Rykus Kilran, a Friend of Orthos and secret spy for the vampire-baron Cortier, meets The Friends in The Mottled Flower. They exchange pleasantries before Rykus offers them passage to Castle Cortier up the river on his long row boat.
The clouds cover the land in shade. A strong wing blows. Two strong men in cloaks, faces covered by hoods, steer the boat through choppy waters. When they emerge onto Lake Odol, they can see the castle sitting high upon a cliff, looking down over the lake. It’s old walls preside over the lake with the unquestioned authority of a tyrant.
On the boat ride, Talari asks Rykus about the enigmatic Baron Cortier- about his reclusiveness and distance. Rykus cannot provide more than the townsfolk have already said, but he assures The Friends that the baron is looking forward to meeting them.
The boat pulls into a collection of houses nestled at the foot of the cliff. The townsfolk watch the boat pull in, but refuse to meet the gaze of any of the passengers. These dour folk are the castles servants, and they disperse as The Friends disembark.
This strange behavior arouses suspicion in Talari, who asks Rykus if he may see one of his silent servants faces. Rykus assures they have sworn a vow of silence (Rykus’ player didn’t know the servants existed until they appeaered and made this up on the spot when questioned, great stuff) and commands a servant to stick out his tongue for proof that they have not been forced into it. Their suspicions abated, The Friends traverse the stone stairs up the hill toward the castle walls.
The rotten portcullis opens with a wave from Rykus, and The Friends move through a plain courtyard featuring nothing but unkempt grass the color of dark emerald and a muddy trodden path towards two large oaken doors. Two servants open the doors and lead The Friends through an oppulent hallway. Candelabras scatter light across banners hanging from dark rafters - the symbol of a knife with a downward knife turned towards it, ready to plunge through its flesh. These banners are mirrored across the hall, framing another set of oak doors. These too open to a kings court in the set up for dining. Two long tables point towards a set of shallow stairs leading to a raised platform. More banners, three either side the hall, hang down from more rafters cloaked in shadow. On the raised platform there stands a long thin table and, beyond it, a stone throne. Sitting in the throne is a man of around 40. White hair slicked back, a black and red tabbard clinging to his chest, a black cape draped from his shoulders and folding under him as he sits, presiding over the court. The tables are piled high with foods of all sorts, turkey, pumpkin, hams, roasted vegetables. Each place is set with delicate silverware, shining polished plates. Five servants, hoods pulled back, sit scattered in various chairs.
Rykus steps forwards and stoops into a deep bow. He announces,
“My Lord, I present The Friends of Orthos.”
Baron Cortier looks down his nose toward the group. His voice is deep and gentle. It bounces off the cold stone walls.
“The Friends of Orthos. Finally, we meet. Welcome to Castle Cortier. I am sure you are famished from your long journey, please,” he gestures a hand to the foot, “Take a seat and eat to your hearts desire.”
The Friends have had a run in with poison before, but their fears are abated when they see the servants eating (though the players are convinced they’ll be somehow immune if the food is indeed poisoned, but they’re good enough to have their characters fears quelled even if theirs aren’t).
In the middle of their meal, Cortier addresses the friends.
“So tell me, it has been some time since I was last in Orthos. What transpires there now?”
The Friends and Cortier have a conversation about The Queen, the beastmen, and their escapades. Cortier mentions Baron Voghtairis name, to which The Friends protest for the name carries a spell that alerts him to utterances of his name. Cortier squashes their fear.
“Voghtairi is not the only one interested in the sorcerous arts. You need not fear for his minor charms here. Talari, you are a magician yourself, are you not? And a purveyor of histories if I am correct. I am afraid my study of history is focused on one particular time. Did you know two-hundred years ago the earth was plunged into a century of darkness. This sunless age was ruled by a frightening tyrant. But I ramble, please accept my apologies. Finding a fellow scholar is rare, especially in these lands. Tell me, what are your areas of study?”
Talari has been studying The Red Realm, an exceptionally rare and hidden field for which lore is incredibly hard to come by. Talari does not tell The Baron of his studies, but instead speaks of vague magical artifacts.
