Session 00 - Introductions
Bowen walked quickly through the River Quarter, trying to get to the Green Dragon Inn before the day became much darker. He wondered, not for the first time, whether the meeting was worth the risk of being in the River Quarter past sunset. Bowen worked in Greyhawk City’s River Quarter during the daylight hours, and that was fine and safe enough. But after dark, things in the River Quarter tended to get… well… darker.
The Strip was fine - he felt relatively safe there, what with the patrols around, but to get to his destination he had to leave the strip and head into a street that even the city watch avoided. Rhennee bargemen tended to frequent the area, and Bowen knew that the river gypsies had a tendency overdrink and become aggressive.
Bowen worked the docks when he could find employment as a porter and/or labourer and interacted with the bargemen often. He liked their apparently carefree lifestyle. But at night he was just a lone human with no hand-to-hand skills nor a way to travel unseen. He might as well be carrying a practice target on his chest. It was only at the behest of his dwarven friend, Gundren, that he was taking the risk to be here at all.
Gundren Rockseeker had asked Bowen to meet some other individuals at the Green Dragon Inn - people that Bowen had never heard of before, let alone met. The names flitted through his mind once again. There was someone named “Rye Ewe”, a halfling name “Eee Ritch”, and an elf named “My Zar”. There was Gundren’s cousin “Topaz” as well, who was apparently a priestess of some dwarven deity. Gundren actually had insisted once that Bowen meet his cousin Topaz (“a fine, sturdy lass”) at one of his drunken dwarven get togethers, and claims that the event actually took place. But Bowen had to take the dwarf’s word for the meeting, as he doesn’t recall a thing from the night it supposedly happened. Bowen rarely remembered anything after the first keg of dwarven stout was broached at an event Gundren took him to, and that was usually the first event in any dwarven gathering.
Gundren had asked this group to deliver some supplies to the rough and tumble community of Mardin’s Field, a couple of days west of Greyhawk City. The excited dwarf was more than a little secretive about his reasons for the trip, and why he wanted this particular group of strangers (strangers to each other, that is) to deliver his supplies. He mentioned only that he and his brothers had found “something big” and that he was willing to pay each of the group 10 gold pieces to escort his supplies to some Trading Post in Mardi’s Field called, “Barthen’s Provisions”. Gundren then set out himself on horseback, apparently not even able to wait two days for the cart to be packed. Gundren was accompanied by a human warrior Bowen had never heard of called, “Sildar Hallwinter”. Gundren said he had to arrive early in Mardin’s Field to “take care of business” and that it could not wait. Bowen had to no idea what his friend was up to, but he sure could use the 10 gold pieces - a month of full time dock wages. Things were pretty slow at the docks lately, and his considerable skill with the bow was wasted down there anyway. He felt he needed this excursion to stretch his legs and maybe get to “knock the rust” off of his bow. He certainly wasn’t meant for the sort of existence he’d been living here in the city thus far. Bowen came from noble blood, and he just knew that he was meant for bigger, better things. Bowen pulled himself more erect as these thoughts went through his head. Perhaps Greyhawk City was just not the place for that to happen. After two years of dock work, he was no better off than when he had started. Money and expenses equalled out for the most part, and even then he had to make sacrifices that he felt were beneath him. And ever since that day he had told off the captain of that large frigate, Captain Smythe, and won the admiration of the other dock workers, he had definitely been getting employed less.
Even as Bowen directly considered the two ideas - telling off and Captain and getting less employment - he made no connection between the events. Instead he considered the future. Perhaps he’d find work in this “Mardin’s Field” place and stay away from Greyhawk City for a bit. While it was true there was plenty of money in Greyhawk City, it seemed like no matter what you did, it stayed in the hands of only the city’s wealthier families.
Bowen Aero turned left and walked through the doors of the Green Dragon Inn, suddenly convinced that whatever lay beyond its doors was his destiny.
He had asked Gundren Rockseeker how he would recognize the people he was to travel with, and Gundren had simply said, “Look for the dragon”. Bowen thought this was Gundren simply being annoying, as of course he had to first find the Green “Dragon” Inn, but as he entered the main room, he immediately knew what Gundren had meant.
