The party took a week off from adventuring, and enjoyed the hospitality of House Ghallanda’s Ghallanda Hall, made possible by the Sharn City Watch, as a reward for the party’s efforts in subduing a runaway lightning rail train that had been nefariously aimed at Sharn. In between their revels, they began to explore the vast city, each visiting areas that interested them.
Meeting back in Ghallanda Hall for a quick pint, the manager of this wing of the Hall clues the party in to an ongoing cartography effort and also a little tidbit about Sharn. While Sharn is very much a vertical city, at least 1/3 of each tower building is estimated to be left unpopulated (this space is spread throughout the tower). This is generally due to maintenance pipes needing space, though the manager’s contact also thinks that some vacant spaces may house old dwellings, ancient fortresses, and all manner of secret passages. So, there is a small reward to explore and map these sections, where they are found. Should the party stumble upon any secret passages – they should try to map the area, and bring their findings back to House Ghallanda, who will be the middlemen in the arrangement.
The manager leaves the party to their drinks, but quickly returns, a bit shaken. He needs the help of the party, them being adventurers and all. House Ghallanda is expanding into the nascent whiskey industry in Eberron, embarking on a “Whiskey Business.” They went into full production a while ago, were set to officially open and start selling next week… but something has happened down at the distillery. He gives the party directions and rundown of the distillery layout while the party finishes their drinks and readies their weapons.
Sharn doesn’t have much by way of traditional streets for their pedestrians; towers are connected by bridges, and stairways and paths often wind around the outside of tower to let travelers up and down. The party made their way to the nearby tower with the distillery, and as they looked down, they could see a hole in one of the tower walls, and a rickety-looking ramp protruding from the hole, and barrels being rolled down the ramp to shaggy, bestial-looking men in a different tower. Shadowale surmises that the party might be about to face the Daask, a brutal, new arrival to the criminal underworld in Sharn.
The party, consisting of Turnin the human monk, Kyllar the human Wizard, Rhogar the dragonborn fighter, Shadowale the halfling rogue, and Gnofulk the gnome barbarian, quickly made their way to the main entrance of the distillery, but found the door closed. A friendly knock and test push signaled that it was locked. As Rhogar and Gnofulk moved to bash down the door, Kyllar remembered that Shadowale is a roguish halfling, and could probably pick the lock. Reluctantly, Shadowale agreed, and after a few fumbled, succeeded in picking the lock.
The doors swung open, and an array of bestial men, led by a big orc clad in dented plate, faced them, taunting the party that it took them so long to pick the lock.
Turnin Glassjaw stepped forward, quarterstaff twirling in a demonstration of skill. “Where’s the whiskey?” He demanded, followed almost immediately by “What is whiskey anyways? Tell me what whiskey is!” The orc chuckled and spoke in broken common declaring that they have the whiskey now, and they aren’t sharing it.
Turnin decided enough was enough, and vaulted forward attempting to grapple the orc, who was, in all metagamed likelihood, literally twice as strong as Turnin. Failing to grasp the orc effectively, Turnin then decided to head butt the orc; right in his plate-clad head.
Turnin’s actions proved to be too brazen however, as before the rest of the party could intervene, the thugs struck, hitting the monk with a multitude of blows and felling him. The party scoffed at their monk. Gnofulk, Rhogar and Shadowale charged, and traded vicious blows with the brutes while Kyllar hid in cover near the entrance, peeking around the door frame to cast the occasional spell. As the scuffle starts to push deeper into the distillery, Kyllar closes and locks the main behind him.
At the periphery of consciousness, Turnin hears the commanding bark of Rhogar, which allows the monk to rally, drawing him to his feet while shouting nonsense about swinging and hitting. As the orc boss loses ground, he yells for help, and a trio of bestial men emerges from a far section of the floor. Vicious blows are traded, and while the bestial men are slain, Rhogar does not emerge unbloodied.
The party catches their breath, and bandages what minor wounds they can while surveying the level. They had entered through the main entrance, into a long, wide hall with a small gift shop and reception area; to the left is a pair of threshers and grinders for processing the grains, which are now dented and broken (presumably by the Daask thugs); at the far end of the room on the party’s right is a small crank-operated elevator and a staircase going down…
The party flirts with the idea of brazenly using the elevator platform to enter the lower floor in style… but eventually decides to creep along the staircase. Not hearing anything, they descend further, fanning out from the steps when they reach the lower level, talking freely.
