaker stone mixtures into clay. Fantastic for when you got bored in the Bastion while waiting to pick up an order. Or for when you were infiltrating a building with stone-paver flooring that had been dug out to create a storage area/hallway.

Imagine the scene, then, as a room brimming with emergency personnel, equipment, and product began to fall into the center in a massive, earth-swallowing-everything moment. Stone pavers melted away like butter in a hot pan, sliding down and mixing with the grime and sand of Nexus soil. A sinkhole formed, and in the moments that followed the terrifying reagents of Nelaya’s tears were exposed to fire that was normally used for distillation. Needless to say, a great many people died in that room, in those moments.

Sarin was privy to all of this as she attempted to catch up to Gregor. Hurdling herself over mortar-turned-clay and the strange sand-mud that was coming from the walls around her, Sarin evaded the horrors of the now-collapsing tunnel with grace and savage determination. She caught up to him as he stood silent, hearing the calamity unfold in the lab section of the warehouse.

Each of them had a bomb left. Neither of them knew how many guards were left, where the mother was, if the building was even stable, or if they were getting out alive. The Soot-Eyed Guardian decided to head for less uncertain grounds, and escaped the building unseen.

It was then that the duo made their first major mistake. They took the outer ring of the warehouse-fortress around, only to find themselves doubled back and at the room that held the crates they came in on. The crackle and whoosh of flame became audible, and it was certain then that getting out of the warehouse had to happen… And had to happen before things got more out of hand.

The Plan as it Went- Exit Strategy

More to come. Hopefully before Saturday gametime.

Hiatuses. Sad times.

For those of you who read and check back on occasion, we’ve been trying to meet for the past several weeks but have had issues each time. We’re still very much into the game, and it hasn’t stillbirthed on you. Give us some time, and we’ll get back to our regularly scheduled broadcast.

Interested Parties, Part 2

Unfortunately, the player of Sarin wasn’t able to make it this session. However, a great time was still had and hopefully for the next time we’re able to play everyone is afoot. This story arc is starting to come to a close, and the rising actions have become very interesting in my opinion.

Hunting Implies Potential Failure; He Went Killing

After the events of downtime four, Orin was charged with a furious zeal unlike anything he had previously experienced. He wanted vengeance. He wanted blood. And he knew just where to get it- from that bastard Dragon-Blood that thought he could get away with blinding the Kid in one eye. He walked tall, his features grim. The dawn was just breaking way into early morning, and the cool chill of ascending wood was causing dew to paint the buildings in a slight shimmer. The chill did little to slow him.

Gregor, meanwhile, found himself dejected. Previously he had been unable to find any of his comrades, and found himself in a very lonely lace. Freshly cleaned, he trod out of a 24-hour bath house, only to find himself being snatched at and spun towards the direction of the bastion district by a very motivated Orin. Elated, Gregor follows Orin like a puppy as Orin relates his plan for revenge- to hunt down the one who harmed the kid and ensure he no longer breathes.

Throughfares and alleys blended together as Orin marched wordless through the Nexus district. Grabbing a young thug who was attempting to court a woman, he called in his one and only favor to Spitjack, a major player in the gangs of the Nighthammer district—who likewise, had eyes all over the Nexus district and Sentinel Hill. Their job would be to delay whatever support came for the prince of the earth.

His senses sharp, he could smell the perfumed-and-polished stink of the one who called himself Lovis Dupri, the man who arranged for thugs to harass the kid. Orin noted the mark, and Gregor concealed himself in a nearby alley as Orin took to the rooftops of Bastion. Lovis would get no warning.

Tasting sweetness of the Bastion air around him, Orin aimed steadily upon Lovis, waiting for the right moment as the terrestrial looked over a variety of trinkets brought traditionally through all of Nexus during the handcart festival, which signified the beginning of this season’s guild caravans leaving the city. Lovis had found an excellent set of earrings, and could not wait to give them to his favorite courtesan.

That is, until Orin let loose a sapphire elm arrow that exploded the eye of Lovis Dupri as well as two other arrows that sank deep into his prey’s collarbone and effectively shattered the left portion of it. “For Nighthammer!”, he exclaimed as the dragon-blood roared.

Gregor’s joy of reconnection was quickly quenched in the blood of the dragon-blooded mark. Any sane man knew this was suicide- any sane man knew running was the safer option. This wasn’t Gregor’s style, charging in blindly. There needed to be a course of action. Planning. Prudence. Master Simon’s words rang true— these people will lead only to more pain. Gregor slipped away, and hurried along to Maxwell’s to inform them.

The Battle In Bastion

Meanwhile, Orin was by no means home free. Crippled but enraged, Lovis summoned forth a bolt of searing fire to destroy the gnat that defied the will of the dragons. Orin dove backwards in an attempt to fall over the crest of the roof and dodge the bolt completely; and while he was not hit where the dragon-blooded wanted to hit, the bolt still caught brave Orin in the knee, bursting with a searing heat he had never known before. This did not dissuade Orin as he rained down more vengeance while jumping into the wide street below, which was filled with noble shops and various handcart-wielding merchants, looking to ply their wares.

Had this have been any other man, any other time, Orin surely would have succeeded. But Lovis was a prince of the earth, and had the very essence of fire on his side. Every arrow Orin now shot was vaporized in the sheer heat Lovis was emanating- indeed, it appeared as though he turned into the purest fire for a second. This magic could not hold, Orin thought. Perhaps if he kept going—

But Lovis gave him no time to think. He pursued Orin, ready to decimate the mortal that sought to took on a god. Orin looked frantically, and saw his opening just as Lovis jumped down to the street below to meet him. A china shop, no doubt with imports from the southwest! Surely if Orin did not survive, he could at least make the bastard who harmed his ward pay for it, and pay for it dearly. Orin fired another barrage as he jumped, staggered due to the still-searing pain in his knee, and crashed into the window of the china shop. Lovis flared into elemental brilliance as the arrows sought their home in his flesh, and were vaporized accordingly.