Hulking at one of the tables as a huge, two-legged, wingless, dragon. Well, not huge for a dragon, certainly, but huge for everything else in the inn on two legs. He was at a table with a tallish robed figure with the pointy ears of an elf, a cloaked alfing, and a dwarven female. The hulking scaled figure was laughing at something that the halfing had said, and as he laughed, white sparks danced around his formidable teeth. It was as frightening as it was awe-inspiring.
As the big dragon finally got one of his amazing jokes, the halfing Eritch Greenbottle briefly considered removing the dragon’s belt pouch. It was the original reason he had started telling jokes - a distraction so he could obtain the pouch - but it had taken a long time to find the particular humour the scaly creature found amusing. Now that he had succeeded, watching the sparks around Ryuu’s sharp, curved teeth had taken a lot of the fun out of the idea. Sure, it was almost an assured success, and he could just take a few coins and return the pouch without the dragonborn being any the wiser, but Gundren had warned him in advance that it wasn’t a good idea to mess with the dragonborn.
“I’m hiring you against my better judgement, Eritch,” Gundren had said. “Because I know you have unfinished business in Mardin’s Field. And I owe you, so I’m going to give you this break.” Then Gundren’s jovial smile had become suddenly deadly and stern - the dwarf was damned good at that transitionary look, Eritch thought - and he added, “But DO NOT steal from any of my other friends! You may not know them, but that doesn’t make them into targets. The dragonborn in particular, will fry the marrow in your bones if he catches you, and that more from how dishonourable an act it was to steal from him than any real concern for whatever coins you managed to find. And if you lived through that,” Gundren added, “I, personally, will make sure your fingers become far too detached from your hands to allow you to ever do it again”.
But the dwarf was right. At least about Eritch’s unfinished business. He had left Mardin’s Field six months previously because of a group of thugs known as “The Blackhawks”. Eritch had gone to Mardin’s Field because he had heard the town was experiencing massive growth. Eritch knew that law enforcement rarely kept up with quick growth, and that quick growth meant lots of cash flowing into the local economy. This was the ideal mix for someone like Eritch to get rich.
There were others with the same idea, however. Shortly after Eritch set himself up in the town, a group calling themselves The Blackhawks moved in. Rather than work against them for resources, Eritch sought to join the group. They accepted him readily enough, and he was surprised to find that they did not seem especially organized, despite the fact that they told Eritch that they were a branch of a larger organization located in Greyhawk City. The current leader of the group, Gardan Peeslop, was especially bad at planning and his leadership of the thugs was sorely lacking as well. Eritch easily befriended Gardan and established himself as Gardan’s right hand man - (or halfling, rather). It was not long before Eritch was actually the one running the Blackhawks in Mardin’s Field, though Gardan seemed to remain the leader.
Eritch had been on a trip to Greyhawk City to fence some of the goods the crew had managed to procure when, unbeknownst to Eritch, a wizard named Glasstaff moved in and took over the Blackhawks. Through the power of his personality, or perhaps through the use of spells, Glasstaff became the leader and Gardan was killed in a freak drinking accident - drowned in his own urine somehow (Eritch did not ever learn the details of how such a circumstance came about). Upon his return to Mardin’s Field, the Blackhawks gang tried to have Eritch killed. He managed to escape (barely) and learned only that it was on the orders of the new leader, this “Glasstaff”, that his death had been ordered, and that Gardan was dead as well.
Eritch had wanted to return to Mardin’s Field ever since that day. Glasstaff would pay.
As he smiled about how sweet the coming revenge would taste, Eritch told yet another joke to the dragonborn, who laughed yet again.
Ryuu Yojimbo forced himself to laugh once more at the half man’s jokes. It must be important to the small being to make Ryuu laugh, as he had been attempting it for almost a half an hour now. Maybe giving up a laugh or two would make his stop. Eritch’s incessant blather was interfering with the dragonborn’s rehearsal of battle tactics in his mind. And now the forced laughter was making his scaly face hurt.
