|Galoopius Maximus||Businessman and Collector, Native of Belgorash||M 67|
|Dreadmanifold||Earl of Swamp Bottom, Exiled from Kratanak||M 196|
|Richard Manchester||Duke of Plantinack||M 48|
|Candor Bowles||Duke of Mittelmarch||M 42|
|Charlotte Nigglebottom||Foreman of the Larkin Mine||F 63|
|Algernon Barton||A Bard and Healer||M 37|
A new session, 18-APR-14, Julian by Skype, Kevan, Kirsten, and Kevan at 62 Dalton Rd. Game date is 9th February 2479. There will be a new moon on 14th February. Jack, Wicklow, Martha, and Hocus are traveling to Piedmouth to meet Loose Lips. Once aboard, they will settle their accounts. Global Mediation Inc. owes Galoopius Maximus $520k (5,200 gp) for 52% share of the Larkin Mine. The company must also reimburse the four adventurers the $200k (2,000 gp) they spent on hotels, food, and equipment in the past five months.
It is a dark and stormy night in the middle of winter. Rain pours from the sky. Lightening flashes and thunder rumbles. The ground is cold, and in places the rain freezes on the road, and upon leather straps and capes. It is an hour after sunset, and absolutely dark, and cold and windy outside, and our four traveling adventurers are sitting in front of the fire in the spacious common room of the Three Compasses Inn on the road to Piedmouth. They are warming their hands with mugs of mulled cider. Their horses are in the stable. Their packs and vacuum thruster apparatus are upstairs in two rooms overlooking the inn's courtyard. Their weapons are leaning on their bench. They still have their armor on. They are wet, but getting warm, so they have begun to steam.
A bard plays a mandolin and sings bawdy songs. A dozen patrons are in a fine mood, drinking mulled wine, eating beef stew, and singing along with the choruses. Every few minutes, someone else will come in and join the crowd. The adventurers are prepared to share the fire, but nobody comes too close to them, although everyone is polite.
The door to the inn slams open. A black orc woman steps through the opening and leans upon the frame. She attempts to stand up straight, but cannot. She is well over two meters tall. She wears a sheepskin jerkin and breeches, but they are too small for her. Over these she wears a cape that fits her well, made of a sturdy green material. On her head she wears a wool hat, pulled down over her ears. Her tusks are covered with blood, and blood drips from her mouth.
The room falls silent. A blast of cold, wet air fills rushes among the tables and benches. "Close the door!" one man calls, who has his back to the door. A woman screams. A man cries out, "Orc!" Another man draws his sword and backs towards the wall.
The black orc woman sways. "I seek sanctuary," she says. She speaks Latin. She casts her eyes about the room. They settle upon the four armored adventurers by the fire. She staggers forward and collapses, face down, on the floor. There is an arrow protruding from her back.
The landlord closes the door and bars it. Wicklow inspects the woman. She has suffered a blow to the face. The arrow is embedded a few centimeters into her body, but does no appear to have pierced her lungs. Her hat comes off and her head is bald. She has no eyebrows. Her tusks are white with small gold caps. She has diamond earrings, a heavy gold necklace, and a ring with a huge ruby.
The bard kneels beside Wicklow. He is well-groomed. His clothes are clean and well-cared for. He has a slight hunchback, and he walks with a limp. He sets his mandolin on the floor. "I have some skill as a healer," he says. A minute later, he pulls the arrow from the woman's back. She convulses and screams. Her scream is so loud and so heart-wrenching that the patrons of the inn cry out in alarm to hear it. Her breath comes in short gasps. The bard puts the arrow on the table.
The woman grabs Wicklow's wrist. "Who are you?"
"I am Wicklow, and this is..."
As soon as she hears his name, she faints, laying her head on the floor.
There is a banging at the door. Someone calls the innkeeper by name and he opens the door. Two men and a woman come in, demanding to know why the door is barred on such a night. Seeing the black orc woman and the fearful crowd of people, they fall silent.
Wicklow examines the arrow. I has a heavy lead-filled head with no barbs. Such arrows are designed to penetrate armor. Whether they work or not, he cannot say. But it is just as well that it had no barb.
The patrons, the staff, and the four adventurers discuss what is to be done. The bard presses a freshly-boiled bandage against the wound in the woman's back. Many proposals are aired, from throwing the wounded woman out the door to putting her in a bed upstairs and getting on with the evening's revelry. A consensus emerges: the woman is being pursued. The pursuers are likely to track her to the inn, and they are likely to be armed and dangerous.
