Mists Over the Musarde, Chapter Three

[ewancummins]

The eastern sky is ablaze with color- pink, rose, and orange-red. The sun hasn't yet climbed high enough to be seen above even the lowest roofs of the city. Here and there along the quiet streets, shutters and doors come open and the early-risers move out to begin their workday: street vendors, peddlars of all sorts, garbage collecters, day laborers, and the like.

In the home of Denys Sancerre, another set of early risers has gathered, for a day's work that promises to be more exciting- and dangerous- than pushing a handcart full of fish through the streets or filling the back of a horse-drawn wagon with trash.

Denys looks about at the gathered company.
''Just as soon as everyone is here and ready, I wish to depart for the Grim Bastion. ''

[Le Noir Faineant]

*Bumpin' in before going to work.*

[Adam]

Bennedict sits on the porch of the Sancerre home, winding and carefully inspecting the springs of his crossbow. His backpack contains a new weight, a bundle of silver bolts he intends to put to good use on any were-creatures he may encounter during the day's activities. He fidgets, uncomfortable beneath the weight of his heavy steel breastplate. For a moment he thinks wistfully of stories he had read of the fine metal, mithril, said to carry the strength of steel with a fraction of the weight. We'll be bumping into enough things of legend today, he reminds himself, Best not to wish for too many more to make an appearance.

He remembers a day, long ago, in a library far from this land. He had spoken to a group of men, men who claimed to be members of a secret organization. They bore a terrible secret, that despite the age of enlightenment spreading through his homeland, the creatures of darkness and ignorance the common men had convinced themselves were not real did in fact exist, and were in fact striving to drag that age of enlightenment down into ruin. They would not allow this, and so they sought men of knowledge to help them battle the darkness, to fight back against the things that go bump in the night.

He...had not exactly signed on with enthusiasm. At the time, his combination of disbelief and personal greed had prevented any sort of life-long dedication to a cause that seemed tedious and unprofitable. The young man couldn't exactly convince himself that things had changed so much now, but he had seen much of the world, and knew now that these dangers were real, and that they thrived because men like him chose to turn their back and pretend they didn't exist. Well, he couldn't exactly convince himself that he had changed that much, but here he was, about to storm into a...well, the place's name, Grim Bastion, described it well enough. So maybe he had changed.

Or maybe he was just tired of getting attacked by bastard Hazlani mages in basements.

He looked up, catching the eye of one of the Sancerre's servants. He waves them over, handing over an envelope containing a copy of all of his notes from the Incabulos Case. It is addressed to the Nufrechtenburg library, with a recipient's name conspicuously absent. "See that this goes out in the post," he says, before turning back to his preparations.

[Lord Skybolt]

Alain is outside checking his gear much as Benn is . He is adjusting his buckler on his arm for the most mobility . Checking his 15 Silvered bolts( hoping he won't need this many) for easy access . Making sure his crossbow is in good working . Checking his new silvered daggers in there sheaths around his belt , and one concealed in his boot sheath . Also his new silvered short sword obtained for this expedition . Making sure his spell component pouch is well organized for spell casting . Making sure his daily ration bag and mug for easy use at the top of his back . Having a wineskin full of water at his belt to wash out the taste of the sewer from his mouth whenever needed . Making sure his sunrods are ready for use at his belt . He does stretches to get the kinks out of his back while his equipment is in tidy pile near him (there is a very very faint sound of links tinkling when he does this) . His mask to put on when he goes down there to conceal his identity from their enemies down there in the sewers .

[steveflam]

Norzak admires his two new purchases. A silver dagger and short sword. He'd heard of these but had never thought he'd really need one. Swords is s'posed ta be normal metal or mebbe some freak magic. Them ratfinks in tha sewers might not like these here weapons is whut the others sez. I dunno bout that t abe honest. Mebbe Jon can enlighten us as to whut ta especk down there.

When they are all together, Norzak asks the youth "Whut kinna we especk from these freak rats, laddie? I's ne'er foughted a wererat ta be honest. Any hints or advice afore we go down there in tha sewers. Why's we needed tha silver weapons? I mean cain' we jess chop up these rats with our normal weapons an move on?"

[Brock Marsh Runoff]

Dorgio sharpens his father's spear, and chants a hymn to the morning as he waits with his comrades. The words are esoteric, their meaning lost in layers of hermeneutics. It had something to do with an elf with only one hand, that much Dorgio was sure of.

He looked up and breathed deeply, taking pleasure in the morning rays. How much of their work had been done under cover of darkness, how much of today would be spent under stone and mildew? The priest deftly lit his first cigarillo and sent tendrils of smoke up to greet the dawn.

He reaches behind his back, to reassure himself that the silver dagger and score of silvered quarrels he'd procured were secure. "I am ready when you are, my friend."

[Adam]

Overhearing the dwarf's question, Bennedict looks up from his preparations. "The flesh of lycantrhopes, for instance werewolves and wererats, is resistant to damage from your average knife or sword. They are also acutely allergic to silver. There are stories of monster hunters pressing silver coins into the hands of suspected lycanthropes to check for the appearance of a rash, to give you an idea of how potent the reaction is."

[JMaytr]

Jonathan sleeps well that night, safe in his new squat. The group didn't know about this spot. If the next time I have to flee is real, I will be a little tougher to catch he told himself. He looked at the remains of his clothing knowing he needed new ones. Taking some of the coins from the chest Jonathan bought, he set out to buy a nice set of traveling clothes and a fine dress coat. Some coins were spent buying goods from Stoneguts, but most were kept hidden in his new squat.