Ryuu was not ill at ease in the tavern, but his presence was having that effect on the other patrons. The people of Greyhawk City were just as unused to seeing his kind, just as were all of the other places he had visited in this land. There were other dragonborn to be found here and there, but for the most part, they were not common at all, and were distrusted when not outright feared. This contrasted heavily with his homeland, where the “people of the dragon” were seen everywhere and were well respected. Ryuu bore this as he bore everything - off the battlefield, interactions with other beings meant very little. It was only on the battlefield that you saw the true nature of any creature, human, humanoid, or monster. Because most beings Ryuu had met in large cities had not seen true battle in any form at all, Ryuu paid them very little attention. He could spot the human veterans of battle easily, and even those amongst the paper thin flesh of the elves. When he saw such a one, only then did he allow himself to acknowledge that there might be some worthy of his conversation.
Eritch was such a one. His was incredibly small, but had obviously seen some battles. He had the scars that spoke for themselves, and carried himself as if he were always one heartbeat away from some quick action, like drawing his weapons for defense or for attack. As had the dwarven female who called herself “Topaz”. She was obviously no stranger to battle. Not so the elf who called itself (himself? herself?) “Mizar”. Frail and unarmoured, the effeminate male elf (or was it masculine female elf?) had obviously never wielded a farming tool let alone a weapon. Hence the elf was hardly worth Ryuu’s notice. The other two would have to prove themselves to be worthy of Ryuu’s respect, but he thought the initial signs were promising.
For battle was all that Ryuu knew. In his native lands, a place of cherry blossoms and honey, he had been the champion of a regal lord, Honshou Ojima. Only the death of Lord Ojima had been enough to displace him from the land he loved. Although his lord’s daughter Mahlon offered Ryuu a position in her own army after the murder of her father, Ryuu could not move past his failure to protect his lord at all costs. Ryuu had prepared for any sort of attempts on his lord’s life during times of war, but it was when peace had descended on the lands of Ojimbo had the killers struck.
He declined the offer by the lord’s daughter graciously, then set about to wander the lands and think upon what had transpired. Who had been behind the killings, and why? Ryuu was a student of war, but not of politics. In war, the enemy was tangible and real. In politics, your friend was just as likely to be your enemy. Ryuu seethed at the dishonour in such a method of interaction. He left the daughter of his lord after the funeral of her father, vowing to walk the world and to battle the unlawful and dishonourable, and reward the just.
After many months, Ryuu came upon some information about some brigands who were said to have had a hand in the murder of his lord. It was also rumoured that the brigands often travelled with pirates, and were pirates of a fashion themselves. Ryuu joined up with one of the ships he thought the brigands might be travelling upon - a ship owned by its captain - Captain Aanorudo. Even if the brigands themselves were not on the ship, Ryuu thought he might be able to get more information on these brigands through the other members of the crew. He was mistaken.
Although the crew was always willing to gossip and trade stories, it soon became obvious they were a superstitious bunch, prone to tall tales. The best tales seemed to always gain the most attention and sometimes were rewarded with extra rations of rum. This lead to a lot of misinformation. The wildest story was that the brigands - who were not on the ship after all - had sailed off with a “Captain Hoggarty” of the ship “Oerth’s End” to a land in the East, and the ship had never returned. It was clearly a lot of applecores, as everyone knew, there were no lands to the East.
The ship Ryuu was on was caught in a severe storm and blown off course completely. For weeks after the storm, all the spotters in the highest rigging could see was water on all sides. Dehydrated and starving, the crew began to die off, one by one. Another storm blew up, and there were not enough crew to manage the ship under such conditions. They floundered and they capsized and Ryuu thought that perhaps the Gods were meting out a fitting punishment for his failure to protect his lord. That was, until he awoke on the beaches of this unfamiliar land that he eventually learned the locals called, “The Flanaess”.
Ryuu could not understand the language of the locals, and they seemed to fear him. Not a respectful caution, as he was used to being treated, but a barely concealed terror that he might do some unforseen harm to them. It was difficult to live in such a way. Nobody would talk to him, and he could not learn the language, so his basic needs were difficult to meet.
That’s when he met the Rockseeker triplets - Gundren, Nundro, and Tharden. While the latter two took very little interest in the dragonborn, Gundren was endlessly fascinated. He had never met such a creature, and clearly the big wingless dragon needed help. Gundren patiently taught Ryuu the language he called, “common” and Ryuu learned many things from the dwarf. They traveled to Greyhawk City where Gundren showed Ryuu the Mercenaries Guild Hall. Ryuu gladly became a member. Gundren did not join him. The dwarf confessed that his love of rocks and gems and gold kept him too busy to properly pursue the art of fighting, but he promised Ryuu he would return, and left the dragonborn in the care of the guild.
