Bitter but Better

‘Old man’ Dante had trained in isolation for decades; angry and unfulfilled. Years ago, after a stellar start in the Assassins guild, under instruction of the Witches and more experienced Assassins, he’d been promised power and the freedom to inflict pain whenever and wherever he went. He cared nothing for the head hag; Hetzabah’s plans to take over Lord Urdurel’s kingdom, as long as he could torture and kill whoever he wanted to.

Although still very young at the time, he was a gifted sadist and there, for a change, his overtly psychopathic tendencies were a blessing rather than a ‘problem’. Then, just when it was getting really good, it all fell apart. 

After Hetzabah successfully duped the still mourning Lord Urdurel into a quick second marriage, the Assassins working under Megarna had an extremely good year, but then the hag became overconfident in her control over Urdurel. After the birth of her son; Briefadel, Hetzabah ordered her Assassins to murder his teenage daughter, Lamenta to clear the line of ascension. Lord Urdurel loved his daughter and her death unclouded his mind just enough to throw off her thrall. He then sent hundreds of his men after her and all of her minions.

The Witches who weren’t captured and killed; scattered to the neighbouring lands. The same happened to the Assassins. Everything was lost. All of Dante’s masters were killed or gone, leaving him to fend for himself. Find work for himself and join the lesser Thieves’ guild. He had been forced to secretly train himself in the Assassin arts. It hadn’t been easy and learning the hidden tricks, skills and spells of his original order had been near impossible. He’d spent years researching when he could have been, should have been, out there killing.

Still, fifty years later, Megarna had finally reformed her coven and recruited all the wannabe Assassins her underlings could find. Young, poorly trained, eager idiots mostly but it did, at least, give him the chance to train/torment a host of willing fools and show off his hard earned skills, whilst simultaneously creating a new Assassins’ guild. It also, finally and ironically, enabled him to use his covert, decades won, shadowy abilities out in the open.

Witches get Stitches

The middle-aged Witch cackles manically, as she soars away ‘side-saddle’ atop her traditional flying besom. The broom, the pointy hat, the black dress and even her precious black cat, make her resemble the classic image of a Witch. Mallophor was never one for this cliché but the costume was one of Megarna’s conditions for joining her coven. A ‘forced’ decision that, despite her apparent bravado, she’s currently having serious doubts about, even as the distance between her and the adventurers increases.

The river ambush plan had been some-what elaborate but its execution, in practice, should have been simple.

Four of the Assassins hid invisibly in the dry area beneath the pier, ready to slink out and kill the ferry-wheel operator and secure the mule and barge tether control wheel.

Two Assassins, by the use of water-breathing potions, were hiding beneath the barge with hull boring and sabotage tools.

The slightly-less-than-hinged; Dante, having already killed the Agentian bank’s ferry-wheel controller and replaced him in a reasonable (from-a-distance) disguise, was to stop the boat mid-river, effectively mooring the barge and snagging the adventurers between the two shores.

Then, his hidden men would launch a barrage of magical flaming crossbow bolts to ignite the barge’s already oil-soaked canopy. This would frighten the horses onboard and hopefully distract the trapped adventurers, while the ten South-bank and four East-bank Assassins peppered the front-facing and back-facing Adventurers with additional repeated flaming crossbow bolt attacks.

Her task was simply to circle invisibly above until the Halfling shape-shifter flew into the air and then target him exclusively until he fell, was dead or fled. 

No plan survives past first contact but Mallophor had been surprised by how quickly this one had fallen apart.

The Dwarf, with his divine and targeted magic, managed to help the town Captain and his four men, overcome their invisible Assassins AND drench the burning barge canopy, extinguishing the fire.

The heavily armoured Human actually dived into the water and, more surprisingly, swam quickly and confidently to the opposite bank.

And the Halfling, as expected, flew up to assess the situation from a bird’s eye perspective. An easy target in avian form but she had not expected him to fight back so fiercely or effectively.

Despite that, Mallophor would have gleefully traded spells with him a little longer, but she was now also under attack from, thanks to the Dwarven war-priest’s interference, the now unopposed Captain Lynchin and his men. 

Already injured and unable to long withstand assaults from both Liga Bur’s lightning and the Stowanian soldier’s crossbow bolts, she leaves the insane but effective, Dante and his remaining, expendable men to fend for themselves. 

Slim to No Chance

Stopped mid-combat, mid-river crossing on the big (now leaking and smouldering) barge; the Spinning Jenny, the odds seem to be dipping in the Party’s favour, despite Liga Bur floundering in the river with only a few fish-finger’s of HPs remaining.

Captain Lynchin and his four Zinerian guards have (surprisingly) managed to defeat the invisible, backstabbing Assassins on the Cottis side of the river and secure the chain-ratchet wheel. Poor ferryman Rod was killed though.

Armoured Banaal’s stuck on the boat with Rifkin, Jane, Ringo, Chape and Locket and all the dogs, mules and horses, but his back-looking vantage point and evil targeting spells gave Captain Lynchin and his men the advantage they needed.

On the Agentian bank though, Fortu has just emerged from the water and already cut down one of the Assassins on that side. Only nine more to go, plus their old-man leader. The old man leader who somehow managed to slip out of the effects of Liga Bur’s flaming blast!

From a conversation I’ve seen on another thread, I’m guessing this is going to be an absolute bust, but just to confirm, please check the possible dates below…

May options

Saturday the 23rd

Sunday the 24th

Saturday the 30th

Sunday the 31st

June options

Saturday the 6th

Sunday the 7th

Saturday the 13th

Sunday the 14th

Saturday the 20th

Sunday the 21st

Saturday the 27th

Sunday the 28th

All 9am starts.

Overworked, overstretched and overwhelmed Scott has spoken and the possible dates whittled down to just two. As I, the mighty DM get the final decision; the 7th of June it is. I don’t know why, but I just like Sundays!

The Knot Wave Inn

The austere seeming tavern owner and bar manageress; Miss Smith (Stevie to her friends) watches the seven men leave after an early breakfast. The Captain of their small guard post; Lynchin, had paid for everything in advance; Dinner, drinks, board and breakfast, as apparently, these men were on an important mission for Lord Urdurel himself.

Who were these strange men? The three soldiers were identical triplets. Extremely unusual but not unheard of, especially in this region of Fissa. The neighbouring kingdom of Agentia was as famous for the twins in its royal family as it was for the silver in its mountains. The other four though; a well presented War-priest Dwarf, the roughest, toughest looking Halfling that she’d ever seen, a barely Elf-touched Bard and the darkly-armoured Human. She’d been surprised when Fortu had come down for dinner sans his Platemail. He was much younger than she’d first assumed. Tall, strong and handsome, despite the scars, but somehow… still innocent. Without his black lenses, there’d been kindness in his blue/grey eyes.

Stevie shakes her head, making her short bobbed, grey hair shimmy.

‘Innocent’? That made no sense. From the rumours she’d heard, he’d been a gladiator from overseas. A trained killer from birth and now a merciless, mercenary sell-sword.

Perhaps it’s her old poetic heart? Perhaps it’s just that she’d spent her entire life surrounded by contented, soft-spoken fisherfolk beside the Mar-Gin river with a plentiful, all-year-round supply of fish. Ziner is a blessed place. Beautiful and peaceful. A town that, because of the fifty-year destroyed bridge/boarder crossing, has been sheltered from violence, even through Lord Urdurel’s decades long wars against the bordering realms.

Looking up, Stevie realises that the seven men are already gone and far out of sight, but she calls out to them anyway.

“May the gods of mercy, shelter and protect you.”