Prymptown Courier v. 4 no. 7

[This was the last issue of the Prymptown Courier. It was discontinued because so much material was winding up on our message board, of which, ironically, nothing survives.]

PRYMPTOWN COURIER

Vol. 4, No. 7 (April 2002)

EDITORIAL

Whew!  A hefty four month delay since my last issue!  Worry not, gentle reader, if you thought you'd seen the last of the South Province campaign.  We've passed our 46th playing session now, and have a healthy crop of 2nd to 5th level PCs to show for it now!  But in some ways it's a different campaign now than it was.  The message boards (which can be found via http://www.geocities.com/southprovboard), that had begun as supplemental to the campaign, is now a large part of it.  So much game play now takes place between monthly live sessions, that the need for the campaign write-ups has been greatly reduced.  Yet, this is no cause for sadness, for I can now be free to revisit the campaign with more literary interest.  I've long wanted, and been encouraged, to flesh out the campaign write-ups into full-fledged fan fiction.  And now I have begun to do so.  Chapter One, taken from our first playing session is done.  How frequently I'll be able to write subsequent chapters, I cannot say.  If it helps, it didn't take me the whole four months you've been waiting for this issue writing it.

Now, I understand that this isn't what everyone may have signed on for when they first started getting the couriers.  You may say, "I've already read all this stuff, so why would I want to read it again only longer?"  And is so, then I can delete anyone from my mailing list.  Likewise, it has been so long that some may have since lost interest in it.  They too, I shall remove if I am so informed.

For the rest, I say enjoy the attached file, and this look back at a game session, long ago, that has spawned my most successful role-playing campaign yet.

LETTERS

The write-up from the last issue of the courier was more detailed than ever, thanks to being composed entirely of material from the message board play.  And I did get e-mails congratulating me on the write-up.  Honest.  Wish I could figure out what I did with them.  Now I can only find two relevant ones to share.

Date:  Wed, 6 Feb 2002
From:  "Merric Blackman"
Subject:  Re: [GREYTALK] South Province Campaign Session 34.62
To:  GREYTALK@MITVMA.MIT.EDU

>Perpegilliam Brown

I haven't mentioned this before, but I'm extremely suspicious about the source of this character's name...

Cheers,
Merric

~Yay, another person noticed!

Date:  Sun, 24 Feb 2002
From:  "Tracy Johnson"
To:  scottenkainen@YAHOO.COM
Subject:  Re: [GREYTALK] South Province Campaign Session 34.57

Request to post your South Province Campaigns on my server.

Although unfortunately, I don't have any of your posts before the subject line reference.
--

Tracy Johnson
Justin Thyme Productions
http://hp3000.empireclassic.com/

~Not the first time he's asked either, but this time I've caved in and given him persmission -- starting with the revised first post attached.

South Province Campaign
"Prymp Keep" - part 1

Cast:
Barada, Neutral male Flannish human mercenary (1st level Fighter).
Vlad Kostitov, Lawful Good male Oerdian human illusionist in service to the guard (1st level
Illusionist).
Hristo Goldmund, Neutral Good male Wesevud ("Central") noniz ex-town watchman and rogue (1st level Fighter/1st level Thief).
Abraham the Radiant, Neutral Good male Oerdian human acolyte of Pelor (1st level Cleric).

Setting: Various locales in the free town of Prymp, along the Ahlissan Coast.

Readying 8, 581 CY.

The day was newly born, and ancient Pelor had not yet climbed into his chariot to cross the heavens, when Abraham the Radiant stirred from his slumber.  The young, idealistic cleric had earned his name's appendage from the curates of Pelor in Almor, who saw great potential in him and the possible hope of spreading the worship of Pelor farther afield into the South Province.  Indeed, it was Cassandra Milnov, a priestess of Pelor whose role it was to oversee Abraham's progress, who was shaking him gently by the shoulder to rouse him from his restful sleep. 

It had not proven difficult for her to win access to the shrine of Pelor in the old part of Prymp, for it had almost single-handedly been her doing in having the shrine constructed.  It was a modest building -- roofless, floorless, with naught but a circular wooden wall between it and the street outside.  In the outer room were the wooden icons of Pelor.  Cassandra had commissioned them, and they were well carved, though not by devout hands.  This would change in time, she comforted herself with that thought.  Here, in the back room, were the extremely modest dwellings of what could only be a pious man. 