When he finally did return, Gundren was very excited about something he had discovered with his brothers, and needed Ryuu to meet with some other friends of his at the Green Dragon Inn this very night and that the group of them - 5 in all - would deliver some supplies to the community of Mardin’s Field to the west. Ryuu was pleased at the request. He wished to repay Gundren for his kindness, and also felt it was time to leave this overcrowded, smelly human place. Sure, there were a great many humans back home - his lord had been one - but the ones back home had differently hued flesh and thought almost always of glory in combat and of honour. The same could not be said of almost everyone in the Mercenaries Guild. And the humans back home bathed constantly - a thing which seemed completely unknown to the humans here!
Ryuu glanced over at Topaz, who was saying a quick prayer over her freshly delivered mug of ale, holding onto a pendant adorned with a single round red gem. Her eyes were closed as she mouthed the prayer, and it seemed the dwarf was paying very little attention to the incessant chatter of the halfling.
Indeed, that is precisely what Topaz was doing. This quest, as minor as it was, was her first attempt at doing something that did not involve other clerics of her faith or other soldiers in one of the regiments she had served in. She was free to act on her own as a representative of Ulaa, She Who Was the Heart Under the Mountain. She thought it fitting to bless the mugs consumed the night before something new began.
She had not always sought the life of a priestess. Certainly when younger she had carried the same reverence and respect for the deities of the dwarven pantheon just as most dwarves did. She simply felt no calling at that time to devote herself to service towards them. Instead she joined the militia, and served with a dwarven contingent that fought a few battles in the Shield Lands to the north, against a fierce army of hobgoblins, who were part of the Horned Society, during the Greyhawk Wars.
During the particularly harrowing and nasty Battle of Shepkote, a friend of hers - a fellow soldier named Afgin Thyksson - was gravely wounded. Afgin lay dying on the field and she knelt beside him, removing her helmet. She had already lost two friends earlier that day, and her grief was overwhelming. Without even knowing she was doing it, she called out to the goddess of the heart of the mountain, Ulaa, to spare his life. Afgin’s wound closed and his eyes fluttered open. She had saved him! No, she thought again, Ulaa had saved him. She vowed at that moment to follow the path of devotion to the goddess, while still pursuing her life as a soldier.
After the war’s end, she found herself stationed in the human city of Admundfort on Walworth Isle in the huge freshwater sea the humans called, “The Nyr Dyv”. There was a temple to Ulaa there, run by a priest by the name of Gorem Algrimmsson, and Topaz spent some of her time learning more of the tenets of the goddess while also involved in rigorous (or was it tedious) drills and assignments to guard the city’s harbours.
It would have been a fairly good existence, if it wasn’t for the water. Being constantly surrounded by water made the dwarf uncomfortable, and she found herself pining for the old days where she was instead surrounded by enemies. When volunteers were sought after to fill the ranks of the militia and city watch of the Free City of Greyhawk to the south, Topaz volunteered immediately. She bid a tearful goodbye to her mentor at the temple of Ulaa, and nervously boarded a boat to the free city. One last time on the water, or so she hoped!
The new start in Greyhawk City was not as she expected. On the one hand, she was pleased to find a chapel of Ulaa in the city’s Garden Quarter. A tiny building that was more of a cottage than a temple of worship, the building was built near a wonderful old well that the priests held their services beside. Topaz was placed under the tutelage of an experienced adventuring cleric of Ulaa named Quartz, by the head of the temple, Guldan Rockflint. Quartz and Topaz became good friends as well as colleagues. Quartz had many adventurous stories of his time spent as one of the henchmen of a famous adventurer named Phetoris. Frequent visits by her triplet Rockseeker cousins were also quite welcome, especially Gundren, who was always the most witty of the three (the only real way to tell him from the other two).