Jonathan kept two gold coins on him for when he grew hungry later.

Arriving at the Sancerre home Jonathan looks for the others. Seeing Norzak he moves to be by the dwarf. At Norzak's question he is cut off by Benn before he can speak. But after listening to the Lamordian, Jon takes out his silver knife and puts the blade against the bite on his palm seeing if the metal did anything to the skin.

[steveflam]

"How's that feel, Jon? It do somethin odd to ye?" Norzak gauges Jon's reaction to the silver dagger.

[Lord Skybolt]

Alain put's all his gear/weapons back on and approaches Denys and says :" I'm as ready as I'll ever be, and only await the rest of the our party as you do ."

[ewancummins]

Jon presses the silver blade against his bare skin. He feels nothing unusual. Certainly, there is no burning feeling.

Denys answers Alain,


''Yes I believe we are ready.''

A man comes out of the house and stands near Denys. He wears a black top coat and a straw hat. He's a tough looking fellow, with features that bespeak a life of hard living and violence- scars, furrowed cheeks, and a narrow look in his eyes. He wears a beautifully groomed mustache, one that any Vaasan lord would be proud to call his own. From a harness across his shoulder hangs what appears to be a bundled net, and a flintlock pistol is holstered on his belt.


Denys waves the hand forward.

''Oh, of course, you haven't all met our newest helper. Gentlemen, this is Monsieur Buckman. He is an accomplished scout, as well as a professional in the retrieval of missing persons and fugitives from justice, and he comes highly recommended by my Falkovnian associates. ''

[Adam]

Bennedict looks on with clinical interest at Jon's experiment, but turns away disappointed when no reaction occurs. Instead, he turns towards the newcomer. "Herr Buckman," he says, his tone guarded, "I trust Herr Sancerre has filled you in on the situation. I take it from your appearance you have some experience with this sort of thing?"

At least there's no falcon on his forehead he thinks, though he could just as easily work for them. I hope this Buckman doesn't end up making things more complicated rather than less.

[Brock Marsh Runoff]

Dorgio leans on his spear and takes note of Buckman's equipment, paying particular interest to net. "Welcome, friend Buckman. We'll be appreciating the help." He then gestures to the bundle. "You are planning on taking specimens?"

[steveflam]

"That means we ain't killin' all them rat finks? Where ye from, Buckman? An what ye knowin that might be useful ta us? What ye done as well?"

Norzak asks the newcomer bluntly, trying to get the measure of him. He likes what he sees, but wants to judge by the man's response if Denys made a good choice.

[ewancummins]

Buckman claims to be a gentleman adventurer from the country of Arkandale- a frontier nation that lies upriver of Richemulot. The conversation is cut short when Denys calls out-


''The coach is here- let's go!''

A large coach drawn by a six horse team pulls up in front of the house. Denys gets in, tossing a bag in ahead of himself. Once all of you are seated within[except Sir Cirdan, who is riding his horse], Denys says-

''I hope it's not too snug for you fellows. So....the Bastion isn't far away, really. I sincerely hope we are ready for this....''


It is indeed a bit snug inside the coach, with seven of you crammed into a space built for six.

Conversation continues on the way to the Bastion, with Denys laughing nervously from time to time at things that really don't seem so funny. At least he isn't drinking.

Out the green glass windows, one may see the cityscape roll past. Leaving the western portion of the city, your coach traverses a series of bridges, causeways and roads that carry it across a number of small islands in the stream, most of them covered with buildings. Within the hour, you've crossed over to the districts on the east side of the river- an especially old-looking part of town. Huge cranes and winches loom up out of the morning river-fog, like giant sentinels watching over the ancient town. The streets here are old in in poor repair, so the ride is slower and bumpier than it was through Denys' neighborhood. One tends to get the impression that there are fewer people here than along the western bank or in the busy islets midstream. Certainly, you don't see many people out and about, of course...it is still early morning. The handful of peddlars and streetpeople you do see pay little heed to your coach as it rolls down the narrow streets. Most of them do spare a glance for Sir Cirdan mounted on his horse, though. A knight in full armor riding through the morning haze isn't something you see everyday.

The coach rolls slowly to a stop. The coachman raps on the frame and announces :

''Here we are gents- the Grim Bastion. I go no further.''


Getting out, you can all see what must be the Bastion- a rectangular keep of grey stone that dwarfs the other buildings in the area. The ramshcakle old homes and derelict shops of the neighborhood all seem to be leaning away from the Bastion, and none stand within twenty yards of it. All around the perimeter of the Bastion is a veritable jungle of weeds, bricks, and rubble. The Bastion is possibly forty feet tall, and twice that distance across the front- as big as a fancy chateau, or a very big warehouse. This is no nobleman's pleasant chateau , and if it is a warehouse...then one might wonder what it contains that would require such defenses. A dry moat runs around the stronghold, filled in some places with trash and rubble. Watchtowers with crennelated battlements stand at each of the four corners of the great stone fortress. The only obvious points of entry are the massive wooden double doors hanging open in the front and a gap in the east wall, one just big enough to allow a man to squeeze through. The building is spotted with patches of climbing ivy, and looks as if it hasn't been occupied or maintained for a long time- but the construction seems solid enough, at least to a cursory examination from outside.