Out Of Session: Bruised

Eriamas slipped his legging down and picked up the pot of healing ointment from the table. The fall had caused a huge bruise on his back spreading to his legs. He winced as he prepared to apply the veldarian moss....

"Eriamas, do you know where my ...."

Leaping towards the door he tripped and fell over himself. Just for a second he wondered if he was really cut out for adventure with the clumsiness he'd exhibited over the last 48 hours.

Eliandor, his younger sister and closest in age, stepped through the door dressed in a beautiful white traditional Bentocovite dining dress.

"Eri, What are you doing sprawled out on the floor?"

"Being clumsy. Now give me a hand up I need to apply this before dinner"

Eriamas knew Eli had a gift so he'd decided a long time ago not to bother concealing his activities from her. She enjoyed the tales he returned with and he was happy in the knowledge that a little truth prevented over delving into his business.

"Eri! How did you do that?"

"That's what you get when you fall from a roof top, little one."

Eliandor laughed

Eriamas winced again as he pulled his dining suit trousers on.

"You'll have to tell me all about it after dinner. I hear father is keen to impress his new friends, so you can expect him to dig up many of his old stories."

This dinner is going to be painful in more than just the usual manner he thought as he hobbled out of the bedroom.

Session VII: Meeting At The Mudcart

The Mudcart was an extraordinary place even for Mud Row. Nowhere else in Elenkess could you see the diversity that congregated there.

The three companions were immediately struck by the imposing figure of the barman. A po-faced ogre standing almost nine feet tall. Within the dark smokey interior of the inn other exotic and alien beings sat in small groups, drinking and speaking in unfamiliar tongues.

Markus spied Kaladane from the Morencade and headed in his direction. Sitting next to the human was a sight one would see perhaps once or twice in an entire lifetime. A member of the Lizardfolk. It was almost unheard of for these strange and secretive creatures to venture too far from their homelands in the south.

This is odd. what in the name of the gods is this all about. All I'm interested in is getting permission to build the Inn.

***
"So... You're happy for the build to go ahead, as long as the Shalmas have no reservations?" Lugus enquired.

"That is correct, you will need them to agree before you have the full backing of the Count". Kaladane repiled.

"Can the Shalmas be trusted?" Markus ventured.

"You can trust the Shalmas to be demanding, sly and troublesome. Take that how you wish. Kaladane finished.

Session VI: Standing On The Stones, Part II - Markus Duchèsne

The four companions sat huddled in the cramped room above the saloon of the Narwhal.

He doesn't seem like a bad sort, a little ill tempered, but I like his professionalism. He could be a good asset to the group, besides Eriamas hasn't been himself recently and that's worrying-

"I couldn't get the right-hand door open, but I heard something panting on the other side." Eriamas whispered. "the left-hand room was all but empty aside from some bloodied clothes and the stink of piss and shit".

The Bastard sword wielding drunken oaf no doubt. Regardless of whether we're discovered tonight, he'll be in no fit state to pursue. Still, there's the twitchy one and the magic user-

"I'm quite certain that there's a wolf in there" Yaef began. "Although it was difficult to see into the room from the roof across the alley. Be warned, there's someone outside on street level staking out this place. He could be a problem if we need to escape unnoticed".

"I'll go out and take care of him" Eriamas said too eagerly.

"We don't even know who he is Eriamas, let's not start killing people just yet. Besides, We have absolutely no idea who he's connected With!" Markus could barely keep his voice below a whisper.

He's not himself and that's worrying.

Session V: Markus Of The Melorus

Have these people cracked. who in the nine hells ever resolved a dispute over honor by drawing daggers. Is the notion of having honor really that important? I'm grateful I'm only half Riverfolk, half as bonkers as the rest of these -

"Who will challenge me"? Weslin of the Gresling clan scans the crowd, his gaze finally falling on Markus.

Not a chance! Suddenly the insults he made against Mother don't seem quite as offensive as they did.