The patrols for the city guard were a different matter. The soldiers were a mixed bunch, but far too many were cruel and abused their power. They would bully and harass the lower classes of the city - those without the means to fight back. One night, the lieutenant of her patrol, one Dickle Mensen, called for the arrest of a frail old human woman who was breaking a law Topaz was not at all sure was even in the law books - walking on the side of the sidewalk closest to the road after the hour of 18 bells - and Topaz flatly refused to arrest the frightened woman. Topaz instead gently told her to go on home. For this action, Dickle had Topaz suspended from active duty, but she held on to her rank because Sental Nurev, the Captain-General of the Watch, was fond of her.
She decided to view the change in circumstance as a blessing from Ulaa. She devoted herself fully to her deity, spending all of her time at the chapel with Quartz and listening to his amazing stories of adventure. Then came the day that Gundren showed up without his brothers but instead accompanied by a tall human dressed in fine warrior’s garb and sporting a strange gleam in his eye. Gundren went directly past Topaz to speak with Guldan (who he always called, “Goldie”) and had a private chat that Topaz did not ever learn the nature of. Whatever went on behind the closed doors, Quartz came to Topaz not long afterwards and told her it was time for her to attempt a little adventure of her own. With one last wistful but odd piece of advice to never, ever quaff two different potions at the same time, Quartz tearfully said goodbye and Topaz was sent to accompany Gundren. There her cousin explained that she would be traveling with some other companions that Gundren himself had chosen.
“They are all trustworthy,” he told her. “You will be their rock and you will be their heart.” He kissed her on the cheek then, something he had never done before. “I feel in my own heart that you will be the difference between the success and failure of my endeavour, dear cousin.”
But no matter how she prodded at him after that, Gundren would say no more on the subject, always turning it in into some joke. And now here she was with a cart full of supplies that Gundren had ordered himself, sitting with the 3 strangers who were going to help her get them to Mardin’s Field, and awaiting the 5th stranger.
Topaz opened her eyes, the blessing for her mug complete. She grinned and raised her eyebrows. “Hit me again?” she asked the elf on the other side of the table, holding her mug in front of him. Her first mug, ordered before the others arrived, had tasted somewhat foul despite the blessing she had also given it, and the elf had showed up after the first two swallows.
“I hope that grimace is for the taste of your ale and not a reaction to the company of an elf,” the somewhat effeminate high elf had said. “You are the one they call, “Topaz” I assume?” Without waiting for her to acknowledge this supposition, the elf said a quick word Topaz did not understand, then quickly ran his finger around the top of her mug. There was a sort of fizzing noise, then the elf said, “That ought to do it,” and sat down across from her. Topaz stared at him for a moment before the elf said, “Try it now.”
It took Topaz a moment to realize what he was referring to. Ah, he meant the ale. She sipped at it again, the grimace appearing in advance of the taste this time. But… It was good! The elf had done something to the ale and now it was quite tasty indeed!
“How did you…?” she began.
The elf only grinned and said, “I am Mizar. I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”
They only chatted briefly before the halfing arrived, introducing himself as Eritch, and not long afterwards the arrival of the somewhat aloof and surprising dragonborn. Gundren had not warned Topaz of the race of the warrior, and by the surprised look on the face of Mizar and Eritch, he had not told them either.
Mizar leaned forward and once again altered the taste of her ale by bending the reality surrounding it just slightly. He added just a hint of cinnamon this time, mostly to see if the dwarf would notice it. The halfing and the dragonborn held their mugs towards him as well at Topaz’s unspoken encouragement - which involved mostly a foamy grin and an enthusiastic indication in Mizar’s direction with her mug - and Mizar did the same for their ale as well.
Mizar leaned back in his chair with a theatrical sigh. It always came down to parlour tricks. Nobody appreciated the ultimate cosmic power at his disposal. Or, more accurately, the ultimate cosmic power that he was working toward. He watched the others chatting, absent-mindedly lighting and unlighting the candle on the table with a flick of his finger, not even realizing that such a fascinating trick hurt his cause, rather than helped it.
Mizar felt this entire endeavor to be beneath him. Every moment he spent here in the inn and every moment on the road was one less moment that he could spend in the College of Magic’s library, poring over the tomes available to the non-enrolled and learning all he could about the manipulation of magical forces. But his non-student privileges there had run out, and he had no money to renew them. That or finally find enough wealth to join the college as a full-time student. Truthfully, he was flat broke - not even enough cash for food and rent, let alone library privileges. Gundren had promised him 10 gold pieces for this delivery job, and he needed half of that to pay for more library rights and the other half to pay for his room at the Barge Inn.