The baron listens with a curious ear. When Talari is finished explaining, he says
“You and the Baron Voghtairi are remarkably similar, you know. Yet you have been positioned as his enemy.”
“Yes,” says Talari, “Voghtairi also wishes to free the neglected arts of sorcery but he has his mind set on domination and control. I would free these arts. Imagine how technology may change if sorcery could be practiced freely.”
Cortier considers this.
“It seems Orthos has not changed. Still, it is a game played between its Barons and Kings, each competing to realise their own vision of the Orthos in their minds. It is a life I am glad to be free of, here on the edge of the borderlands. You do not seem so free of its meddlings.” he pauses, hiding his mouth behind folded hands, thinking. “If you had control of Orthos, what would it look like?”
Some of The Friends are stumped by this question. They’ve never thought about it before.
“I would not wish to rule. It seems a headache” Icorial says after some thought.
“I would promote academia, and set up a university where psionic powers may be studied.” Monkey offers. Cortier is interested in the idea of Psionics, and the conversation briefly becomes about them. Talari brings it back.
“You do not wish to rule Orthos yourself, yet you call us here and ask such questions of us. Forgive my impunity but, if I may ask, why?”
A sharp look comes to Cortiers eyes. The doors to the hall slam shut, The Friends hear the banging of a door bar.
“I do not have my sights of Orthos, but for reasons of my own, I believe and alliance between us is beneficial. I believe all good alliances begin with a show of good faith. You do not know it, but you have already brought something I have been searching for for a long time. I wish to return the favour.”
A door on the side of the chamber opens, and striding through comes Rolf-Hydel-Amecouth. His face is pale, his demeanour calm and cold, his vision distant.
The Friends are shocked, but it is not a happy reunion. Rolf looks in their directions, but he cannot truly see them. He sways to the left and right, reconstructed flesh barely maintaining his life. As they clamour around Rolf, Cortier continues speaking.
“As the barons and kings of Orthos play games, so too do the barons and baronesses of The Divine Court. The mindless churning of feudalism is but a pale imitation. After so many years of the same pattern of tyrants, usurpers, armies and battles, it grows tiring. But the servants of the divine court, their board is not a petty patch of earth, but reality itself. To join their ranks… there could be no higher honor.””
The friends turn toward him. His tone has turned sour. Piercing. His words jab at The Friends.
“The master of the sunless age was a scholar himself. And he penned the most marvelous works of the arcane that has ever graced mankind. He and he alone come the closest to grasping divinity since the saints themselves were risen from the earth.” his brow furrows, his voice growls, “And he threw it all away. For some innane reason known only to himself he refused to harness the power he mastered. But his writings survive. Scattered across the earth, I have brought them together. And now sainthood is within my grasp, but for one fateful ingredient. Sainted blood of the highest purity.” he points at Rolf with irritation.
“You had it within your grasp, and you let it slip across the veil! He is worthless now. Bloodless. But, in an act of what can only be providence, there is another.” he turns his eyes towards Balthazar. “A divine servant who I would rather not have met, but I’m afraid you left me no choice.”
Now The Friends prepare their weapons. Cortier stands.
“In truth, I have no interest in an alliance. I have something much grander in mind. Servants! Bring me his blood.”
At this, the servants at the table begin choking, coughing up blood, and dying. The poison that was in the food revealed, The Friends manage to resist it, except for Talari, who becomes paralyzed as his insides dissolve. A quick touch of Balthazars healing light cures him. He whirls around, pulling ash and bat guano from his belt he traces a thin orange line through the air. At once, a wall of roaring flames explodes upwards in front of Cortier, obscuring him behind flames. This spell, a new addition to his artillery, seems to be too much for him, and the spell rebounds into his lungs. He coughs and sputters smoke, feels himself undergoing a biological change. Every breath he breaths now tastes like ash, his throat burns hot. His spell corruption has morphed his throat and given him the ability to breath fire.
