19.s3.e6: “We Killed a Goth Kid, Guys”
In which The Horde leaves no trace, loses face, and blows this place
Our DM is Sasha Rose Hansen
The players, in alphabetical order:
Carbry - Bryn Ziegler
Gary - Rebecca Michelson
Renora - Tori Chancellor
Spencer Charlemagne - Jacob Earl
Tongs - Grayson Abele
We’re produced by Jacob Earl
Our theme music is “Rathgars Theme” and is available through LateMoonRecords.com
Tune in next week at RathgarsHorde.com and as always, we may be cursed, but I promise will make it through alive.
We woke up on top of the Drexel museum, surrounded by dust and skeletons that I am pretty sure are powdered adventurers. The necromancer‘s cloak turned out to be some kind of theatrical supply garment, and the windows don’t open. I called the elevator and it came – the objects that tried to kill us yesterday were now limp and lifeless so we just sort of pushed them out onto the floor and took the lift back down to the 3rd floor where we’d pushed past some paintings earlier – yesterday, I guess.
The lights were flickering – the magic here was clearly fading but one painting, a landscape, in the center of this diagram here, drew my attention
The painting was of a hill in the foreground with a tree, and in the distance an ocean with some menacing fog slowly rolling in. The golem wanted to touch it but my previous experience had shown that it had some kind of, encompassing magic, like a gateway. So the golem chained me to him and I touched the painting; it was very weird. There was almost no resistance from the painting itself, my hand passed right through, but once I reached a certain depth I couldn’t go back, I was overbalanced and I was falling in.
I couldn’t hear or see anything inside, but I don’t know if that’s because it was really dark or what because once my head was inside my connection with Harold was lost, at that point Harold was at the demon’s feet. I could feel the wind on my face, but it didn’t smell like anything. Then I was back in the real world and I could see through Harold again and I was sitting on the ground. The painting was frozen, and one of Dad’s ships was sailing towards us on the horizon. I hope I didn’t trap my Dad in a painting.
Moving through the rest of the exhibits there were some, barely till living, stuffed animals the Giant spoke to that apparently had a lead on “Thunderbirds” they live int he mountains, maybe in Ravina. Once the Mage was dead his power over this building quickly faded, nothing else tried to eat me or called out as a problem. We stayed awhile but I had my appt. so I headed back to the rich man’s bane wherein he bartender handed me a card with “The beggars Guid” written on it. As I was walking out the Giant and I ran into each other & I contracted their service. They were not, particularly, excited about going to bully some beggars into giving the monks money back, but the came anyway.
Turns out Sdelka doesn’t have a thieves gild, or if they do they do the beggars guild doesn’t know about it. They denied everything and proved resistant to intimidation, and gave me the cold shoulder. Not only that but the front-desk person seemed to believe that intimidating a member of their guild was a crime worthy of giving HER the moral high ground, which I doubted, but without any kind of proof I had to leave. So the giant and I hit up the Night Market
The night market, by the way, coolest place in this whole world. Nothing so far has compared to when they start lighting the lamps as the sun goes down and then going into a tent and buying a fuckin magic pair of gloves or something. We picked up our hot new duds and I picked up an atlas of the stars for the monk. The stars here are all different and her people are all about looking up at the sky, so I got her a book like the kind by which one navigates a ship. Hopefully that gets her off my case.
When we got back everyone was all over the place and then the door to the room I was trying in was locked ( by the monk, it turns out) bastard had that cop over and locked us out of one of the rooms, so all four of us slept in the other little room. That sucked.
The next day we set off to collect our money from the oligarchs – the guard that bilked us seemed scared now which is good, he also didn’t charge us anything now that we’re wearing new clothes, which seems unfair. Fuck that officer holland im gonna write a letter to his boss
The queen of the cops claims to be anti- corruption but her minions an extortionist? Pretty fuckin shady. Anyway the oligarch finished out our contract, its nice getting paid for a job for a change. She said she was missing “Someone’s ancestral sword” but for once we really didn’t know where it was.
We then spent the next day or so getting our supplies in order – I got some sick gloves and some rope and we considered where to go next. The current thinking is that we’ll head to this volcano nearby because it’s called someone forge and we got two metalworkers in the group, then head down the mountains looking for Thunderbirds until we hit Mayak city, taking a note from the Ravin Researcher.
I’ve been considering ways to speak to Harold. The giant can speak to animals almost, preternaturally, but either cannot or refuses to teach me the secret. The Bard left me this instrument, and bardic magic can be learnt but I dont know where to start really. I wish my Mom was here, she’d know a good bard spell to do. To that end I’ve been thinking about my mom, if Corellon is essentially just a real guy, who is simply someplace else, and people pray to him for guidance, can I pray to my mom for guidance? She’s not dead and mostly people pray to the dead, but elves never really die so by extension all elven gods are alive and simply someplace else. It may only work with elves, but I do not want my dad’s help. But Mom would know how to translate this bardic focus into speaking with my little buddy. The other extant option is to ask the Demon for some kind of, magic jewelry that has that power imbued in it. I’ve never seen the demon use this power, to speak with animals, but I wouldn’t mind a cool earring.