And then there was that nagging little voice in the back of his head that wanted him to try the magical power he had thus far obtained through his solo studies. To try them out in the real world. He had focussed on learning the school of evocation, and in particular the creation of powerful destructive spells. He was particularly drawn to the ability to create fire. He had decimated more than one burlap target in the yards at the Guild of Wizardry (another expense he probably shouldn’t have expensed), but he morbidly longed to see what these spells would do to a creature made of flesh and bone.
Mizar’s relationship with Gundren Rockseeker was unlike any of the others’. When Mizar had first come to Greyhawk City, he was low on funds (some thing never change, he thought parenthetically) and needed a place to stay. A place preferably near the College of Magic, where he hoped to study. Most places were far out of his budget. There was only one rental posting that he could find that fit his finances: A dwarf by the name of Gundren Rockseeker needed someone trustworthy to watch his room at the Barge Inn because he was often on other business. The rent was free, as long as the person would watch Gundren’s equipment and keep the place clean and free of osquips. Mizar sought him out and it turned out the dwarf was becoming somewhat desperate, as the only people who had responded to his poster had been obvious thieves. Gundren did not trust Mizar completely, either, but must have at least decided that Mizar wasn’t out to rob him. He told Mizar that he was often not at the small apartment, as he had several things going on “out of town” that were “in various stages of planning and execution”. He needed to be sure that his place was safe and that he didn’t have to be worrying about whatever things he left here and that he’d have a place to sleep when in town. Mizar liked the arrangement (despite knowing that when Gundren was in Greyhawk City, Mizar would be sleeping on the floor, as there was only one bed in the single room) mostly because of the price. Watching a few apparently worthless dwarven trinkets and mining equipment in turn for a roof over his head was a price Mizar could well afford.
Gundren ended up being in Greyhawk City far more than Mizar liked. He often came to town for a week at a time to “visit his cousin”. Mizar doubted that Gundren even had a cousin, as he had never met such a person. That is, before tonight, when he actually sat across from her and flavoured her drink. Although the frequent visits from Gundren soured the arrangements a bit, there were also long periods when the dwarf was “off with his brothers” and Mizar had the place to himself. It wasn’t too far from the College of Magic’s library and Mizar was able to spend more time reading and less time walking.
Eventually Gundren brought Mizar the offer to escort a wagonload of stuff for the agreed upon price of 10 gold pieces.
“I won’t be needing this place anymore, either,” Gundren said, looking around and smiling in an odd way. “Ye can take up the rent if ye wish, or find a new lodging.”
Mizar budgeted quietly as he sat in the Green Dragon Inn. The place at the Barge Inn was a silver piece a week. With the 5 gold he’d have left over after his library fees, that was almost a year. If he decided not to eat for that year, of course, or found some other way to finance his food. Then a thought began to form: Inns had food. Inns had cheap ale. Mizar had spells to improve the taste of…”
“I assume you are the other friends of Gundren Rockseeker that I am to meet?” said a human, standing near the table and looking at the dragonborn. Mizar’s thought was interrupted and lost, and that annoyed him.
“And who are you?” Mizar asked, somewhat more crossly than he intended.
Bowen introduced himself to the group, thus bringing our introduction to the members of Gundren Rockseeker’s Delivery Party full circle. The evening was not as lively and engaging as you might imagine, as the members of the group were each unsure of each other or simply not interested. None of them pried too deeply into the others’ business, and they all retired to separate rooms after only an hour or so after Bowen’s arrival. The next day would be a long one on the road.
Mizar embarrassingly asked if someone could spot him for his room, and Eritch obliged with money he had newly acquired from a woodcutter who had had one too many mead and was obliviously and loudly singing a ditty about Mayor Gasgal of Greyhawk that was not flattering in the least, alone in a corner by the fireplace. They had all recognized the song as one that it was illegal to even hum. Eritch had joined the woodcutter only briefly, his arm around the seated woodcutter’s shoulder, and the others wondered why he would risk singing the banned song, even if it were only for a bar or two.
“The man sounded like he needed a tenor,” shrugged Eritch.