This pious man now sat up, rubbed his eyes, and asked, “What is it?  Cassandra?  Back so soon?”

“It is I,” she agreed, “and though my missionary work down the coast is far from done, return I have nonetheless.  I would not have asked this of you otherwise, but the hour is so early that I would not find room at any reputable inn so long before dawn. Would you…be so kind as to give up your room for me just this once?”

Abraham was in no position to refuse her, and so he quickly abandoned his pallet and blanket, and went to lie on the ground in the front room, under the watchful eyes of his idols. 

The second time Abe woke up that day was on his own.  He said his morning prayers to thank Pelor for the blessings of another sunny day, and had barely finished before being visited by a parishioner.  It was the most fervent of all parishioners, a local carpenter named Ned Flandev. 

“Hi diddly ho, Abraham!” he called out cheerily.  “Do you have the time to lead me in prayer this morning?”

Abe could not stand that rampant cheeriness but, as his stomach rumbled, he remembered that Ned did have his uses.  “I would be glad to,” Abe answered warmly, “after you’ve bought me some breakfast.”

Several blocks down the same street was the Tavern of the Grinning Gargoyle.  Above the entrance to the building squat a small stone gargoyle with a wide grin -- hence, the namesake of the tavern.  The tavern inside was a rather plain affair, even a bit of a disappointment perhaps after the ostentatious entryway.  But the tavernkeeper was a friendly man and his food was good.

***

Hristo Goldmund was a queer gnome, or so his neighbors thought.  And he was very lucky that this was all they thought, for many of his neighbors in the seedy Dock District of Prymp were often more inclined to think of people as easy marks for robbing, killing, or both.  Hristo had dreamed of high adventure and fabulous treasures ever since he left the Town Watch to take up
adventuring.  Sadly, not being sure of how to go about finding adventure, Hristo was often forced to content himself with the care of his assortment of laundry.  He looked on his folding and sorting skills with pride. 

This particular morning, for some reason, he felt extravagant.  He collected his meager savings, exited the hostel he called home, and made his way south away from the docks and towards nicer dwellings.  At the Abigail’s Rest Inn, he breakfasted on sausage and biscuits.  He returned home feeling good and full, quite ready to join the washerwomen down by the Beach Stream for his daily laundering. 

Waiting for him outside his room was a human named Gianni the Long.  The gangly man shared with Hristo certain skills that were not laundry-related – skills they had learned together under the tutiledge of that wandering robber and trainer of rogues, Tilwich Tourmaline.  What they shared in common did not make Hristo any more comfortable around this man.

“Hristo!  I was just looking for you,” Gianni said slyly.  Then he waited until Hristo had drawn closer before continuing in a hushed voice, “You know how we’ve talked about hooking up with the thieves’ guild?  Well, I met a contact last night who might be able to help us get in.” 

“Good luck, then!”  Hristo said as he ducked into his room.  Perhaps at one time Hristo had toyed with the notion of joining a guild, but he knew that was not the opportunity for which he’d been waiting.  With a sigh, he started the daily tending of his laundry.

***

Barada rose early to pursue his daily regiment of exercise.  Afterwards, he went out into the town to seek his fortune, as any mercenary fighter would.  Passing by the Old Market, Barada encountered a merchant he knew, Devid the Younger. 

“Barada!” Devid called out.  “Just the man I was looking for.”  Devid proceeded to fill Barada in on some of the details of a business meeting he had that evening.  The other merchants involved needed persuasion that Devid could move merchandise safely through dangerous regions of the province.  He would give Barada two silver Scores for his time if he would just stand there and look persuading.  Barada was accostumed to being used for intimidation, as unusual as it was to see a Flan warrior in South Province.  The pay sounded rather feeble, but Barada had no better offers at present, so he accepted.

***

Vladamir Kostitov had regular employment and was on duty that morning.  He reported to the walled compound known as the Garrison.  While the town watch was based out of Prymp Keep and answered to Laird Seron Tapinov, the town guard was based out of the Garrison and answered to Graf Lopozos Cranden. Vlad was the only illusionist in a small group of invokers and general magic-users who assisted in patrolling Prymp and the surrounding county. 