The mortal, that day, could be said to have meant business. But no matter, Lovis knew the mortal was trapped. He would smoke him out by setting the building on fire with his very rage. And so he did. Orin made himself upright and watched in a mixture of grim determination and mild horror as the tiles on the roof began to flare, melt, and seep into the building- coating priceless china in black, goopy, blindingly hot drops of pitch.

Orin launched himself into the back door, tumbling through and into the alley below. He saw a means of egress- a sewer opening that lead who-knows-where. He made a run for it, and Lovis smiled. None could escape the power of the dragons, and he roared as such as he lobbed a white-hot ball of magma at Orin’s general location. While the burst of lava did not directly hit Orin, it showered out from its point of contact, coating the area around him- as well as himself. Orin screamed in fury and pain as he jumped into the sewer. The sewer shuddered and collapsed behind him, leaving him alone in a fetid pool. He was dying, one way or the other. Darkness rushed in upon him, and he wondered briefly if this was the design of the dragons leading him back to a lower incarnation. While the flames were doused, his wounds screamed for tending and salvation.

And out there, somewhere in the dark, a honey-sweet feminine voice offered just that. “Give up your name”, it said. Orin quipped back that he had no need for it. “Cut your ties from this world, from fate”. Orin responded that in his time, neither the world nor fate has done a damn thing for him. The third question echoed in his mind—“Serve me, without question or fail”.

“So long as I get my revenge”, he thought. The darkness retreated as quickly as it had surrounded him, and he found himself made whole. Strong. He knew what must be done in that moment, and was at once on his way.

A burden of soul and spark, sinewous and sanguine

Gregor sprinted into Maxwell’s home, only to find him preparing diligently for the trial he was to have that night. Breathlessly he described the events at hand to Maxwell, and Maxwell gave pause- if only because Gregor had gotten there before one of the many couriers that dropped off information on fairly steady basis. Maxwell had little to offer in the way of consolation or direction, and this troubled Gregor further- his Sifu’s words rang true once more. Maxwell and Gregor knew that without Orin alive, The Kid would need to be taken care of- Maxwell knowing out of connection to the streets from his days as a guttersnipe, and Gregor knowing that at the very least, the child could be useful for other purposes. So they traveled to the Nighthammer district with Maxwell’s secretary, Felicity, in tow.

When they arrived upon the scene of Orin’s house, Gregor knocked. No one ever knocked at Orin’s. So when Rat opened the door, his blade was drawn and immediately at the throat of Gregor (Who, as we know, is the opener of doors). After explaining why they were here, and the kid acknowledging them, Rat hesitantly let them in.

Upon hearing The Kid’s story, Maxwell and Gregor recanted what they knew of Orin’s condition; The Kid, understandably, broke into silent and furious tears- his recently removed eye secreting a mixture of tears and blood. This continued even as Orin, amazingly, walked in and downstairs without even a hint of acknowledgement to his former comrades.

But, this was not Orin. Orin was dead. The Soot-Eyed Guardian had come to ensure The Kid’s survival, and to prepare for the long nights of cold blood, bitter vengeance, and violent action that were ahead. And so, the Soot-Eyed Guardian took The Kid’s savings, placed them in front of the Kid, informed the lot of them of what must be done, and when questioned by Gregor as to how he was still alive, Gregor was informed that the Soot-Eyed guardian had nothing to say to him. And as swiftly as he entered, he left. The Kid was the first to note that the man who entered and exited did not seem to be Orin—the blood-tears streaming down his face turned black in his presence, and the Kid fainted shortly after Soot’s departure.

Playing at tragedians

The kid was taken swiftly to a solid and discreet doctor, who did what he could for the child and thought the black substance to be a sign of poison that was working its way out of his system. After treating the eye socket with herbs and ensuring the wound was sealing properly, he released the Kid back into the care of Rat and the party. They took him to the one place he could be observed easily—Maxwell’s home.

The Kid was put to rest, and Maxwell resumed his preparations. All was calm—until a loud, man-sized scream/gasp/choke came from an upstairs room. Maxwell knew immediately who it was—Gordo, his trusted sidekick and well-worked muscle.

Gordo was found dead, his face frozen into a look of sheer terror. The hole in his chest was where his heart should be, and the space it occupied laid hollow, barren. His body was surprisingly cool, despite the scream only moments ago and the flood of now-congealing blood that had covered the floor. Left neatly on the nightstand next to Gordo’s bed, there was a note. Gregor picked it up while Maxwell despaired at his friends death. It read:

You need to learn whom you can trust. This worm had been selling you down the river for years, and you hadn’t even the sight to notice. You have been done a favor, and he is but one of many.

The script was fine, spider-like. For Gregor, this was the final proof. Simon had been right all this time. Getting close to people meant giving them the power to hurt you, and then trusting that they wouldn’t. He dropped the note and left the house for his flat. Gregor would have no more of this.

Maxwell knew of no one that wrote like this. Who would kill Gordo? How was it a favor? Could any of his family truly have turned? How could he not have noticed? Maxwell decided he needed to cope in the only way he knew how—

To drink.

Meanwhile, Gregor returned to his flat, and found his sifu waiting for him, nonchalant as ever. He acknowledged Simon’s wisdom and suggested that he resume his training immediately. Simon, however, had other ideas. To Gregor’s utter amazement, his sifu asked him to go back, and finish what was started with that damnable old woman and her noodle shop. He tried to argue with Simon on this point, pointing out the apparent hypocrisy: that there was no point to doing anything for the sake of others if it only brought you pain in the end. At this point, Simon made his intent clear. Gregor had been involved in this things beginning, and Simon would not continue training him until he brought about its ultimate end. To this, Gregor agreed; his Sifu returned his beloved switchglaive, Gregor’s strongest link to what seemed like a past life, and he left for Maxwell’s house in the morning.

