Episode 3--Letters to Rosalyn

Rosalyn,

I am afraid we have made a good deal of trouble here, but are no nearer to our goal.

We went to the hideout of the Otter Clan, led by Vixen and Anvar. En route, Vixen asked Delilah if we would keep Anvar from going into the hideout: although the half-orc puts up a good front, he is much more injured than he has let on. This was evident to all of us, and when we arrived at the Otter hideout we convinced him to remain on watch outside.

Inside the Otter hideout we found more questions than answers, and more traps than questions. Through a combination of cleverness, quick thinking, and some rather fast action on Tikaani's part, we managed to make our way all the way through the lair of the well-diggers which was... Trapped. Some of the traps even appeared to have traps, and what is more, some of the traps were fake. We eventually managed to find our way through an underground passage to a secret room in which the Otters had hidden the Idol of Many Hands (which we secured), along with all of their treasure - a very significant amount of coin totaling in excess of 200 ducats - to which my companions readily helped themselves.

Oh, I know what you are thinking. Tristan Foxfur, son of a good family from the Margravate of Griffonsford, star pupil of Gervaise Starhand of the Gareth Academy of Sword and Staff, has been reduced to dire straights if he is skulking about the lairs of thieves' guilds, relieving them of their ill-gotten treasures. I know. I have had the same thoughts and, I trust, many other recriminations which simply could not have originated in your gentle heart. Know that I do hope, when this business with the Cult is over, to settle down and earn a more honest living, but in any case it appears that all we did was to rescue the Otter's treasure from otherwise certain destruction (along with a very fair copy of Herbarium Kuslikum, the seventh volume). For, as my companions had just finished stuffing the ill-gotten gains of the Otter gang into a bag, Anvar sounded the alarm. We made a dash for the street and Ilcoron, to cover our retreat, set the Otter's hideout ablaze. Vixen and Tikaani got into a brief scuffle with them, and by the time we all managed to get away (Delilah and I managed to sneak away with the head) the Otters stood on the brink of an all-out gang war with the Foxes.

While exploring the hideout we found the body of one of the dead Otters. The man had been stabbed repeatedly and then dragged to his bed, possibly to make it look as though he had died there. I fear that the Otters will now believe that the Foxes were responsible for his murder, although my theory is that one of the Daggers or an Otter who was complicit with them (there were two Otters missing) must have killed him when he had come to switch out the heads.

Returning the true Idol back to Dalia, we removed the false head from Phex's altar and then cut open the fake. Within it, concealed in a small black velvet bag, there was some kind of ceramic spider, a kharmic artifact of the Nameless One which had been intended to desecrate the altar of Phex. At the Steward-Vicar's request I took for it and deposited it in a safe place outside of town, far away from the altars of the gods. Wearily and with a foreboding about what the morrow might bring, we returned to Mirabelle's to rest for the night while the servants of the God of Thieves searched the city for rumors of the cult.

Episode 2--Letters to Rosalyn

Rosalyn,

I have only moments to write: soon I must go into the heart of this city in search of the servants of the Nameless One. I have given this letter to Mirabelle to send should I not return. You are in my mind and upon my heart even now. I do not look for death - and the Twelve know I do not wish it - but to fight against such evils in the service of the gods and others is the purpose for which I was trained.

After freeing Anvar, he led us to the Fox "hideout" - a tavern run by the Fox gang - and there we were seen to by the Foxes' bonesetter, who patched up Ilcoron (and saw to my wounds as well, although these were small). We had a few hours of rest before the race was to begin, so we spent it nursing our injuries and planning our next move. We reasoned that the key would be to find out whether the head had already been switched for the defiled duplicate, or whether the head was to be switched during the race. As the easiest way to determine this would be to participate in the race ourselves, Anvar made us all temporary members of the Fox gang. I am not sure what my old master would say if he could see me now, but perhaps he would understand how needful it was. He often took me to task for being too quick to trust in my magic. I confess that my use of it may not have been as judicious as would have been hoped this day, but he would at least be glad to see that I took his counsel to rely on the wit and wisdom of my companions as much as on the considerable arcane powers at my disposal.

Speaking of my companions, while we were resting Delilah returned with a new companion, a Nevise tribal warrior named Tikaani. Although primitive she is very robust, and I think she will be a valuable contribution to our little band (as you shall see). At this point I spoke with my companions: Delilah, Ilcoron, and Tikaani. I said that although we (all save Tikaani) had finished the job rescuing Anvar, there was something even more sinister afoot in this town. Although my role as a White Mage demands that I pursue the matter to its conclusion, the others had no such compunction laid upon them. Therefore, I undertook out of my (not very considerable) personal funds to hire my three companions to help me find the switched-out head, and put an end to a cult of the Nameless One if indeed such exists here in Phexcaer.

That done, and our wounds all searched and leeched, we made our way to the Otter hideout for the beginning of the race. With a bit of muscle from the Nevise warrior and a bit of magic on my part, we managed to get ahold of the head right off and - Twelve be thanked for this - by numerous hijinks and street brawls with which I will not bore you, we managed to keep control of the head throughout most of the race, placing it at last on the Altar of Phex. I am afraid my old master would have frowned upon my involvement in what have must have looked like a number of common street brawls, but some things are more important than our pride.