Vlad made the normal rounds through the Old City of Prymp that morning.  He encountered nothing more unusual than a puppet show in the Old Market.  To think that, had he remained in Hexpools with his talents, he might have been a street performer himself!  But here on the coast he was considered a valuable asset for defense!

***

It was around noon, and Hristo was chatting with a washerwoman when he saw a bard and his entourage stroll past.  The bard was a lightly-tanned man of good bearing and fine countenance.  His light brown hair fell to his shoulders, and he wore a beard very short and neat.  He wore a long, fur-trimmed green cote with long, drooping sleeves.  His hose was tan, and he wore a red feather in his green cap.  He wore a short sword at his side, but held and played a lute in his hands.  The bard and his entourage continued past, like a parade.  At first, Hristo gave it little thought and went back to his laundry. 

***

The bard happened to be on his way to the Tavern of the Grinning Gargoyle, which Abraham was just leaving after a full morning of hearing the carpenter's problems.  The cleric and the bard literally bumped into each other. 

“Pardon me,” the latter said.  “it was all my fault.  Please, allow me to introduce myself.  I am Heironymous Nodd.  Though I had come here only to speak to my friend, the tavernkeeper, and that business is done, do come back in with me and I shall endeavor to compensate you for the jostling with one of the finer beverages that can be found within.”

This was a boon opportunity for the young acolyte, for Abe was eager for news of quests or adventures on which he might go.  “I happen to be an adventurer,” Abe brought up quickly.  “You are a well-traveled bard, no doubt.  Might you know where adventures can be had?” 

Nodd smiled.  “Indeed I do.  Have you ever heard of ...Skull Keep?”

***

Hristo had second thoughts, parted with his laundry, and decided to see where the bard
went.  He tracked the bard by following the sound of his lute playing.  The bard always remained just a few blocks ahead of him.  The more difficult the task proved, the more resolute Hristo was in staying on his trail.  The noniz even paid the toll to enter the Old City.  Finally, he wandered into the Grinning Gargoyle, and found the bard there.  The man was about to begin a tale.  One of the patrons listening to the bard called Hristo over to his table.

***

Abe had mistaken Hristo for another gnome he knew, but covered the embarassing faux pas by inviting the stranger to sit near him anyway.

The bard’s tale was long and lyrical, but the story behind it went as follows:  A century ago, the sorceror Zenopus built a tower on the low cliffs overlooking Relmor Bay.  The cliff face was carved to resemble a giant skull, and it has been rumored since that extensive cellars and tunnels were dug behind the cliff face.  It is also rumored that Zenopus found ancient treasures within the ruins of the old city under Porton that helped him build his tower and carve the cliff face.      Fifty years ago, on a cold wintry night, the wizard's tower was suddenly engulfed in green flames as the top half of the tower blew up.  Several of his servants escaped the explosion, saying their master had been destroyed by some powerful force he had unleashed.  Not long after that, rumors began to circulate that the tower's remains were haunted.  Ghostly blue lights had been seen in the windows, ghastly screams had been heard, and shadowy figures had been glimpsed skulking about the grounds.  No one but adventurers have since gone to the tower. 
    While the bard spun this tale, Vladamir and some of the guardsmen to whom he’d been assigned entered.  They were off-duty, and eager to whet their whistles.  Vlad was known to Abe because Cassandra Milnov was Vlad's sister.  Abe eagerly gestured for Vlad to come join him.  The story of the keep was momentarily forgotten as Abe spoke.

“Vlad, did you know your sister, Cassandra, was back in Prymp?” Abe asked in a hushed voice, so as not to disturb the bard.

“No...I did not,” Vlad replied.  He was sorely puzzled by why his sister would return home and he would only be hearing this from one of her fruity religious friends.  Vlad offered lip service to Pholtus when necessary, but was far from a religious man.  His sister Cassandra was a dear, but her devotion to Pelor made no more sense to Vlad than it did to the rest of the Kostitov family.

***

Barada decided to check out the location for Devid's business meeting before it occured, and the location happened to be the Grinning Gargoyle Tavern.  While Barada was circling around the back, Heironymous Nodd was inside telling how he was once on an expedition of adventurers into Skull Keep.  They had fought giant rats and spiders on two underground levels below the ruins of Skull Keep.

Barada entered the tavern just as the bard was finishing his tale.  Abe, Hritso, and Vlad agreed that they were interested in exploring this keep, but they wanted a strong fighter with them.  Everyone recognized Barada, as he was the only Flannish mercenary in town. They agreed to approach him and ask him to join their expedition for equal shares.