Within the three hours he had before his trial, Maxwell had become dangerously intoxicated. Snifters and glasses were put aside for bottles and barrels, and Gregor merely took it as another, irrefutable sign.

Maxwell procured a handcart, and was brought to the trial.

The Trial

The trial in itself wasn’t much to speak of. Maxwell arrived stone-drunk and alone, while Lovis arrived furious and mostly broken. They both offered up their opening statements, but both were in too much pain to truly be effective. Maxwell put forward a telling blow in his opening with revealing nformation about the manufactory under the Crescent Moon- a fact that Lovis could not refute, and did not have a clear enough mind to dance around. Lovis called for a recess in which they could better prepare their defenses, and at the mercy of the tribunal they were given two days to ready themselves.

The night passed slowly for Maxwell, who drank himself steadily deeper into stupor. He mulled on the events to date, the people he had lost, and what the future held. He needed to destroy those who made Nelaya’s tears. The Kid was a target, and nothing was sacred to them. They weren’t even proper businessmen- Nexus would be better off with them dead. Maxwell fell asleep on his books of notes and planning. As the night rolled on, one of the twins made a stop, dropping off some long waited-for information.


The morning came, and Gregor returned… driven. Gregor and Maxwell came up with a plan between nettle tea and reading the overnight report. They would take their fight to the major manufactory the twins had discovered in the Firewander district, preferably destroying it and the ringleader in one fell swoop. They’d need a man on the inside (Which they had), luck (Which they… Had?), and explosives. Lots of explosives.

Gregor, having seen what he knew to possibly be the finest craftsman in Nexus, asked The Kid for some advice- and it just so happened he knew an alchemist’s apprentice who was crazy enough to not ask questions, and skilled enough to get the job done.

Maxwell and Gregor left for the alchemist’s shop. Just as they arrived there was what sounded like a small explosion and smoke started pouring out of the windows. Giving each other a wary look, they knocked on the door and was greeted by a small, soot faced girl. Much to Maxwell’s chagrin, creation is a smaller world than he had expected. The same apprentice the Kid mentioned turned out to be none other than Sorsha, a member of his “family”. Sorsha was young, naive, usually filthy and unkempt, and possessed a brilliant mind that was, most of the time, eccentric.

After procuring her a solid lunch of charred meats best left undisclosed and what appeared to be a slop of sauce and swamp rice (Her favorite meal), Maxwell and Gregor were able to talk her into crafting explosives to do the job of destroying a building.

The party headed back to Maxwells, and made preparations to raid the manufactory.

And not too far off, The Soot-Eyed Guardian prepared for his hunt.

Interested Parties, part 1

The session was cut a little short due to my need to step back and consider the genuine can of worms that was opened this session. Regardless, everyone had a great time and I’m hoping that this upcoming weekend turns out to be equally exciting.

A gentle reminder

The session started four days after the party encountered the war ghost at the Crescent moon, with the party arriving at Maxwell’s townhome. Most were treading investigative water in Maxwell’s den, when Gregor heard it. Despite it being the beginning of the Handcart Festival, there was a sound of feet moving in unison; unmistakably, certainly a group of soldiers in step with eachother. Gregor looked out into the crowd and saw not one, but two groups of soldiers, each coming from a separate end of the street. Gregor did what any sensible scaliwag would do given circumstances- he got the fuck out, closing the door gently behind him and hiding not too far away so he could see what was about to unfold.

Sarin, Gordo, and Orin were left with their tea when Orin peered out into the street from the den windows.

Across the well-tended lawn and through the low, wrought-iron fence, there was a congregation of martial force typically reserved for bandits and ancestor cults. Between the two groups stood their respective leaders, enveloped in a shouting match. Sarin and Gordo had similar, sensible reactions and attempted to get out of the situation as quickly as possible. Sarin hauled ass to the back door of the modest estate while Gordo went with his gut feeling and ran down into the basement. Orin, himself, did the unthinkable and walked out to meet the guards.

Sarin was met with a hard-packed earthen wall, where only hours ago there was air. Scrambling madly like a wounded animal, she took the least likely exit she could think of, for fear of being watched by whoever magick’ed up the wall. One soot-filled chimney ascent later, she bounded away and hid herself amongst the steeples and rooftops of the Sentinel Hill district.

After his unfortunate slamming into the basement of the Crescent Moon, Maxwell decided he needed to step up his game. Taking advice from one of his spy contacts who moonlighted as a police-force freelancer, Maxwell had what was effectively a grown-up playground built in his cellar. Half-filled wine barrels acted as both hurdles and refreshment, quickly built monkey bars attached to support beams, and the like were strewn about randomly. Maxwell had just planted his face into the hard, cold rock pavers of his basement when Gordo hurdled down the stairs, and informed him that there were guards outside and it looked like it would be a grim situation. Maxwell, too, decided to face the situation head on. He wiped the sweat from his brow, dusted himself off, and headed to the front door.

A clash of two troops

The two troops, seemingly, represented two factions. One seemed to be led by a clean cut, almost polished young man who beamed slightly from within- his fingertips drew a light glow, and his teeth shone like sunlit crystal. He was adorned in the finery of a merchant, wearing vestiments of his station within the guild. The other was lead by a rough-around-the-edges, seemingly violent dragon blood with unkempt black hair and skin tinged the color of perhaps wood ash, or clay. His eyes were deep and piercing, like the innards of a volcano. He, too, was dressed in finery but certainly did not look the part of a merchant. The scene began with the two arguing as to whom should be in custody of our heroes, presumably for a variety of transgressions.

