Friday, February 19, 2021

Getting His House in Order

 It has been several weeks since the Magician, Riverborn Scamandros, last ventured into "the Complex" (a somewhat disastrous occasion), and longer yet since he led an expedition in pursuit of the Imperial Mother's his own designs exploring the Great Cavern. ... Even longer since a dispute over a book, and since the Magician's own outlay of cash and capital to create the humble homebrewed wine-shop Riverwine, located in Old Orm near the Athenaeum of the Dying Sun.

Alas! after initial enthusiasm, the place was allowed to languish, between Scamandros' slow recovery from his bout of the Yellow Fever--and after that, his stint as captive within the Complex, "guest" of the Imperial Mother herself! For a time, the Magician seemed often distracted, and with only Kiddo to maintain the stock (wiping dust off old bottles that continued to not sell), the institution suffered.

But after paying his double-tax of 1) a crate of autumn's young elderberry wine, cinammon-spiced fall apple wine, and classic mead, to Orm's Year-End celebrations (and alas! not participating, being low on funds); and 2) delivering a copy of his personal treatise on the Soothill Gnomes' history and legal claims to inheritance of "the House of the Fathers, titled τραχεις τῶν τοῦ καρβονωλόφου γνωμῶν  (Deeds of the Soothill Gnomes); Scamandros endeavored with the coming of the new year to reinvigorate his sidelined projects.

To this end, he begins with the hanging of the old crown of cherry blossoms from last year's celebration of the vernal equinox at the threshold of the humble Riverwine in hopes that its presence may come to some fruition of new beginnings.

Thereafter, he begins organizing some of his outlaying interests:

Firstly, he directs Kiddo to continue with the copying out of the portfolio of strange Elvish notes and drawings retrieved from the Complex and housed at the Athenaeum, if it is not already complete. The project could have been completed weeks ago--if perhaps Kiddo were diligent enough to have kept at it, even while Scamandros moped about! If more work is needed, he suggests that they take turns at the work, considering that Kiddo still has yet to learn her first second level spell! And perhaps, if nothing else, he can finally teach her one of his own (ESP in particular, if so).

Secondly, he renews his aspirations to make something of Riverwine. In this, he attaches a note to a crate of wine that has been set aside: "τόις ἀδελφόις" (for the Brothers), remembering his commitment to get it down to the Brewtent. Next, he essays to the market to purchase further brewing vessels, many pounds of honey, and rising yeasty dough from the bakers, and begins a fresh batch of mead to be ready in early spring (50 gold spent).

Having done this, he also organizes a proper set of prices, rather than relying on mere haggling as was done before (that, and allowing "credit" but failing to follow up with debitors to retrieve money!):

Riverwine's Finest Country-Wines and Meads

  • Honeywine (classic mead, year-round) 5 sp / pint
  • Dandelion (spring) 10 gp / bottle
  • Rhubarb (summer) 1 gp / bottle
  • Blackberry (summer) 5 gp / bottle
  • Rosehip (autumn) 10 gp / bottle
  • Crabapple (autumn) 1 gp / bottle
  • Elderberry (autumn) 12 gp / bottle
  • Redcurrant (autumn) 10 gp / botle
  • Cinnamon-Spiced Apple Wine (winter) 5 gp / bottle
  • Mulled Wine (winter, in-house only) 4 sp / mug
  • Mulling Spices 1 sp / packet
"Not everything guaranteed in stock. Ten times five and twenty for the vessel with the pestle."

Perhaps overly ambitious, but it serves as a reminder of all that he can brew.

Thirdly, he returns to the Burning Witch, from which he has been absent a little while, and begins again to listen to the stories and rumors that always swirl about the place, even as does the wine. He wonders greatly at the tale of loss and being lost along the Twilight Shores!--and though greatly does he wish to return thence, nevertheless he begins attempting to gin up interest in the Great Cavern as before.

"There's a whole jungle down there! Just think of the wondrous fruits that must grow in its vastnesses. Think of the tropical wines we could make--the trees we could tap for their sap to make palm-wine! Or even just to sell here in the market, the kind of fruits that only galleys to the distant equator might possibly deliver! And the psilerium--whatever wondrous element that is--we must return thence! To adventure!" And he raises a cup once more, eager to return to the Complex!

Sunday, October 11, 2020

Certain Notes Scribbled and Forgotten at the Bar of the Burning Witch

 Where are they?

Joined another expedition into the Complex to seek the Pool of Life to examine the dragon guarding the Imperial Mother's "territory" sanctum ... Prosperity Sphere.

Dogmouth wanted to free it [the dragon], claiming to abhor slavery. Bard Fancy, ever eager for another delve, was hanging around the Old Witch; and the Vat-Spawn Copra Kaan, who sought out Crannoc (and myself) to ask help for an upcoming venture to accompany those of the Dun Crow to deal with Valtropis who must be destroyed a certain Sorcerer King--still controlling the Pool of Life? Where did they go?

Must keep things straight, stop agitating. It's hard to concentrate. is it the poison?

It burns! Smaugma knows it! It's hard to think straight. Probably the new barkeep. She must be serving stiffer stuff, I'll have to cut back. But not just yet.