“Sure,” Barada said cooly.  And how!  Equal shares was the best business offer he’d ever been offered.

Nodd had heard this all.  “I wish you luck,” he told them, “and suggest only that you first go talk to the Laird of Prymp, Seron Tapinov, for more information before you go.  Tapinov had been the
magic-user in our party back then, not long before he was elected to office.”  

***

Hristo and Abe agreed to see the laird at once.  Town Hall was a two-story stone building bedecked in large banners bearing Prymp’s colors.  It was the most impressive non-fortified building in town.  The pillored entryway was patrolled by six watchmen.  Frescoes in the hall detailed the town’s humble origins as a fishing village.  After dodging past couriers, courtiers, and assorted businessmen, Abe and Hristo were able to succor an audience with the laird's advisor, Nemis Coraz.  Nemis Coraz was past middle-aged, already with a full grey beard, and almondine eyes.  After hearing them recount the bard's tale, he told them to return the following afternoon to see the laird.

***

Vlad returned to the crowded home of his extended family to find his sister still hadn't been there.  “Out gallivanting about with that fool, Abraham the Radiant,” Vlad's crotchety old mother replied to his enquiry.  “Trying to convert people back to one of the old gods when she should be trying to find a new husband.  And I don’t mean for it to be a cleric, gods forgive me, but she should have a proper husband with property AND profession!” 
His mother’s rants were nothing new, and Vlad listened to them with an unattentive ear.  He saw in the face of his brother, Demetrius, that he too shared some concern over their sister’s whereabouts.  As soon as it was possible to escape from their tempestuous mother, they agreed to look for her at the shrine of Pelor. 
It was not far to the shrine, and sure enough, Cassandra was there.  She wore her white robes with a matching headdress that left only her face visible.  She was with a young woman, dressed poorly, whose features betrayed orcish blood. 
“Cassandra!  What are you doing?”  Demetrius sounded concerned.  As a guardsman for Graf Cranden, his experience with orcs was that they were all murdering mercenaries. 
Vlad’s concerns were still on Cassandra not coming home.  “Where have you been?” he asked.
“I’m sorry,” Cassandra began, “but I have been preoccupied here with the shrine, especially since Abraham has not been here since early this morning.  She related the tale of how she had helped a young half-orc woman named Mora who was poor, homeless, and seeking help.  Upon Vlad's beseeching, Cassandra agreed to come home when Abe returned to monitor the shrine for more such troubled souls.  "In the meanwhile," she concluded, "I must console this poor creature that Pelor has seen fit to send to me."

***

Barada attended the business meeting in a second floor private room in the Tavern of the Grinning Gargoyle.  Devid was speaking with two merchants from the river town of Ilahzdruk. 

"You understand, Devid," one of them said, "that we came here out of concern, and not confidence.  The promises you sent us via messenger were unsatisfactory.  If you wish to renew our contracts -- or see any long term trade outside of Prymp -- you're going to have to start showing you can guarantee safety!"

"Gentlemen," Devid cooed, "do not let isolated events elsewhere in the Province worry you about Prymp.  Prymp is the very bedrock upon which the financial --"

"Razivon was not just an isolated incident," the other merchant interrupted.  "That town fell to Provincial forces just last year after earning the wrath of the herzog.  I can show you some of the rubble from their trade hall..."

"Which is precisely why you need me," Devid countered.  "The guild halls are vulnerable to over-taxation, and even retribution.  You need the flexibility of non-sanctioned merchants like me, along with the stability that can be acquired with suitable..." and here he waved to Barada behind him, "...protection."

The merchants seemed to take notice of the fierce-looking Flan for the first time.  One of them
nodded at Barada and asked, "How many Flan mercenaries do you have?"

"Enough," Devid answered cooly.

When the meeting was over and the two men from Ilhazdruk had left, Devid slumped into his seat and wiped his brow.  Barada stopped posing.

"I hope that bluff holds," Devid said.  "Here is your well-earned fee," he said, giving Barada the handful of silver Score he'd earned.  "Make sure you're around in case I need you again soon."