Orin stepped boldly into the street, much to the delight of the dragon-blooded man leading one troop. “One of the worms rears his head!”, he exclaimed. Orin, being strangely calm about the whole mess, made meaningless conversation with the two parties, in an attempt to buy time for Maxwell and Sarin to escape.

Upon being asked just what they were being charged on, the Dragon Blooded proprietor had one of his aides advance and proclaim the charges laid against the party as a whole. It turned out in conversation that the dragon-blood owned the Crescent Moon, and that much of his information was gathered from Jermont, the until now mostly harmless rival of Maxwell.

  • One count of disturbing the dead during ceremonies.
  • One count of disrupting river traffic.
  • The suspected murder of Jarvis Nellens.
  • Several counts of aiding and abetting a known trade disruption.
  • Multiple counts of breaking and entering
  • Grand Theft of a class III interactive material.
  • The death of Corvus Pelham, licensed guard.
  • The destruction of the Crescent Moon.
  • The death of Zabbis Abadammah, guild functionary.
  • The death of three cooks.

Maxwell stepped into the street, his intent being to diffuse the situation. Recognizing the stature of the glowing, polished man he immediately broke into guild cant, asking what was going on. The polished man noted that he would be fine for now, and that the party should come with him. Playing to the wishes of the polished man, Maxwell appeared distraught—and attempted to manipulate the owner of the Crescent Moon into leaving them with the polished man. The dragon-blood restrained himself from brutalizing Maxwell, but ultimately conceded that he would leave guild affairs to the guild- provided he was made aware and involved in every step. Maxwell and Orin both saw themselves being taken to a holding facility for criminals who broke the rules of Nexus but were, for one reason or another, required to be in town (Or alive) for a time longer.

Sarin, seeing the crowd of armed guards amble back towards the Nexus district, came out of hiding and followed them to the holding building—Gregor trailed behind, uncertain of what was to come next, and who could potentially be watching them. It was tall and made of stone, windows barred and entrances sturdily set- the only difference between its exterior and that of the famed Cinnabar harlot spires was a decided lack of paint or signage.

Gregor made himself known to Sarin after Maxwell and Orin were locked away; together they began to case the building as a potential way to get their comrades out.

Nexus-Style Grilling

After a swift processessing, Maxwell and Orin were sent to a holding cell where they spent what felt like only a few moments before a duo of guild assayers took them to an interrogation room. Maxwell knew the score, and admitted nothing. But as time wore on, Orin cracked- especially at mention of the death of the young guard who was possessed by the war ghost. After some amount of confession, Orin snapped back- citing the supernatural foe and his staunch desire to protect the Nighthammer district against any intruders- corporeal or otherwise. The assayers, moved by his statements, stuck to more traditional questioning and didn’t dig too deeply. Maxwell cited civilities that allowed him to be turned over to his superior for both guidance and potential bail and thus was led out of the compound. Only Orin remained in the cool stone building, contained.

Finding no real easy way into the compound, Gregor comes to the conclusion that in order to make things right, he needs to contact his Sifu, Simon. Sarin comes to the idea that the spirits can find Simon, and therefore sets to finding Muglam.

After rounding up several rats and performing the necessary rituals, Muglam appears and after an extensive search, turns up nothing. Frustrated that Muglam could not find someone who has walked on the roads in Nexus or came across its many canals, Sarin thinks perhaps a ghost may be able to aid them—so after giving Muglam minor payment for his failure, Gregor and Sarin head to a cemetary to hunt down a ghost willing to trade services for sacrifice.

Simon’s Summons

At the cemetary, Sarin was on the trail of a ghost’s recent passing-through when Gregor noticed for the briefest of instants a word in the trees and ceremonial statues. “Home”, it said- it was as though the moonlight itself delivered the word. Gregor immediately recognized the subtle yet unmistakable signs of his Sifu. Sarin, however, was unmoved. She saw the spirits of misfortune that had made themselves known around Gregor, swirling about lazily and bloated like stale smoke in a back-alley Gateway parlor. Despite her attempts to dissuade Gregor, he pressed onward- to the flat he called home.

Opening the door to his apartment in the standard “shift, twist, and pull the door off of its hinges” method Gregor is so accustomed to, Sarin caught her first glimpse of his meager and simple abode. It was there, in the cool shadow of night and simplicity that Gregor caught the next hint.

Gregor lived across the street from a fantastic little store called Malone’s dry goods and general supplies. They’ve been in business for 73 years, starting with Ezekiel Malone. Ezekiel was a crotchety, ill-mannered man who despite his lack of social grace knew how to bargain, how to barter, and how to break competition. Needless to say, he rose to some small station in the Guild, and as his dying wish he had a fantastic alchemical marvel constructed- a large, orange-glowing sign that proudly proclaimed “Malone’s”- so that even in the dead of night, if you needed a barrel of flour, by the dragons you could get it.

The problem with this fantastic signage, of course, was that it was AMAZINGLY ANNOYING to the surrounding neighborhood. Which made rent cheap, and since neighbors didn’t sit outside too much, it made coming and going unnoticed relatively easy. The other problem with Malone’s sign is that occasionally the alchemical reagent powering the sign had to be refilled- especially on the M, which was larger than the other letters and understandably so. About once every three years the M needed resupplying- and when it got close to the end of that time, the letters started to erratically fade in and out. It turned out that on this very night, as a matter of timed perfection, Gregor caught the M in this very sign flicker and sputter out- indicating it needed a refilling. Alone’s, it said as a beacon in the dark. Gregor knew then what needed to happen.