Placing the head upon the altar allowed us both a closer look at the head as well as a relatively private audience with Delia, the Steward Vicar of the city. We were able to show her that the head was a forgery (there was very clearly a bit where the statue had been plastered over, and something had been concealed within) and advised her to take it off of the altar at once, for the servants of the Nameless One were abroad, and they intended to use the head to sully the altar of Phex. Although the Steward Vicar believed us (and seemed troubled, perhaps by dreams or visions given to her by the god of riddles and tricks?) she advised against removing the head: to do so, without replacing it with the original, would cause blame to be passed around among the various gangs and could be the spark that ignites a bloody street war. We are left with only one option -- to find the original within the next thirteen hours. It is to this task I go now, and may Hesinde give strength to what little magic I have left. I fear it may not be enough for this task.

Episode 1, Letters to Rosalyn

Dear Rosalyn,

I have reached Phexcaer and am well. I haven't much time to write as we are... well, I shall try to lay it all out as quickly as I may under the circumstances.

Entering the city, I was able to inquire as to the whereabouts of Mirebelle. She is as merry, as portly, and as helpful as you had said she would be -- and she speaks well of you (though who could otherwise?). I am afraid I came on her in the middle of some business, which after a few inquiries I found I was able to help with. As you know I can be rather persuasive when I need to be, and my white robes and yew staff speak volumes about what I can do if pressed. It turns out that Mirebelle had a... a niece of sorts, a thief in the service of the Foxes (one of the thieves' guilds which run this strange city) and this girl, Phenja by name, though she goes by the sobriquet Vixen, had lost her friend (and I think perhaps lover? For I know too well the pain of love to not read it in another's face) Anvar. Anvar was also a Fox, though recently initiated and unproven, and he had stumbled across a plot which... Well, to understand something of this plot you must first know something of the customs of this strange town.

In Phexcaer, city of thieves, the whole city is run by a number of Thieves' guilds -- the Foxes are the huntsmen and guides into the Orclands, the Otters are the well-diggers, the Daggers are the town watch, and etc. I do not know quite how you can have a city of legalized thievery, but the general effect is, as you might imagine, rather anarchical. Each year at an annual festival to Phex, god of thieves, a race is held amongst the various thieves' guilds, a sort of contest is held to see who can get the "idol of many hands" -- an ancient marble head of, I am given to understand, one of the old emperors, to one of five waypoints before setting it on the altar of Phex. The winners of this bloody minded contest (for although no weapons are allowed, essentially anything else goes, and there are a number of traps which are usually set since the final route of the race is always predictable) essentially get to choose the magistracy for the coming year. Thus Phexcaer may be said to be a sort of "kleptocracy," run by rival gangs, choosing its magistracy through bloody sports rather than right of lineage or the will of the populace.

Ah, but I am a long way from the Middenrealm.

In any case, we engaged to aid Vixen in her quest to locate Anvar. I say "we" because it was at this point that I was joined by two others: a surely Firnelf named Ilcoron, and a very... sharp-witted young Aranian girl (I believe she is an entertainer of some sort) who had also come to Mirabelle looking for work, or perhaps patronage. Both of them proved worthy companions, as you will see. We began our search outside the Phex Mead Hall, a popular hostelry and tavern, where we learned much that was of interest to us. This tavern was the last known whereabouts of Anvar, and was the place where he had overhead some kind of nefarious plot on the part of the Daggers, whom Vixen suspected to have taken Anvar.

The Aranian girl, Delilah by name, struck up a conversation with a Coalpelt by the name of Gratash, who had a workshop across the street from the Mead Hall. By all accounts Gratash (a craftsman in marble) was a slow-minded fool, and Delilah was able to extract a great deal of information from him. Ilcoron and myself conducted a more orthodox investigation outside, managing to find both Anvar's eavsdropping perch, as well as signs that he had been dragged away after a struggle. Eventually Delilah returned from the Coalpelt's workshop with the news that Anvar had been taken by a Dagger named Rikell, and that the Coalpelt had made an duplicate marble head at the behest of the Daggers. Apparently there was some sort of conspiracy afoot to switch the two during the contest. I must confess that Delilah was a good deal rather more useful than either Ilcoron or myself in all of this. She seems to posses what I have sometimes heard called "street smarts" in great supply. But you will be happy to know that I acquitted myself well later on, as you shall see.

After a bit of investigation we were able to find our way into the "Boneyards," an old derelict district of the city. It seems kleptocracies do not lend themselves well to regular municipal upkeep. With Ilcoron following the tracks left by Rickell and his men, we stole in upon the Daggers unawares in a cellar where they were torturing Anvar. Listening, we overheard much of their plot: Something within the duplicate head, which had already been switched out at the Otter hideout, was planned to desecrate the altar of Phex. This was to be done in the service of the Nameless One. Suddenly aware that the conspiracy went much deeper than the mere intrigues of feckless rogues, I revealed myself in power and let forth my magics.

I will not bore you with the tedious details of the battle. Suffice it to say that I lay waste to Rickell and one of his men with the arts and skills which were taught to me at the Gareth Academy of Sword and Staff, while my companions managed to handle the third cultist of the Nameless one (though not before Ilcoron was badly injured). Now we accompany Anvar back to the Fox hideout, in the hopes of being able to stop the desecration of Phex's altar before it is too late, and the whole of the city is given over to the Nameless One. (though not before Ilcoron was badly injured). Now we accompany Anvar back to the Fox hideout, in the hopes of being able to stop the desecration of Phex's altar before it is too late, and the whole of the city is given over to the Nameless One.