They notice whiskey spilled along the floor, and from out of the shadows steps two pairs of bestial men, congratulating each other on their superb work in smashing the vats.
Turnin again steps in front of the rest of the party, attesting that the party has slain the compatriots of these beasts, and if the brutes promise to leave the whiskey (whatever it may be), they are free to leave unharmed. The beasts are confounded by the offer; each pair turns to confer quietly with their partner, gesturing confusingly to Turnin, then the spilled whiskey, then back to the monk.
Having the offer rebuffed due to confusion on the other side, Turnin prepares to strike. Having learned his previous lesson, Turnin Glassjaw lets loose both a quip and a dart against the hairy brutes, but both fail to hit.
Kyllar steps forward, and releases a massive fireball, which due to precision aiming, engulfs both ruined vats and all of the bestial men in a huge gout of devastating flame. While no foes were killed outright and the liquid failed to ignite, all the foes are very badly burned, and the party sets about finishing them off as they stagger about. Gnofulk charges in, ending a pair beasts with a pair of quick swings of his magical axe; Shadowale mercilessly cuts one down, and Turnin skips forward, swinging his staff in a vicious uppercut, catching the last beast in the chin, lifting him off his feet and into the wreckage of a wounded vat, where the brute’s cranial horns catch on the metal. Turnin shouts something about striking.
The party investigates the rest of the floor, finding a trail of destruction and more spilled whiskey in the various stations of the distillation process. Soon they come to another pair of doors, which open freely, revealing dozens of empty racks, and a familiar-looking hole and ramp. After a very quick backtrack by Shadowale to make sure the crank elevator worked, the party walks down the ramp and into the neighboring tower.
The ramp leads down into a room and ends in a large pile of rags and debris, presumably used to cushion the barrels as then ended their trip. As the party enters this space, they see a cohort of goblins cackling and rolling a barrel away, and two pairs of bestial men guarding the room’s exits. The party moves to strike.
Kyllar casts a powerful Sleep spell on the pair of beasts to the right of the party, but barely able to make one drowsy enough to curl up and take a nap. The rest of the party focuses on the left pair, advancing and trading powerful strikes. A previously unseen door opens, and an orc steps out, demanding to know what all the racket is about. Kyllar ends the non-sleeper to their right, and the party quickly surrounds and overwhelms the orc. As Gnofulk’s axe cleaves the orc, he notices a small pouch tied to the belt, and gestures toward it. Shadowale snatches up the pouch quickly and greedily, and finds a labeled potion of Feather Fall. Not being booze or coin or good loot, Shadowale quickly becomes disinterested and tosses the potion over his shoulder, where it is caught by Gnofulk.
As the party begins to debate which path to take to follow the whiskey, Shadowale remembers the sleeping beast man, and drags him more into the center of the room, declaring that he needs to practice “assassination”. Against all manner of ethical arguments Shadowale plunges the Derpa-Dirk deep into the beast man’s chest-
-and there is a shriek from the magical blade and a gout of flame as the beast man’s body is incinerated, replaced by a fully awake fiery Efreet, who howls unintelligibly and releases gouts of blue flames as he is released into this plane of existence.
Shadowale is thoroughly surprised and wounded, but the party quickly regains their composure and moves to surround and slay the flaming djinn, who continues to howl unintelligibly for a few more seconds before winking out of existence in a burning explosion. Badly singed, the party looks around, curses the dirk, and tries to catch up with the stolen whiskey, traversing some cramped hallways…
One path from the ramp room leads through a few other utility rooms and eventually to a narrow, essentially hidden exit, which would lead the party out onto one of this tower’s walkways. The other path is found to lead to another group of utility rooms, one of which has another hole in the wall, leading to a sheer drop outside. The party deduces that the whiskey is gone; either through liberal uses of Feather Fall potions or simply rolled/carried out into the bustling city skyways. Crestfallen at the thought of losing good whiskey, the party pushes around the corpses of the brutes, and is able to determine that Shadowale’s hunch was right; the thugs have etchings on their armor or tattoos on their persons, displaying their allegiance to the Daask criminal organization.
As the party treks back through the distillery, the Sharn City Watch arrives with a few representatives of House Ghallanda. The latter are able to convince the Watch that the party was indeed sent by the House itself, and are not actually the perpetrators themselves. While all the barrels of both whiskies (“Rye Not” and “Bour-bon Voyage”) are still gone, the brutes didn’t steal any of the trade secrets on distillation, and Ghallanda might be able to save their whiskey business venture in the future. Additionally, the party proved to themselves that secret places do exist in Sharn, and they can provide significant advantages...