Gregor told Sarin excuses to get her out of his apartment, and into Malone’s. Hopefully just enough time to converse with Simon.

A whisper in the drapery made Simon present. Gregor pleaded his case to his master, and in turn his master told him his price- the very switchklaive Gregor had received when he began training with the cult he joined as a young adult. This was not some simple request, such as spying, blackmailing, or torture. This was serious. Did Gregor give away his weapon, ignoring the past and braving the future? Or did he use what he had with him now to get Orin out of trouble?

Gregor, heavy with intent, left the switchklaive to Simon. Simon was disappointed as he acknowledged the bargain would be met, and was gone just as Sarin entered the dim flat.


Maxwell, as it turned out, had it easy- for now at least. He spoke briefly with his supervisor and the shining man, and was left to go free provided he showed back up in time to explain himself to the council overseeing the case. That didn’t leave Maxwell any less settled about Jermont, or the fact that he was sold up the river by his otherwise-mildly irritating rival.

Orin slept briefly in his holding cell, his back firm against the cool stone- only to be awakened by the cell door opening, and for no readily apparent reason, he was led outward. A few scrawls here from the man who let him out, a few knowing nods from guards there, and seemingly as easily as he was placed into the fire he was pulled out.

Orin, no doubt, had questions—all of which were fairly easily answered by the man asking “Shouldn’t you be at work?”, and walked off- but not before bumping into Orin, and placing a signet ring into a satchel of his. The ring, steel and deeply engraved, was representative of his employer- but who exactly was that? It was something Orin pondered as he went to pick up his assignment.

And so the night ended. Our heroes are currently free, but for how long?

Ghostly combat at the Crescent Moon: Or, how I learned that fire is bad.

This session ran the whole time, we had everyone there, and it turned out really good. So let’s get a rundown on what happened.

The onset

The session began with Maxwell speaking with a fellow guild functionary, attempting to resolve some intra-office conflict between superiors through various agreements- nothing too major for the guild. Suddenly, however, fate intervenes and the war ghost Maxwell’s newest acquaintances are on the hunt for manifests in the body of the functionary. Maxwell does the sensible thing and bolts for it as Gregor, Orin, and Sarin charge up the service stairs from the basement of the massive tea house and restaurant.

The tea house is constructed primarily of imported Haltan timbers that have been lacquered, strong and straight. brightly lit by hanging oil lamps, and even though it is around 3pm they are still going- giving the smell of paraffin in between the savories put out by the chefs below. The dumbwaiter makes its way slowly up the building, so as to accommodate the people on the third floor having more important discussions. The second floor is more a large run of railing and loft space than an actual second floor- allowing for people to look down from 15 feet up onto the restaurant below.

Opening shots

Here’s an outline. I really need to confer with players to ensure this seems right. I should have wrote this weeks ago.

1.)Group closes, 2.) Orin shoots (Stunt, through oil lamps, starts small fire),3.) Sarin attacks and is parried, Ghost attacks Sarin and is parried, Gregor tumbles haphazardly toward and around the ghost suckerpunch-switchklaives into the ghost and rips it apart (Ghost ejection), 4.) Maxwell runs up to the second floor to break the dumbwaiter system, 5.) Orin aims and shoots again, ripping a hole in the war ghost, 6.) Gregor attacks but catches armor instead of ghost, 7.) Sarin pins the motherfucking ghost to the ground, Chunbara-style, 8.) Ghost takes the opportunity to possess Sarin, 9.) Sarin flails about at Gregor, scooping flesh out with lamprey-fingers, 10.) Maxwell trips the dumbwaiter and forces the rails to break which flings the dumbwaiter to approximately where the ghost is—Maxwell rides it down and catches Sarin-ghost square in the jaw, but fails to get off the dumbwaiter and smashes into the basement, 11.) Gregor trades blows with the Sarin-ghost, 12.) Maxwell clambers up and blinds the Sarin-Ghost with a classic booze to the face manuver, 13.) Gregor punches Sarin-ghost in the back of the head, knocking her the fuck out (Ghost ejected) 14.) Orin shoots the ghost center-of-mass, blowing it apart.

The Aftermath

The Crescent Moon could have dealt with a small fire in the building, but when the dumbwaiter crashed into one of the cooking apparati all hell broke loose. Flames consumed the underside of the timbers, and spread rapidly across the lacquered floor of the crescent moon. While Orin in a fit of compassion tended to saving the building (Rousing people and organizing water teams), the rest of the party made a hasty retreat with an unconscious Sarin in tow.

Several hours and flare-ups from cooking fuel later, and the Crescent Moon laid mostly gutted- while the supports were mostly intact, the first floor, basement, and some of the second floor were entirely ruined. The sub-basement lair of the Nelaya’s Tears manufactory began collapsing after the first cooking fuel explosion- as much evidence as was possible to gather was rounded up while tending to the fires.

The party ended the session with being rounded up at Maxwell’s- Sarin was just waking up from getting knocked the fuck out by Gregor, Maxwell was drinking himself under the table in a combination of celebration and guild, Gregor just coming back from having his wound tended to by a doctor who didn’t ask questions and took silver, and Orin being the stone-cold-killer that he has shaped up to be.

Evil Otto, Glowing Lips, and Nelaya's tears

Despite missing a player, we ran a full session. Given the holidays, though, this may be the case until after the new year.

The session started with the party meeting up at Maxwell’s after Orin and Gregor slept from their respective all-nighters. Maxwell, being saddled with an unfortunate amount of work that required him instead of his family, had to take leave for a few days- leaving Sarin, Gregor, and Orin to the messy business of hunting down a ghost.

