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Writer's pictureJames Finger

MKT005: It's Time to Relax (Pt 2 - Dem Pesky Guards)

Updated: Aug 8, 2022

10th-12th of Eleasis (Highsun) – Summer 1486

Location: Nightstone


The next morning at dawn Cockseepage snuck out to the Stables and peeked inside. Willard, the ex-town guard identified by Kella as spreading discontent, was half-heartedly repairing the damage from the Cloud Giant attack and occasionally yelling at Grin, a young boy with a touch of Tiefling about him. When the boy ran off out the back door, she made her move. Employing her new ability to mimic those she has interacted with, Seeps loudly impersonated Kella while standing outside the Stable doors, expressing "Kella's" desire not only to reinstate Willard as a town guard but to personally apologise for the oversight and position him as her private defender and consort. She reverted to her own voice to agree to the task of finding Willard, waited a moment, and then wandered casually into the barn.


“Hey, are you Willard? I have a message for you from the new Lady of Nightstone.” A red-faced Willard stopped pretending to sweep. “You can tell that blonde Zhent bitch to shove…” Seeps held up a hand in warning. “Be careful, they have ears everywhere!” she hissed in a low whisper, quietly dashing up beside him. “I’m very worried about you, I don’t think you’ll make it back from this meeting, is there anywhere you can go?” she urgently pleaded in his ear while placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I am from Daggerford” he explained, “Damn Zhents run the town there too, it's why I came here for the Nandars, they were fine Lords. The trail home is dangerous alone, and I have no coin for a horse. I'd need some company.” Seepage nodded in approval. They arranged to meet at nightfall outside the town. Willard gave Seeps all his coin to ‘buy supplies’ for the journey. He would swim the moat to avoid suspicion and they would travel together to Daggerford.



As the moon rose Seepage stode across the temporary plank drawbridge and waited patiently in the shrubbery just off the road. It wasn’t long until a shadow crept down the embankment near the Keep bridge and clumsily swam across the dark water. She offered Willard a hand up the muddy verge. They began along the road back towards the Triboar Trail, Seeps falling a few steps behind so she could make her move. As she pulled her dagger from her belt and raised it high, Willard chose that moment to turn to ask a question and instinctively he grabbed at her wrist with both hands. Seeps twisted, drew her second dagger in her off hand, circled around behind him and plunged the blade under the ribcage in his back. Willard collapsed to the ground gurgling red bubbles. While singing a happy little song about sewing, Seeps expertly removed Willard’s face and stored it in her pack, complete with his balding pate. She then inexpertly began to dig a shallow grave, got bored halfway through, rolled the faceless corpse of Willard in and covered him in a few rocks before heading back into town very pleased with herself.


The next morning while Pinko was preparing to go foraging for components to make some healing potions, Cockseepage bumped into him in the tavern common room at breakfast and managed to convince him that she needed some really strong acid if he knew where to find some. After some deep thinking while gathering herbs in the nearby wood, Pinks decided while he didn’t really want to be complicit in whatever the hell the Warlock was planning, that he was a good friend and would help her out. Heading back North to Dripping Caves he snuck in the side entrance and collected some of the dregs of the congealing Black Pudding that still remained on the cavern floor. Seeps was very appreciative of the delivery later that afternoon, and Pinks would spend the next few days hiding with Destiny in the Apothecary making healing potions so he would have culpable deniability for anything that happened next…


While all this was going on Smacky had been left to his own devices, which was never a terribly bright thing to do as he got bored very easily. He wandered over to the stables to see if they could get any horses for the journey ahead, already tiring of the little town and wanting to return to the wild. There he found Grin, the young tiefling lad who sadly informed him there were no horses available. Grin’s mother was Destiny the Apothecary, and he already knew the Half-Orc as “Magic Poop Guy”, which amused him muchly. In a savage game of wits, 10-year-old Grin next convinced Smacky not only to buy an old Donkey, Clarence, for ten times its value, but to also spend the day shovelling shit for him too as part of the ‘bargain’. As Smacky scooped manure into a cart, Grin told him of a ghost haunting the Tomb of the Nandars that he had seen in the graveyard one night and that if Smacky was really brave, he’d go check it out.