Meeting back in Ghallanda Hall for a quick pint, the manager of this wing of the Hall clues the party in to an ongoing cartography effort and also a little tidbit about Sharn. While Sharn is very much a vertical city, at least 1/3 of each tower building is estimated to be left unpopulated (this space is spread throughout the tower). This is generally due to maintenance pipes needing space, though the manager’s contact also thinks that some vacant spaces may house old dwellings, ancient fortresses, and all manner of secret passages. So, there is a small reward to explore and map these sections, where they are found. Should the party stumble upon any secret passages – they should try to map the area, and bring their findings back to House Ghallanda, who will be the middlemen in the arrangement.
The manager leaves the party to their drinks, but quickly returns, a bit shaken. He needs the help of the party, them being adventurers and all. House Ghallanda is expanding into the nascent whiskey industry in Eberron, embarking on a “Whiskey Business.” They went into full production a while ago, were set to officially open and start selling next week… but something has happened down at the distillery. He gives the party directions and rundown of the distillery layout while the party finishes their drinks and readies their weapons.
Sharn doesn’t have much by way of traditional streets for their pedestrians; towers are connected by bridges, and stairways and paths often wind around the outside of tower to let travelers up and down. The party made their way to the nearby tower with the distillery, and as they looked down, they could see a hole in one of the tower walls, and a rickety-looking ramp protruding from the hole, and barrels being rolled down the ramp to shaggy, bestial-looking men in a different tower. Shadowale surmises that the party might be about to face the Daask, a brutal, new arrival to the criminal underworld in Sharn.
The party, consisting of Turnin the human monk, Kyllar the human Wizard, Rhogar the dragonborn fighter, Shadowale the halfling rogue, and Gnofulk the gnome barbarian, quickly made their way to the main entrance of the distillery, but found the door closed. A friendly knock and test push signaled that it was locked. As Rhogar and Gnofulk moved to bash down the door, Kyllar remembered that Shadowale is a roguish halfling, and could probably pick the lock. Reluctantly, Shadowale agreed, and after a few fumbled, succeeded in picking the lock.
The doors swung open, and an array of bestial men, led by a big orc clad in dented plate, faced them, taunting the party that it took them so long to pick the lock.
Turnin Glassjaw stepped forward, quarterstaff twirling in a demonstration of skill. “Where’s the whiskey?” He demanded, followed almost immediately by “What is whiskey anyways? Tell me what whiskey is!” The orc chuckled and spoke in broken common declaring that they have the whiskey now, and they aren’t sharing it.
Turnin decided enough was enough, and vaulted forward attempting to grapple the orc, who was, in all metagamed likelihood, literally twice as strong as Turnin. Failing to grasp the orc effectively, Turnin then decided to head butt the orc; right in his plate-clad head.
Turnin’s actions proved to be too brazen however, as before the rest of the party could intervene, the thugs struck, hitting the monk with a multitude of blows and felling him. The party scoffed at their monk. Gnofulk, Rhogar and Shadowale charged, and traded vicious blows with the brutes while Kyllar hid in cover near the entrance, peeking around the door frame to cast the occasional spell. As the scuffle starts to push deeper into the distillery, Kyllar closes and locks the main behind him.
At the periphery of consciousness, Turnin hears the commanding bark of Rhogar, which allows the monk to rally, drawing him to his feet while shouting nonsense about swinging and hitting. As the orc boss loses ground, he yells for help, and a trio of bestial men emerges from a far section of the floor. Vicious blows are traded, and while the bestial men are slain, Rhogar does not emerge unbloodied.
The party catches their breath, and bandages what minor wounds they can while surveying the level. They had entered through the main entrance, into a long, wide hall with a small gift shop and reception area; to the left is a pair of threshers and grinders for processing the grains, which are now dented and broken (presumably by the Daask thugs); at the far end of the room on the party’s right is a small crank-operated elevator and a staircase going down…
The party flirts with the idea of brazenly using the elevator platform to enter the lower floor in style… but eventually decides to creep along the staircase. Not hearing anything, they descend further, fanning out from the steps when they reach the lower level, talking freely.
They notice whiskey spilled along the floor, and from out of the shadows steps two pairs of bestial men, congratulating each other on their superb work in smashing the vats.