Their plan was twofold. Orin and Sarin would begin their investigations while Gregor saw to procuring a sufficient quantity of tea leaves known to allow the living to interact (See, hear, and touch) with dematerialized ghosts. Both groups, for the most part, met with success.

Gregor’s Task

Gregor, in true Gregor fashion, opened doors. Through contacts made from his courier days, he ultimately found a major trader in the tea and quickly devised a plan to steal away with the ghost flower tea. Striking at the break of dawn, just before guard details were to switch, Gregor (Through trickery, suitable and directly applied intimidation, and flat-out sucker punching his targets) made his way past the unwary, unprofessional, and under-prepared guards and to the trade ledger kept in the building. Scanning through it, he found his target (A recent/large shipment of ghost flower tea from Sijan, due to be sold to several merchants in Sijan-town) and procured it. A simple job, brilliantly executed, with very little in the way of evidence.

Sarin and Orin’s Investigation

Sarin and Orin ran into some difficulties that ultimately were rewarding. Sarin, after hunting down and sacrificing a hundred rats to (the previously summoned and bargained with during Sarin’s downtime 2) Muglam. After conversing with cajoling the lesser mud spirit, Muglam agreed to show the pair where the fake Agnes-spirit was found. Muglam lead the duo to an otherwise-mundane, small warehouse. The premises were dimly lit, and watched over by a single guard- who was observed tripping over a box and knocking himself unconscious by the pair.

Preying upon the opportunity, Orin and Sarin searched the warehouse, finding relatively disturbing facts. Firstly, the walls were coated with the same greyish, oily substance Sarin had previously determined was necromantic in nature. Secondly, none of it had seeped out because the walls were packed to prevent it. Thirdly, under a crate was found covering a strangely-placed root cellar which the two decided to explore.

Luck, as it stood, was against the pair—if only for the moment.

Attempting to sneak down the rickety wooden stairs, Orin lead the way… Only to fall ass over teakettle down the stairs, and smashing into a table in the root cellar that just so happened to be covered with a variety of apparatus filled with noxious chemicals. Obviously, Orin was neither amused nor immune and the resulting chemical concoction that ran into his nose threw him entirely off balance.

While Orin was keeled over and inducing himself to vomit, Sarin found the remains of a now-soaked and partially dissolved work diary, as well as another tear. The “tears”, as it turned out, were actually a drug that, supposedly, was cheaper and more effective than qat at acting as a tranquilizer for slaves. In the diary, they were described as Nelaya’s tears and were made from the hun and po of human souls!

Orin, regaining his composure, interrogated the sole guard to no avail- the poor young man had taken the job to feed his family, the work was light, and the pay was good. The boy’s critical error, after being thrown out of the warehouse, was forgetting his helmet.

The boy came back in sheepishly, announcing his presence. After being given his helmet back by a now-frustrated Orin, the boy tripped again. Sarin, ready to kill the poor boy for being such an annoyance, found her reason when the war ghost that she had encountered twice before had reared its head, possessed the poor boy, and transformed him into a terrible beast!

After a quick spat between the ghost and the duo (Leaving Sarin with a nasty wound across her chest as a result of the war ghost using his lamprey-mouthed fingers to scoop away her flesh), the ghost beat a hasty retreat- leaving an unconscious and wounded young man behind. Sarin attempted, after much prodding from Sarin, to tend the boys wounds but to no avail. They left the corpse of the poor guard behind as Orin made his way home (Feeling fully the effects of whatever it was he imbibed) and Sarin stayed overnight to watch the warehouse.

Orin was wracked with terrible nightmares, the concentrated and evil fluids working their way through his system. When he finally dragged himself out of bed the next day, the Kid had left him an infusion of herbs to help calm his body.

Ghost Flower Tea: Side Effects are Generally Mild(?)

After returning from their nightly expedition, the party returned to Mawxwell’s only to find Gregor brewing pot after pot of Ghost Flower Tea. It turns out that in order to experience the full effects of ghost flower tea, several pots must be consumed- not only to ensure resistance to the natural sleep-inducing quality it has, but to infuse them with the essence required to see, touch, and hear dematerialized ghosts.

After about 15 pots each on behalf of Gregor and Orin, the duo fell asleep despite their best efforts. Sarin, having little else to do while waiting for them to wake up, staked out the warehouse they had encountered the ghost at only to find no one was giving the warehouse even a second glance.

A curious side-effect of the ghost flower tea made itself known on the pair; both of them awoke a few shades paler, and with faintly glowing, blue-ish lips.

The Rundown

The party had figured out what was causing the taint (vile necromantic chemicals used in the process of creating Nelaya’s Tears), and where tainted boxes were mostly going (The Crescent Moon restaurant). Wasting no time, they headed off to investigate the large, popular, and largely popular restaurant in the Nexus district.

After eating a quick meal at the restaurant, the party found their their way into the basement area of the restaurant. They found various storage rooms, the kitchen proper, a service entrance… And a door that seemingly didn’t belong in one of the storage rooms. Gregor, never wasting a chance to ply his skills, opened the door with specialized expertise. The door revealed a rough-hewn stone staircase down and away from the restaurant. The party pressed on.

At the end of their stair-filled descent, they came to a sort of large, partially-finished root cellar about thirty feet underground. The room they first entered into seemed as much a living space as it was a storage room. After Gregor encountered (And opened) another door, the party was treated to what was really down here- a manufactory for Nelaya’s Tears!

Struck in awe of the scene, Gregor immediately began to scout for traps and the like—only to hit a tripwire and send a boulder hurtling from the ceiling in his general direction. Orin, with a flick of the wrist and a very flashy spin, launched Gregor out of the way and took the brunt of the swinging boulder so expertly that it didn’t even scratch his breastplate.