But Cortier is only one of their opponents. Rykus and Rolf, though he seems unwilling, charge into the fray. Talari starts singing his bladesong and leaps into the fray. During the ensuing melee, Cortier crawls up the wall, his snarling face now visible through flickering fire, and transforms into a bat. It flies through flame-licked rafters, swooping down to bite Icoriol.
At the same time, the doors on the left and right of the chamber burts open, and torrents of bats fly into the chamber. They swarm and bite The Friends. (If I was smart, Cortier would have been lost in the swarm and basically turned invisible, that would have been cool).
Rykus is captured, lifted into the air by Monkeys Choke, which restrains him and crushes his airway. Rolf attempts to batter his former allies, but his risen vessel clearly shows some kind of unwillingness, some distant memory of his allies. He hesitates and loses many strikes. Siriel shoots down the chandelier, trapping Rykus underneath. Balthazar wields the power of his copper hand facsimile to pull forth, from the nether realm, the horse that was slain by its previous occupants. The ravenous horse eats a swarm of bats before being killed by Rolf.
After weathering some hits, Cortier flies up to the roof and turns back into his human form. He points at Monkey and utters his charm of domination, stealing Monkeys mind for his own use. Before he can make use of it, Balthazar and Talari follow him to the rafters. Talari utters a spell, but the power rebounds into another corruption. A blizzard bursts forth from him, engulfing Cortier and Balthazar, battering them with hail stones. Cortier loses his spell and, with few places to go, he blasts The Friends still on the ground with a fireball and swoops down into their ranks. Talari cannot follow without battering more of his friends, so he contents himself to cast spells at range. Chaos’ whim is cruel today, and Talaris spell rebounds once again. This time, he completely dissapears along with his blizzard.
Corties’ allies have fallen one by one. Rykus expires, trapped under a chandelier that Siriel’s marksmanship sends falling from the ceiling. Rolf’s vessel was put down by the blizard. The bats lie dead. The room fills with smoke. But Cortier endures. The Friends are at the end of their rope, out of resources and unable to overcome the regenerative power of the vampire lord. Siriel enters a melee but she is exhausted from the prior fight. In a last ditch effort, Balthazar produces The Horn of Angfax, a malevolent demons horn that may give him the power he needs - but at what cost? As he contemplates, Icoriol pulls forth a bundle of White Root and thrusts it into the fire. It burns like incense, produces a white powdery mist. Cortier’s face screws up, a sudden moment of anguish.
“Not that!” he cries. He bears it for as long as he is able, then flees through a door into a further chamber. The Friends consider pursuit, but decide it’s best to fall back. Balthazars divine words command the door to un-bar and be opened. Taking the bodies of Rykus and Rolf, The Friends flee Castle Cortier.
The white root is an item they got ages ago, it acts as Turn Undead as if a 5th level cleric used it. Cortier rolled really low, it was a very last minute saviour type thing. (As I learned later, Cortier actually had a legendary resistance left so he could have resisted it, but that would have been pretty anti-climatic so I’m not mad (I’m not)).
This whole session was about trying to create tone without giving away the fact that Cortier is obviously a gothic vampire lord. They surprisingly didn’t catch on, but afterward they cursed themselves for not knowing. They were also condemning Rykus’ player (who also plays Balthazar) who had concocted the betrayal plan since his entrance like 8 sessions ago.
This is the first time in this game I have put some thought into an encounter arena and the enemy make up, and I did half of a job. I was worried Rykus and Rolf might be strong, but they ended up being quite weak. The swarms of bats were a last minute addition to absorb some hits and they did a decent job but enemies with some more interesting stuff would have been better. I knew Talari had a wall of fire so there were banners and rafters but I needed a better way of tracking fire on the board and knowing what it actually does. Some damage to all within would have been good. The fire did create some interesting tactical advantages for Siriel, who is immune to fire.
Additionally, Talari teleporting out of the arena was a mistake, but it’s all I could think of to be meaingful without just moving him around the arena randomly. Getting rid of his movement would probably have sufficed in retrospect, but it lead to a neat drama moment for the next session when they meet him outside.