There is a banging at the door. The innkeeper opens the door. A man stands there, pointing into the courtyard. "He has my father!" There is a long, hair-raising wolf-howl from outside. Wicklow looks out the door. A black orc sits astride the neck of a giant wolf. A sapien man is draped across the wolf's neck, struggling. The black orc strikes him on the head and he is still. The black orc raises a bow and arrow.
"Princess!" he calls in Latin. "I know you're in there. If you don't come out in one minute, everyone inside the inn will die."
The black orc draws his bow. Wicklow closes the door. An arrow thuds into the two-inch thick oak and its head protrudes from the inside. The head is similar to the one pulled from the woman, but larger. The company inside demand to know what is outside. Another howl is heard through the door, of the giant wolf, and then it is joined by several others.
After a brief explanation to the company, and a short discussion among the adventurers, Hocus moves to the door. Jack, Martha, and the bard lift the princess onto a table and carry the table to a corner. Hocus opens the door with Wicklow behind him. His intention is to parlay with the hunters. But there is noone to be seen outside, except for a sapien man lying unconscious on the ice in the center of the courtyard. The lanterns over the door and the coutyard entrance swing in the wind.
Hocus closes the door. The last man to enter says, "Did you see my father? What's become of him?"
"I think he's lying on the ground in the middle of the courtyard."
"I'm going to get him."
"Stanley," the innkeeper says, "It's a trap."
"I'll get him," Jack says. Wicklow opens the door. Jack rushes out. Hocus stands nearby. Jack grabs Stanley's father. An arrow flies from the darkness on the far side of the road, over Jack, between Wicklow and Hocus across the common room, and thuds into the far wall, twenty meters from the door. The company moves away from the arrow. Martha moves towards it. Jack pulls the unconscious man through the door. Hocus lets off a Grand Flash on the road. Wicklow closes the door and bars it.
A voice comes from the arrow, which has a bridge ring holder in its shaft. It is the black orc. "Don't approach this arrow, or you will suffer for it."
Martha draws her sword and advances. The arrow emits a hiss, and gray matter appears around it. Martha slices through the conjured material and cuts the bridge in half. The spell is stopped. Conjured sponge floats to the ceiling. There are shrieks from some of the patrons, and a few prayers also.
The inkeeper directs his staff to bar all doors to the inn, and all windows in all rooms. Most of the company move from the common room into the stoor room behind, but some remain in the common room. Some draw small swords or axes. The bard stands over the wounded woman.
Hocus is peering out the hatch in the door. The lantern over the door shatters and goes out, hit by an arrow. The lantern at the courtyard entrance shatters next. "They are coming," Hocus says. He flicks a luminous stone through the hatch. It lands in the center of the courtyard. Four armed and armored orcs are rushing across the courtyard. Several more are already pressed against the walls of the inn. Hocus casts Lightening Ball, a process that will take twenty seconds. Wicklow advances with Jack to the window behind the drinks bar, intending to open it. But the shutters and the glass shatter and are torn apart by two axes wielded with inhuman strength and vigor. The window next to the kitchen suffers the same treatment. Jack and Wicklow fire at the orcs outside. Martha shoots through the other window. Wicklow and Jack have fired three shots, and Martha two, when the orcs back away from the windows.
The black orc hunter steps into the entrance of the courtyard, his bow strung, and fires an arrow. Wicklow and Jack fire back, to good effect, but they do not ruin the hunter's aim. His arrow flies through the window and strikes the wall beneath the stairs. Wicklow rushes tow it and cuts it with his sword before it can create more than a cubic meter of conjured sponge.
"Move back from the windows!" Hocus says. He shoves a bridge ring through the hatch. The lightening ball detonates outside with a deafening crack and a blinding flash.
"That will slow them down," Wicklow says.
The mullions are all that remain in the window frames. Martha looks out her window. Thunder rolls across the sky. Rain hammers the courtyard. The orcs push themselves away from the walls and rush forward with their axes. None of them appear to be hurt. None of them are hesitating. They attack the mullions of the window frames. Once the mullions are gone, the window apertures will be wide enough for an orc to leap through. Martha backs away from the window, stows her bow, and draws her sword.