***

Abraham returned to the shrine soon thereafter.  Cassandra seemed cool, but not upset over his absence.  "Abraham, this is Mora," she said instead, introducing the hideous but waif-like creature huddled by the wall.  She related Mora's story, and what comfort Cassandra had been able to give her in the past half-day. 

Abe, ashamed to take the veiled admonishment from his superior, made the mistake of overcompensating.  "Allow me to atone for my absence, then, by giving this Mora my room here at the shrine.  She may stay here while I am away."

At this, Cassandra grew hot, and scolded him thusly, "You would even think of turning the shrine over to a stranger like that?  What would possess you to think you will need be away from here so long?"

"Forgive me, but I crave to see more of the world, and to find adventure."

"Ah, so that's it, is it?  I will, hesitantly, leave Mora here in your care, so you may see about finding a boardinghouse that will take her.  When I return, we shall talk more of this desire for adventure you claim to have."

Abe did as he was told, though his mind was not in it.   While Mora silently followed him about, his mind was far away, dispatching monsters and claiming their magical treasures in the name of Pelor.  After finding no vacancy at several such houses, and with night approaching, Abe gave at last simply handed Mora two electrum Nobles and sent her off into the night.

Abe returned dutifully to the shrine, but Cassandra did not.  So Abe simply went through his standard evening rituals, ate a small supper alone, and laid down in the back room of the shrine to sleep.  But once again, Abe’s sleep would not go uninterrupted.  This time he was awoken by a
parishoner -- a mercenary by the name of Nicolo.  Nicolo had been to the shrine much of late, seeking advice on whether he should keep looking for mercenary work in a scarce market, or
take regular employment and long commitment in the town watch.  Half-asleep and slightly irritated by the interruption, Abe suggested a third alternative.

“Come with me.  We will see what perils lie on the open road, and vanquish them each in turn.  Fabulous adventure awaits the bold and daring.  Monsters and treasure, adventures both outdoors and underworld -- how could the drudgery of garrison duty compare?”

And to all this, Nicolo stood there looking horrified.  But then his features relaxed, and he said, “Oh, I understand you now!  You were merely testing me.  I see that you have exagerated the dangers of mercenary work to show me which path I should take.  Thank you, Abraham!”

Nicolo left, content.  The acolyte, having lost nothing for the effort but some sleep, sought to remedy that situation with renewed slumber.
 
Readying 9, 581 CY.

Barada was an early riser.  He walked all around the Old City each morning, and passed many a tradesman, laborer, and traveler on its winding streets.  This morn, he crossed the path of a traveler he recognized -- Estophon, the wandering druid of Obad-Hai.  He wore a light brown robe, instead of an embroidered vest as men typically did, and walked with a staff.  His forehead was tall and well-tanned, and his large, expressive eyes were surrounded by deep wrinkles.  A black beard hugged his round face.

“So good to see you again, Barada!”  Estophon greeted him.  “I did not think to meet anyone of the druidic faith so soon today.  This is a boon no doubt placed in my way by Obad-Hai himself.  Just two days past, I was in the village of Vecheld Gesto, and there I encountered a shepherd in
need of a warrior's assistance. And now here I am in the presence of a warrior and, I think, the very one for which this situation calls.”

But Barada was offended, so when he responded he said,“Then your wisdom has fled you this morning, druid, for I am not such a warrior.  I would slay dragons and rescue maidens.  Livestock is not important to me.  Tell your shepherd to arm himself.”  And with that, Barada trudged off.

Afterwards, Estophon clicked his tongue and mused outloud, “Yes, he’ll make a fine candidate...”

***
 
Hristo again left his hostel in the Dock District and payed the toll to enter the Old City.  In the Old Market, he found a traveling weaponseller.  The short, squat old man had a bundle of short swords, but no broadswords.  Hristo had long been looking for some time for just the right broadsword.  He always imagined himself as a daring treasure hunter and explorer, and all he needed to start -- he imagined -- was just the right broadsword.

Hristo sighed.  “I’ll take however many sling bullets you have,” he told the man.

***

Cassandra Milnov had kept busy since returning to Prymp, perhaps purposely avoiding the return home.  But her reunion with siblings at the Kostitov estate was a joyous one that had lasted late into the evening.