On a mission, Seepage watched first Pinko head out to the woods chasing her acid then Smacky go to the Stables. With the coast clear, she donned the face of Willard and used her glamour abilities to take on his likeness and voice and walked into the town square. A zealous half-elven ex-guardswoman called Krutenis was standing on a crude stage made from a few boxes and proclaiming to all who’d listen her obvious distrust of and disgust at the new Nightstone management. In her hand she waved a piece of black obsidian, a fragment of the stolen Nightstone. Three Zhent guards watched on sternly while a small group of villagers stood around listening to the sermon. As “Willard” approached she was in the middle of a lament for her dear friend Hyral, Priestess of Tyr, whose mutilated body was found in the crater that formally held the Nightstone and whose blood now covered the fragment of the lost town icon she held aloft. She recognised and pointed at Willard as he approached. “You! Brother Willard! You too were a Nander Guard, now stripped of all honour! Isn’t it time these brigands leave and return the town to the rightful heirs?!” Willard-Seeps reminded her it was the Cloud Giants and Goblins who destroyed the town and "uh-hem" likely killed Hyral and dumped her in a hole (without a face) and that the Zhents actually rode to the town’s rescue. Krutenis was taken aback by this unexpected lack of support and they engaged in a parlay of grievances, all of which Cockseepage was able to successfully retort that set the onlookers murmuring in agreeance. Her frustration increasing by the minute, Krutenis finally snapped. "Fine! You shovel shit for these black-hearts stable boy! I’m out of here. My brother in Rassaalanter might be a useless coward, but at least he is not a faithless swine.” She spat at the feet of Zhents who remained unmoved and tossed the shard of obsidian covered in Hyral’s blood at Seepage's feet.


The Blood-stained Nightstone Fragment

Picking up her soap-box which seemed to contain her earthly possessions, she left via the main gates. Cockseepage-Willard chuckled at her back as she went, scooped up the obsidian shard, sniffed it, and smiled as she stowed it away safely. She spent the rest of the morning scouting the ruined buildings, stealing what she could that the goblins had missed, and then headed back to the bar where she grossed Smacky out by dropping the glamour and removing the Willard mask in front him while he ate lunch, before settling in next to a huge fellow at the bar.



Though usually keen for a drink, that afternoon Smacky wanted to see if Grin’s report of ghosts was true. So leaving Seeps and the large man she seemed to be happily drinking with at the bar, he headed to the graveyard next to the temple. Waiting patiently for dark as the mist slowly rose, he was nearly falling asleep from boredom when a chill air suddenly revived him and put his senses on alert. The moon was now high and a ghostly spectre was circling the tomb of Lord Nandar, who was killed by Ardeep elves a few years prior for hunting in their woods. Smacky watched the ghost descend into the crypt, but as he entered, tearing off the gate in the process, he was greeted only by cold stone and a sarcophagus with the dead Lord’s image carved on the lid. Itching for a fight, Smacks yelled as many racist profanities as he could come up with into the unresponsive crypt air to no effect. He pushed off the stone lid to reveal the mummified remains of Lord Nander, and discovered he was holding a beautiful Warhammer in his death grip with golden roses embossed on the side of its head. Try as he might, even the strength of his Orcen heritage could not force the corpse to release the weapon. Frustrated, Smacks attempted urinating on the coffin and defecating on the face of the noble remains within yet still the spectre would not show itself again. Raging angry, he pulled out his own Warhammer and brought it down with all his might on Nandar’s skull. The metal weapon exploded on contact, spreading ferrous shrapnel and orc shit into the walls of the tomb and knocking the barbarian prone. When he recovered, ears still ringing, Smacky saw the ring finger of the Lord was raised daintily in the air. Fishing in his pocket, he pulled out the ring stolen from the dead hand of Lady Nandar a few days prior and slipped it on the extended digit. Instantly the grip on the golden hammer relaxed and Smacky held aloft his prize, “Bluntrosethorn” a magic Warhammer particularly deadly to Elves and Fey.