Anyway, the dragon wasn't very forthcoming. She's unhappy guarding. Or is that unhappy? Glared at my branded hand, anyway. I tried to point out that I was unwilling to receive the Mother's mark, but, uh ...

I still haven't delivered that deed to Big Phreeta. I don't know where they went.

Well, anyway, we dis-covered the Imperial Mother's Arena in our explorations; and probably the combatants too. Copra Kaan seemed very intent on staring them down, even though they were in glass boxes.

Meanwhile, the Brothers seem to be Fancy's especial bane in the Complex. Erasing his markings around that trap that Kiddo swears will cut a hob in half ... Mako will tell you about it ... Yeah, and I bet they've washed away his "Jerks Inside" graffiti too. Must destroy Valtropis They interrupted us ...

Anyway, Dogmouth actually saw her! I pity envy his vision of her sagging flesh wondrous beauty!! We stumbled into her (her very own!) bedchamber, wondrously adorned, and he (Dogmouth) did reconnoiter a certain passage, only to come back to us pallid and paralyzed. I imagine only such a sight of the goddess hag herself in her exquisite nakedness could cause a man to freeze up like that ... I remember her on the throne ... her voice burns, her eyes burn, her skin! 

I've got to seek out the Golden Goggle. I've heard they've moonshine. I need something stronger than what's here at the Old Witch ...

Wednesday, September 30, 2020

Doggerel Left at the Bar of the Burning Witch

A stair in Orm-That-Was may lead you down

To places long unlooked for save by ilk

Of Soothill and surround--na Egra folk--

Unless ye be one seeking gold's renown,

Aye, such as we from Burning Witch's eaves

Departed--Fancy, Crannoc, many-eyed

Abraxis, and myself Scamandros-hight

(and Kiddo too)--in seek of Zotul's naves,

Who liberated Ankhegs' chit'nous shells,

Then sought and pressed the trice for deeper hells,

& 'hind doors adamant discovered ichors reeking

Acid, seeking flesh to burn, while sneaking,

Darkling, grays and devils (ven'mous fell!)

Attacked--but we with spells and fire-nets wreaking

Laid to rest our foes, but ay! what next?

Scamandros, pricked by fang of devil-bairn

Reeled pale as one should need a burial cairn--

'Til Fancy, soother of batrachian breast

Command his toad vampiric blood to draw,

And sich corruption in Scamandros' veins,

Then purge the poison from its gulping maw

While I from Death's Door gasping hencely came--

Thus I this verse to Swamp-born Fancy dedicate

(and twenty gold); Were't not for him, I'd passed that Gate.

Wednesday, August 12, 2020

Scamandros to Big Freeta, a letter

 Scamandros to Big Freeta of the Rootless,


Nigh five weeks have passed since I came before you with the hope to reconcile your old claims to the Halls of the Ancient Fathers and the present situation for you within those halls.

You asked two things of me in hope for your deliverance from the straits of hardship into which you and the Rootless have been thrust:

First, to deliver a letter from you to the Imperial Mother, seeking a reconciliation between your people, their ancient claims, and her "imperial" airs;

Second, you gave me a certain amount of gold to acquire insect repellent in the markets of Orm, thus to shield your people from the bloodsucking swarms that hound you, there in the depths of the Ancient Halls.

Allow me quickly to dispose of the second question: Bartamus Fludge, proprietor of said repellent, has not since returned to Orm, and thus have I not spent anything given me for the sake of acquiring that repellent. Therefore, I return the gold, not even a penny touched; and further, I would have you know that I have embarked on a process of research and manufacture myself, in order to create a salve of equal potency against the insectile devils. I hope soon to be able to provide you with a supply that will secure you against the bloodsucking swarms crafted by my own hand.

As to the first question, it may also be a means of deliverance from the horrible insects: for the Imperial Mother has granted you and your kin vassalage, that is, the possession for yourselves of a certain territory within the Halls of the Ancient Fathers in return for your fealty. This "holding", centering around a so-called "Pool of Life" (as named by my comrades), was formerly held by a rebellious sorcerer-king, now dispossessed and exiled (I do not know the particulars of his fate).

This vassalage seems not of little importance to me, centering around the aforementioned Pool; it seems indeed to possess strange power over the vagaries of life itself. And let me also say that I belief this "fief", as it were, should be somewhat secure against the foul insects that plague you, as the sorcerer-king and his minions who once held it were able to keep it secure against the swarms for themselves.


Now, as to how this offer of the "fief" and attendant "vassalage" came to pass, allow me to explain.

In the company of my associate Journeyman Crannoc (and his raptor-retainer, Plumes); Wolfgang the swordfighter; Betina the Blind (and an amazon hireling); the Bard Fancy and his cat-and-dog companions; and GaWoosh, Champion of Gnomes; we descended into the Halls of the Ancient Fathers seeking the Imperial Mother to deliver your letter and seek resolution of your claims.