Turnin again steps in front of the rest of the party, attesting that the party has slain the compatriots of these beasts, and if the brutes promise to leave the whiskey (whatever it may be), they are free to leave unharmed. The beasts are confounded by the offer; each pair turns to confer quietly with their partner, gesturing confusingly to Turnin, then the spilled whiskey, then back to the monk.
Having the offer rebuffed due to confusion on the other side, Turnin prepares to strike. Having learned his previous lesson, Turnin Glassjaw lets loose both a quip and a dart against the hairy brutes, but both fail to hit.
Kyllar steps forward, and releases a massive fireball, which due to precision aiming, engulfs both ruined vats and all of the bestial men in a huge gout of devastating flame. While no foes were killed outright and the liquid failed to ignite, all the foes are very badly burned, and the party sets about finishing them off as they stagger about. Gnofulk charges in, ending a pair beasts with a pair of quick swings of his magical axe; Shadowale mercilessly cuts one down, and Turnin skips forward, swinging his staff in a vicious uppercut, catching the last beast in the chin, lifting him off his feet and into the wreckage of a wounded vat, where the brute’s cranial horns catch on the metal. Turnin shouts something about striking.
The party investigates the rest of the floor, finding a trail of destruction and more spilled whiskey in the various stations of the distillation process. Soon they come to another pair of doors, which open freely, revealing dozens of empty racks, and a familiar-looking hole and ramp. After a very quick backtrack by Shadowale to make sure the crank elevator worked, the party walks down the ramp and into the neighboring tower.
The ramp leads down into a room and ends in a large pile of rags and debris, presumably used to cushion the barrels as then ended their trip. As the party enters this space, they see a cohort of goblins cackling and rolling a barrel away, and two pairs of bestial men guarding the room’s exits. The party moves to strike.
Kyllar casts a powerful Sleep spell on the pair of beasts to the right of the party, but barely able to make one drowsy enough to curl up and take a nap. The rest of the party focuses on the left pair, advancing and trading powerful strikes. A previously unseen door opens, and an orc steps out, demanding to know what all the racket is about. Kyllar ends the non-sleeper to their right, and the party quickly surrounds and overwhelms the orc. As Gnofulk’s axe cleaves the orc, he notices a small pouch tied to the belt, and gestures toward it. Shadowale snatches up the pouch quickly and greedily, and finds a labeled potion of Feather Fall. Not being booze or coin or good loot, Shadowale quickly becomes disinterested and tosses the potion over his shoulder, where it is caught by Gnofulk.
As the party begins to debate which path to take to follow the whiskey, Shadowale remembers the sleeping beast man, and drags him more into the center of the room, declaring that he needs to practice “assassination”. Against all manner of ethical arguments Shadowale plunges the Derpa-Dirk deep into the beast man’s chest-
-and there is a shriek from the magical blade and a gout of flame as the beast man’s body is incinerated, replaced by a fully awake fiery Efreet, who howls unintelligibly and releases gouts of blue flames as he is released into this plane of existence.
Shadowale is thoroughly surprised and wounded, but the party quickly regains their composure and moves to surround and slay the flaming djinn, who continues to howl unintelligibly for a few more seconds before winking out of existence in a burning explosion. Badly singed, the party looks around, curses the dirk, and tries to catch up with the stolen whiskey, traversing some cramped hallways…
One path from the ramp room leads through a few other utility rooms and eventually to a narrow, essentially hidden exit, which would lead the party out onto one of this tower’s walkways. The other path is found to lead to another group of utility rooms, one of which has another hole in the wall, leading to a sheer drop outside. The party deduces that the whiskey is gone; either through liberal uses of Feather Fall potions or simply rolled/carried out into the bustling city skyways. Crestfallen at the thought of losing good whiskey, the party pushes around the corpses of the brutes, and is able to determine that Shadowale’s hunch was right; the thugs have etchings on their armor or tattoos on their persons, displaying their allegiance to the Daask criminal organization.
As the party treks back through the distillery, the Sharn City Watch arrives with a few representatives of House Ghallanda. The latter are able to convince the Watch that the party was indeed sent by the House itself, and are not actually the perpetrators themselves. While all the barrels of both whiskies (“Rye Not” and “Bour-bon Voyage”) are still gone, the brutes didn’t steal any of the trade secrets on distillation, and Ghallanda might be able to save their whiskey business venture in the future. Additionally, the party proved to themselves that secret places do exist in Sharn, and they can provide significant advantages...
No comments:
Post a Comment