"Bluntrosethorn (+1 Warhammer & +1d6 vs Elves and Fey)

An all too bright sun beat down on Cockseepage who awoke in a sty. She was literally covered in pig poop from head to toe with a massive pink sow chewing on one of her boots. She had no recollection of how she got there but did recognise the refreshingly familiar feeling of being incredibly hung-over. She patted her pockets. All of her possessions were there except her gold, which was probably to be expected. This would not do, she thought, but first, she needed a bath.


The huge man at the bar had not seemed to move when Smacky approached him that morning looking for Seeps. Morak the barkeeper intercepted him before he reached the stools. “Master Smacky a word!” His voice dropped to a whisper. The gentleman at the bar is Conanble. He was previously a guard. The Zhent’s retained him, but then he got fired for punching his new boss in the mouth. He and Miss Seepage were together for many hours yesterday evening, then suddenly she was gone. He hasn’t paid his tab for days… any chance you could urgh, intervene?” The dwarf looked up at him hopefully. Smacky just smiled, nodded, and patted him on the head before approaching the brute nursing his breakfast ale. “Oi mate, youz seen me friend? Youz were drinking with ‘er last nights” Smacky bluntly accused the man. “The Tiefling?!” grumbled Conanble, “Can’t hold her drink. Passed out after only ten ales, I dumped her in the piggery where she belongs.” Eyes flashing red, Smacky grabbed the back of his head and slammed it into the bar. Conanble spun around with a mug in each hand and crashed the tankards into the Half-orcs face covering him with warm beer. Smacks retaliated by grabbing both his ears and landing such a vicious “Daggerford Kiss” to the brute’s face that Morak physically winced while watching on polishing the clean mugs.



It was at this moment a somewhat cleaner Cockseepage entered, being freshly scrubbed in a cattle trough. Seeing Conanble splayed out on the floor awoke hazy recollections of the previous night. Smacky smiled like an idiot standing over him, just happy to see his friend back unharmed. The semi-conscious ex-guard then chundered all over the barbarian's boots and from the rafters above a ginger tressym, a cat with wings, descended and started licking it up. Seeps wandered over and first relieved the prone man of his coin pouch, settled the debt with a grateful Morak, lifted Conanble onto the new stone bar and then stabbed him in the ballsack with her dagger. This brought the man sharply back into the realm of consciousness. Smacky choked on his fresh Ale while Morak decided now was an excellent time to go check the ovens. Removing the now rotting face of Willard from her pack, Seeps delicately placed it over Conanbles own face and her work done, retired upstairs to nurse her throbbing head. Not knowing what else to do, Smacky dragged the horrified man outside and dumped him in the moat. It didn’t take any further convincing for Conanble to make the enlightened decision that a change of scenery might do him good. He did not return.


That night, Pinko laden with freshly made Potions of Healing, huddled around the Inn's hearth the trio were reunited for the first time in days and unexpectedly greeted by both Kella and Xoltin. They were mightily impressed by how the ex-guards were no longer a problem, and the new Lord & Lady of Nightstone rewarded the party well for their service. "Should you wish to progress further in the Family, I think you'd be best served to reach further afield my friends" Xoltin explained. He noted there was little else needed in town for now, but if they would consider travelling north to Goldenfields. The Zhentarim have an interest in the lucrative farming settlement currently run by the Emerald Enclave and their agent Shalvus there could use some skilled hands.

Overhearing the conversation and noticing the pub's resident ginger tressym had taken a keen liking to Smacky’s lap where it currently snoozed and enjoyed head scratchies from the surprisingly gentle half-orc, Morak also impressed upon them a favour. “Mr Fluffywings seems to like you there friend Smacky, though in truth he is not mine. He belonged to the Xelbrins, who both sadly died in the Cloud Giant attack. If you are headed to Goldenfields as I hear, would you be so kind as to take Fluffy with you? You see the Xelbrin's son runs the Inn there, goes by the name Miros. He will be devastated at the news of his parent's death, but perhaps returning their little pet will help ease the blow. With a tear in his eye, Smacky nodded solemnly and vowed to protect the little kitty. Goldenfields was the right direction for Pinko too, who was keen to return to his commune as soon as possible now he'd secured a cure to the Transformation Lock curse, so it was agreed they’d depart on the morrow.


 
 



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