Vladamir was glad to have her back, despite his long-held misgivings about her “finding religion” after her husband died.  But there was little time for such ruminations that morning, for Vlad was soon due to join his patrol.  It was a group of many of the same faces Vlad had gone out on patrol with before, though they all remained practically strangers to him.  It was another walk down the same streets, encountering much the same people.  His life, he knew, was dull routine; but he was a patient man, and expected more opportunities in life to come his way eventually. 

Vlad's patrol ran into a band of loitering mercenaries in the street.  The patrol leader was a soldier named Otez, and Vlad knew Otez did not like mercenaries.  It was not uncommon, but this lot looked particularly rough and unpleasant.  Their steel was naked, though at least at the moment they weren’t threatening anyone with their weapons. 

“You there!”  Otez cried out.  “There is to be no loitering in the city streets with drawn weapons.  In the graf’s name, I order you to disperse!”

The mercenaries bristled.  “Is your precious graf going to help you disperse us?  Or did you plan to try it alone?” a particularly brave, or rude, one said. 

“We have you outmanned, outclassed, and we have a magic-user,” Otez responded.  “You can give me an excuse to clap you in irons or cut you down, or just move along.”

The standoff was as tense as it was short-lived.  The mercenaries were not willing to risk the challenge, and backed away.

Vlad had hung back and watched the whole time.  It was his role to lend magical support if a fight had broke out, but he knew his particular talents did not make him a popular choice amongst his fellow officers.  It was invokers they wanted.  Battle mages.  Vlad’s illusions seemed trivial to them.  Again, he reminded himself that he was a patient man.  His chance to shine would come.

***

Cassandra left that morning to check on Abraham at the shrine.  Abe reported how he had left Mora with enough money to get by on.  He left out the detail of leaving her to find her own shelter for the night.  Cass was satisfied with the report and once more left him to tend the shrine alone.  He spent the afternoon cleaning up the shrine, and sweeping out the loose dirt from the packed dirt floor.

Late that afternoon, Abe was kneeling before the altar -- not so he could pray, but so he could dust off the wooden altar and the icons sitting on it.  Just then, a rock sailed through the doorway and struck the altar just over his head.Abe wheeled about in surprise, mixed with anger.  The shrine had suffered vandalism problems several weeks earlier.  The Town Watch had looked into it, but had resolved nothing.

“Pelor willing, I’ll resolve this myself,” Abe said aloud through a fearsome scowl and gritted teeth.  He immediately bolted out the door after the scoundrels.  Abe was angry and determined, but also not quite ready to take on multiple vandals by himself, so he hedged his bets by shouting for the Town Guard every step of the way.  There was only one man fleeing the scene that he could see -- a man in padded armor running at a good head of speed.  Abe ran down the paved street in pursuit of him, dodging the scattered pedestrians in his way.  The chase had proceeded south no more than a half block before the chasee turned down a dirt side avenue.  Abe was hesitatant to leave the busier thoroughfare for the quieter side street, so he stood there and did the only thing he felt safe doing.

“Help!”  he yelled.

***

As luck would have it, Hristo was just north of there, hanging out near the brewery, at the time.  He heard screams and came running to investigate.  He spotted Abraham, the man he’s met at the nearby tavern, acting hysterical.  Hristo, recalling his experience in the Town Watch, put on his most authoritative face and asked, “What seems to be the trouble here?”

“Shrine vandals!”  Abe cried.  “This way!”  An armed gnome wasn’t what he had in mind, but at least he wouldn’t be going it alone if this Hristo followed him.  Hristo, feeling he had nothing better to do anyway, decided to go along with it.  And so the two of them ran down the side street, nearly knocking over an old man. 

“Young hooligans!”  the old man called out after them. 

A ways down the street, they were confronted by three club-wielding men in padded armor who ran out of an alley yelling, "Get the cleric!"

Abe did a mental inventory of his person and realized he did not have any armor or weapons on him.  Discretion became, in his mind, the better half of valor, and he turned and ran. Hristo was non-plussed.  Still, since he couldn’t possibly run as fast as the long-legged cleric, there was nothing to be done but stick it out and try to make the best of the situation.  He produced his sling from his belt and a sling bullet from a pouch at his side.  The three men rushed towards while he was winding up.  Hristo was forced to release too soon and the bullet ricocheted off some walls back the way he had came. 

The annoying old man had followed Abe and Hristo intent on yelling at them again.  He saw Abe run back and pass him.  He was just about to say something when an errant sling bullet hit him in the head and knocked him unconscious.  The three thugs ran over his body, in pursuit of Abraham.