"I'm your man!" Markus could hardly believe the words spewing out of his mouth. He looks down at the silvery Riverfolk blade clasped in his right hand, the dagger given to him by cousin Raul. Markus barely hears the cheers of approval from the other Meluros. He can feel his muscles twitching with nervous anticipation, but even more apparent is the eagerness to draw blood, first blood! For clan, for prestige, but above all, for retribution.

You can do this... Just don't let him take my ear, or scar my face for that matter. You can do this... Oh gods, who am I kidding...

The Meluros' roared with triumph. "you did it little brother", "You are Meluros afterall".

perhaps I am as crazed as the rest of them...

Out Of Session: The Adept

Through the foggy night, I crept
'cross roof, yard and alley I leapt

Into his bedroom I stepped
The poison blade, I drove as he slept

Out of the window I swept
My feet on the sill below I kept

Away into the night, I wept
Is this me who I now must accept?

Out Of Session: A Twist Of The Knife

I sit up in the dark, the sweat sticks the sheets to my legs. I turn and sip some water in the hope that the boys face will fade from my minds eye. It doesn't. I need rest, but for the last five days I have replayed the moment when the light of his life leaves his young body.
I tell myself that if we hadn't me and my friends may be dead now too, that it if it wasn't me it would have been someone else, someone crueler.
I lie back down, I must sleep, the ships will arrive soon and I will need to be alert and ready... perhaps I need some clerical guidance to stop this haunting.

Session III: The Killing Moon, Part I - Markus Duchèsne

Groem sat across the large mahogany table, his huge belly bulging over the top of his breeches and large damp stains under his arms. Markus noticed a particularly sadistic twinkle in the Goblins eyes today...

***
He couldn't quite believe that he had accepted the job. It was arguably a matter of appearing weak and indecisive in front of his friends, after all Groem was his contact within the Uncles. Besides neither Lugus nor Eriamas had openly objected to the job. Perhaps they were made of sterner stuff, or perhaps they were silenced by the dawning realisation of the horrors which lay ahead. He was certain of only one thing, nothing good was going to come of this.

***
It was agreed, There was to be no unnessary bloodshed. The plan was simple, smuggle them up the Serpent to the village of Merryment. From there they were on their own, homeless, but alive. With any luck it would all be over by morning and as far as the Uncles were to know, the job had been taken care of...

Session I: Stealing Beauty, Part II - Eriamas Delvito

Perched atop a building the pair loaded their bows and fired at the group of zombies below.

"So what do we do until the militia arrives?" Markus asked

Eriamas peered over the edge

Suddenly a zombie, who'd managed to climb half way up the wall lost it's grip and fell to the ground in a heap of rotten clothes and pus ridden flesh.
Eriamas and Markus looked at each other, shrugged and fired another volley into the shambling mass below."

***
"Gold Gold Gold...

Eriamas had been waiting for the others for an hour in this Dwarven local before they'd arrived. Between the singing dwarves and the drunken gnome next to him at the bar he'd grown quite weary. He rubbed his temples.
***
Lugus stood up

"I shall speak to her! "

Picking up his glass of Gnomic liquor he downed the last of it.....

Lugus sat down again....

"Gurgle"

Eriamas turned to Markus.

"Perhaps you should go."

Session I: Stealing Beauty, Part I - Markus Duchèsne

As the three companions sat having breakfast at the Cinnamon loaf, a half crazed artisan approached them, he appeared to be old acquaintance of Lugus' - Lucien 'The Gold' and begged them for assitance. Nothing dangerous he insisted, in fact it seemed so innocuous, they would have been utter fools to decline. Not to mention, there were fifty Lunts in it for the three of them. Fifty Lunts to find a redheaded Beauty and convince her to model for the artist. Easy money, or so it seemed...
***
The redhead was named Zorewyn and apparently she worked in a little alchamists boutique in Bell Forge. It had only taken a Ningy and a little pursuasion to get the information from the patrons of the Rum Dog.

The City of Elenkess and Its Districts