It was about this time the war ghost made a second appearance. After attempting (And failing) to possess Sarin, it engaged in combat proper with the party. No major blows were exchanged, but enough damage was done to the ghost to force it to retreat- leaving Orin with an opportunity to fire a parting shot. The ghost, not entirely aware of the effects of Sapphire Elm, ripped apart its corpus as it jumped through the ceiling of the root cellar.

The session ended with that action. The party is currently in pursuit of a wounded, enraged war ghost- who knows what tricks it might have up its sleeve?

A suspended greeting

Due to player absences, there was only a short session to be had.

The session began with Maxwell, Sarin, and Gregor meeting up at Maxwell’s townhouse to discuss potential issues with returning to Devito. Sarin gets filled in briefly on the situation with Devito, but is not made aware of his more sordid dealings. Sarin, then, fills the group in on her dealings with the spirits in the past few days- and how her vision quest, after seeing the spirit of Na’T’Chali, had given her much frustration to both her and a few of the spirits she had encountered on the way. The group resolves to hold off on Blackmailing Devito, but hold the information close to them in case their contract is reneged on.

Much to their delight, Devito promptly and happily gave them a writ to take to his warehouse in the Nexus district. There they attempted to engage in conversation with the overseer only to discover none of them spoke his tongue. Regardless, upon being handed the writ he gave them their reward- enough of the dried, cured Sapphire Elm wood to create several weapons for hunting down (And ultimately destroying) the ghost that possessed Agnes. Gordo (One of Maxwell’s many henchmen) and Sarin bring the lumber back; wherein the party notices that while the strong and steady Gordo is tired, Sarin (Who is understandably lesser in stature) hasn’t even broken a sweat.

As with all events where people get what they want, they ultimately don’t know exactly what to do with it. Such was the case with the Sapphire Elm wood- they had no one readily available to shape, harden, and prepare the wood such that it didn’t shatter into a thousand pieces upon accidentally hitting something not ghostly. Maxwell, being the quick sort, immediately came forward with a crafter from memory who dealt with similar materials and could potentially lead them the right way. Resolved and ready, the party heads towards the crafter’s townhouse.

Fate, however, intervenes.

The Kid, presumably running from guards, runs smack dab into the party while they are waiting for a carriage to take them across town. Gregor, not missing a beat, grabs the youth by the arm and proceeds to escape the scene in typical Gregor fashion (Rapidly unlocking a door, entering it, locking it rapidly, and exiting out a different door or window) while Maxwell created a distracting scene to keep the guards distracted.

The party ends up back at Maxwell’s- Sarin and Maxwell come back to see Gregor teaching The Kid a few lockpicking tricks just in case. The Kid is coaxed into explaining why he was running from guards (He stole an earring right off of one of them as a dare), and he was found to be nervously rubbing on a finely carved mammoth statue- which was revealed to be of his own make. After asking, and promising not to tell Orin who the crafter was, The Kid agrees to render the Sapphire Elm into usable weaponry- the problem, of course, is one of resources. The Kid needs additional materials, and time. Using considerable business acumen, street savvy, methods of manipulation, determination, and perhaps just plain luck, Maxwell effectively bought a townhome worth of materials for a bushel of swamp rice. And so, The Kid set to work with quality materials and a proper workspace.

After a long night of working and talking with a strangely attentive Gregor, The Kid emerged from the Maxwell’s cellar with a spear, two knives, two sets of wood-and-leather punching gloves, a half-dozen target arrows, and a club. While a good portion of the wood has been used, there could be perhaps enough to reinforce a buff jacket, or act as a breastplate with proper time and care taken.

The players ended the session having their weapons crafted and a huge amount of leads to follow up on. Sarin’s discovered-yet-undiscussed crystalized tear from Agnes, Orin’s detective work giving him a restaurant by the name of “Crescent Moon” in the Nexus district that a large amount of the produce from the warehouses go to as well as theories on where to look for whatever the corrupting agent is, and strange twinges abound from the party in general on mention of “The Haircut” from several shady businessmen.

Where will our party go from here?

Give head, get wood

Maxwell Ordd contacts Orin and Gregor concerning a source of the wood which can affect the immaterial, but is unable to find Sarin. The three meet up to go to the proprietor’s store, where they meet a young lady and Devito, the owner. Maxwell flirts with the young lady, and does all of the effective negotiation with Devito. Unfortunately, Devito quotes a price far outside the group’s pay grade, but offers an alternative method of payment, the murder and public display of the body of Jarvis Nellens- a Patrician who sells slaves and drugs to and from Great Forks.

Upon investigating Devito and the Patrician the party discovers that Devito contracts out hits, and that the murder of Jarvis may not be personal. They also discover that the young lady fears for her life, thinking that Devito might kill her for knowing too much. Orin agrees to hide her, and convinces the rest of the group to find some way to blackmail Devito into leaving her alone, after they complete the hit.

In the meantime, Orin has multiple confrontations with the Kid, over the Kid’s precocious nature.

The Hit

The plan is fairly simple. Maxwell meets with Jarvis for drinks, gets shitfaced and belligerent and gets dragged out by the guards. While the guards are distracted, Orin puts an arrow into Jarvis through a window, and Gregor pops in, grabs the body and leaves a note so that no one thinks anything is amiss. The note will state that Jarvis is off to arrange for a cake for a party the following day, and will have his signature (acquired by Gregor earlier on a fake delivery). Later, at the party, the Patrician’s body will reappear in some appropriately grotesque fashion.