Abe made it back as far as the main street before being struck from behind and sent reeling.  This surely would have been the end of him if not for two amazing coincidences.  Barada just happened to be nearby, and at the same time as Vladamir’s guard patrol was passing by.  Before anyone else could react, Vlad appraised the situation, grabbed a handful of colored sand from a belt pouch, intoned magic words, and made magic signs with his free hand.  Seconds later, a fan-shaped burst of rainbow colors spread out over the three thugs as they hovered over Abe, and stunned all of them. 

“Good work, Vlad,” Otez told his subordinate.  “You lot,” he called to the other guards, angry with them for their slow reactions, “let’s see if you can pick up these three and hold them -- sometime today!”

Barada stepped forward to check on Abe.  He was seriously hurt, but still conscious.  Refusing help, Abe pulled himself up on his feet.  He clasped his holy symbol, called on Pelor, and asked the sun god to heal his wounds.  After that, Abe seemed fine.  Then Abe walked over and asked Pelor to help the old man as well.  The old man got up, with help, and then batted Abe away.  “Get away from me, you trouble maker!”  the old man yelled, and then stormed off.  Barada chuckled at Abe’s expense.

Meanwhile, Hristo had already walked past, trying to look as innocent as possible.  Barada shot him a suspicious glance, but didn’t ask him what he was doing there.  And by then, Vlad’s patrol was already taking their three prisoners back to the Garrison for interrogation.  The three novice adventurers stood there looking at each other. 

“Do you want to go see the laird now?”  Hristo asked Abe.

“Sure.  Why not.”

“Can I come too?”  Barada added.

At Town Hall, Laird Tapinov spoke with them privately.  Seron Tapinov was nearly six feet tall, with reddish-brown hair, a moustache, but no beard.  He wore the fur-lined robes of his office, despite the warm spring weather. 

“I am am fairly sure,” Tapinov continued, “that Skull Keep has little treasure left in it to offer.  But, there was one place we never explored.  The pit.  The pit was in close proximity to the keep, was deeper than we could ascertain, and had never been explored to my knowledge.”

“That sounds promising,” Barada said.

“Do you remember what kind of monsters you had to fight?”  Abe asked.

“Over-sized vermin, mainly,” Tapinov answered, thinking back.  “Rats and spiders.  Nothing of great interest.”

Hristo sat there quietly, thinking about how the laird had his robes washed.

***

Vlad was present as his fellow guardsmen roughed up the three prisoners.  Abel Olsta, one of the officers, finished beating the last of the three prisoners with a sap, yanked him back by his hair, and yelled in his ear, “Confess!”

“Alright, I’ll talk!  We were hired to harass the shrine to Pelor.  He had long black hair, but I don’t know anything else about him -- no, wait!  He always paid in gold, and always came to us, whereever we happened to be when he wanted us.”

“Not very useful,” Abel complained.  “Well, they admitted to the previous vandalism at the shrine...”

“Did you want me to summon the Castellan?”  Otez asked.

“Bother Belkos with a trivial matter like this?  No.  Just give these boys two days in the stocks, followed by exilement from town.  They’ll think twice before they bother a church again.”

Vlad quietly took it all in.  If he had any opinions on how justice was meted out in Prymp, he kept them to himself.

***

That evening, the four adventurers all supped again at the Grinning Gargoyle Tavern.  They were discussing what to do next. 

“The Big Burrow sounds interesting,” Hristo said, using the name he’d coined for the pit.  “And is anyone else here besides me think it’s odd that people have been trying so hard to convince us that there’s no profit to be had in exploring Skull Keep?”

“Those were warnings,” Vlad replied, “and are probably accurate.  Exploring Skull Keep would not be worth our time.”

“Look,” Barada added, “the keep is only a day’s hard march to the west, so it would not be a long expedition to find out is there’s anything to this place or not.”

That night, an adventuring company was formed. 

“What should we name it?”  Abe asked.

“Why don’t we name it after this place,” Barada asked, “since we’re founding it here?  The Band of the Grinning Gargoyle.”

“Oh, I like the sound of that!”  said the tavernkeeper as he passed by.  “I’d wager daring deeds and the like should be good for my business.  So I’d be most pleased, and would gladly spread the word of this company.”

And so it was decided.