All does not go to plan. Maxwell manages to meet with Jarvis, and while he actually gets shitfaced and belligerent, instead of acting, he manages to play his part well anyway and gets thrown out. Orin drops an arrow straight through the Patrician’s trachea and into his spine. The Patrician drops without a sound, and barely a speck of blood. However, when Gregor tries to hoist the body out the window, he trips and accidentally manages to tear the arrow through the Patrician’s jugular, fountaining blood everywhere. Upon hearing the guards return, and without time to get the tangle of limbs and gore out the window, Gregor cuts through what’s left of the Patrician’s neck and bails with his head- losing an eye on one of the fence spikes in the process.

After a brief, leech ridden bath in the east canal, Gregor makes it back to Maxwell’s and the two of them try to decide what to do with the head. Orin checks on the girl he’s hiding and then goes home. Shenanigans ensue involving the head. The next day, as the group discusses how to publicly display the head so that they complete the contract without getting caught, they discover from Terry “Slink” Orrd that the Patrician’s party has not been canceled, as they had thought. Frustrated by the rest of the group’s dithering, Orin grabs the head, walks over to the Patrician’s house, and hurls it through a window into the midst of the party- wherein it lands auspiciously in the mouth of a roast hunting cat. There is an uproar, but before anyone can determine what happened, Gregor and Orin quickly disappear into the night.

First game


The pregame begins with Agnes Demurrin found dead by a local street urchin who was concerned that she had not shown up to her stall that morning. There were no signs of struggle, and it appeared that she simply died in her sleep.

Upon Orin hearing about her death in the early afternoon, he finds Scoff and Rat on the scene, generally being nasty and making remarks unbecoming of guards of any sort. Scoff gets pushed down a flight of stairs by Orin after trying to steal from Agnes’ body; Scoff smolders with anger at being caught, but does not retaliate for fear of attack by SpitJack’s gangers who are keeping obvious watch over her apartment. Orin contacts SpitJack, and takes on some of the duties of funerary preparation- most notably, taking on the task of securing a shaman or immaculate to ensure her spirit rests peacefully.

Sarin awakes to the sound of bells from one of three such chapels in the Nighthammer district, and decides on meeting up with Na’T’Chali (Agnes Demurrin) for some food and conversation. When she arrives, she finds a boy tending to Agnes’ food stall who informs her of Agnes’ death and that both Orin and SpitJack are tending to the matters surrounding her funeral. Sarin comes into contact with Orin, and through persuasion is given a chance to examine the body of Agnes herself.

Almost immediately Sarin senses foul necromancy has taken place, and that there is a distinguishable taint to it that is easily noted by one with knowledge of the occult. Orin and Sarin investigate around the district, and find tainted food in a warehouse with the seal of a guild functionary on the crates.

Maxwell and Gregor hear about Agnes’ death in a similar fashion- upon coming for some noodles on the same day, they hear from the boy tending the stall that she has passed- however, they hear about it for entirely different reasons. Maxwell gets a runaround, but manipulates the information out of the youth and eventually meets up with SpitJack, who gives up further information on who is handling what. Gregor, strangely enough, received the information readily and without a fight at all; the boy seemed to know him, while Gregor seemed cool and distant.

Maxwell takes a brief amount of time off from work as a minor guild functionary to drown himself in drink and prepare for the funeral. During a drunken stupor, Agnes visits him in-dream, and tells him that he will be needed to find the one who did this to her. Given his intoxication, he judges it as a hallucination.

Gregor takes time off from his current job as a courrier, and feels the weight of detachment on his shoulders as he wonders why yet another person he grew fond of died.

The Funeral

The day of the funeral came, and our characters all met at a chapel ran officially as an immaculate temple, but is more like a place for people to go when they feel guilty. Sarin gives a eulogy- and while she confounds the crowd with her exclamations of Na’T’Chali and ruminations on spirits, her performance is shockingly sincere and is considered to be quite sufficient. Sarin also places a ward upon the body of Agnes to ensure no living creature will harm her body for the seasons to come. The small procession then filters into the streets, taking the now-closed casket to a waiting barge and from there her final resting place.

The walk, although short, does not go entirely to plan. Orin hears what can only be described as faint scratching from inside the casket- and since he is one of the pall bearers, he stops and (To the surprise of many) states the casket needs to be opened. Maxwell, SpitJack, and several other crowd members interject and just before an argument proper begins, Orin withdraws his statement— but not his intent. As the crowd winds down and enters a lull, Gregor hears the same light, almost pleading noises coming from the casket. Gregor whispers to Orin that he hears it as well as the procession stops at the dock.

The pall bearers place the casket on the boat, and all but Orin step off. Maxwell gets on the barge with Gordo, determined to get to the bottom of Orin’s supposed madness. Gregor moves onto the boat, Orin calls for Sarin, and SpitJack holds off the curious-yet-demanding crowd with his gangers while the party pushes off of land.

The party is greeted by a possessed Agnes, which is noted by a bewildered and enraged Sarin. After failing to persuade the party into thinking she simply has amnesia, she attacks—starting with Sarin. Her wild lunge, deftly deflected by Sarin’s spear, leaves her open for shots from Orin. Two well placed arrows pierce and bind her shoulder joints, leaving the war ghost little choice but to abandon the husk after cursing them and swearing their eventual demise. The party rescues the body from a fate as chum in the Nighthammer pool, and after noting the disappearance of the captain as well as deckhands of the barge save the barge from crashing into a dock. After everything settles down, the party gets the corpse of Agnes to a cemetary outside of Nexus, where she is (Finally!) laid to rest.

The party resolves to investigate what really killed Agnes, find out who did it, slay the ghost that possessed her body, and win back some peace of mind. Sarin speaks of rare wood that can be crafted into weapons that can harm ghosts, and Maxwell recalls a man from the guild directory that trades such things. Gregor offers to help in any way possible, while Orin wonders for a moment why he has not seen his ward this day. Thus, the session ends with two days of downtime (Denoted by downtime 1).


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