We passed a strange chamber containing a one-eyed gaoler abusing (demonic?) snake-tailed women of many arms with a magical flail. He helpfully gave us directions to the Imperial Mother's territory; alas, our progress was impeded by a trap that ended with an arrow through the heart of Plumes, instantly killing the huge raptor.

A detour was agreed on--to seek the Pool of Life, and attempt to restore Plumes to full verve within its depths. It was explained to me that certain mercenaries once employed by us had observed the servants of the sorcerer-king who had possessed the Pool dipping comrades into its waters to restore them from death, and had thus restored several of their own ranks by imitation. (Such is the strange power over which you might soon hold fief).

The Pool was quickly come by; Plumes dipped into it; and lo! the terror bird came forth, though a little daft for the experience of death.

Thence we returned to our purpose, seeking the Mother. Through twists and turns, we came to a library containing certain of her servants; they directed us to her throne room itself; and therefore we came before the great Mother in all her regal glory, flanked by Imperial guards with the regal heads of great lions.

I presented your case, in conjunction with Crannoc and Betina; unfortunately, the grandeur of the Imperial presence intimidated GaWoosh, and he offered the Mother insolent reply. From her throne, she ordered him reprimanded, but I took the reprimand myself, I being he envoy, and he coming along at my behest (you may see the result of the reprimand in the black eye I still bear; I find it unwise to insult a ruler upon her throne).

Despite the proffered insolence; and I hope in large part because of our arguments for your people, the Imperial Mother thence relented to offer you the terms presented in this companion letter, bound by a strand of her own hair, offering you the fiefdom around the Pool of Life.

I hope that you find the terms acceptable! But I am willing to champion you and yours regardless, however you best find yourselves and your home within the Indos na Egra Eithog.

Your friend,
Riverborn Scamandros
Σκαμανδρος Ποταμογεναιος 

Wednesday, June 17, 2020

Certain Notes Hastily Scrawled by Scamandros, Glimpsed by Fellow Burning Witch Patrons

[the map attached to these notes--all absently left at the table by Scamandros as he and Kiddo (and others?) collect another round at the bar of the Burning Witch before returning to rehash what transpired--anyway, the map is clearly incomplete, and merely adds to one already sketched by Scamandros on his first foray into the Complex in the area near the Auditorium and the black vines and fruit (once?) guarded by Cronk]

Phasmo advocates for adamantium doors with cranks on 2nd level
Shadow monkeys and mosquitoes potential obstacles
Crannoc--take the grain ladder down, approach doors from north, maybe miss monkeys
I offer 3 z. insect repellent (hope Fludge returns soon) to deal with mosquitoes

Stairs into Complex have new look ... edgy (not unlike Frim); Phasmo interested in black grass, reveals he was recently robbed--strange
New door blocks way--Crannoc familiar with it as Brothers' work
Piked heads by stairs are gone; Crannoc collects nearby slime at my behest
Thru arch & north, 4 suck-clouds block way; confusion; retreat to elevator
Collect black fruit (10 altogether, Phasmo has 1; will petition party for fermenting some into more wine)

Further north, urbane ghouls eating gnome; claim bibulous nose as most delectable, but the gnome is not Brian
Avreml offers beets, ghouls disgusted; conversation distracted by memories of Brian and his involvement with the "Evil" Stump (possible new avenue of research?)
Accord reached by offer to return with a corpse; thru corridor, adamantium doors, black jungle beyond & S.
E. door filled with coppery machinery, tubes; W door too; a beet is placed into one machine; investigations interrupted by Valtropis' minions; diplomacy prevails
All investigations for naught; egress by grain ladder agreed


Not quite doomed. Lion-automatons now leading us thru complex. Phasmo suggested surrender. Diplomacy worked before


1) Gnomes
2) Red Hive
3) Valtropis

[afterward, a series of phrases written in Gnomic, possibly relating to Scamandros' known research into the Gnomes of the Complex, their claims within, and the "Clause of Abandonment"]

Monday, June 1, 2020

Scamandros to Kiddo, who has been healing this past week

[At the Burning Witch tavern, Scamandros and Kiddo share a pitcher of chestnut ale, and the Seer relates to his young lictor something of the deeds done Friday last, while Kiddo was resting a-bed to the heal the hurts that nearly laid her low last expedition they'd shared within "the Complex"]

Well, the stairs don't meet as you'd hope they do, between the first level of the Complex and the underground shore of the lizards. There's some kind of gate, and demi-Dwarfish warnings to "Keep Out" if Fergus is as fluent as he claims to be. Whoever was behind was cooking up a stew and otherwise most unpleasant, and would not allow us to pass. Fancy, with some chalk, added some edification to the gate for future expeditions if they pass by.

No, not "the old familiar suggestion", something milder. Though I wish you'd been there to suggest it!

Anyway, that meant the same as last time--ropes lowered into the same well to the water, and clambering down and all, and with the added awkwardness of the canoes. Yeah, we had three of them, all told, in part because of the addition of Fancy's lot to our crew--you remember them, Turq, Terwin, and Glys. We'd lower a canoe, lower its crew, and then the next boat. I think we got a neat order to it, before all was done.

All said, I'm glad that three sufficed! Pak-Pak didn't want to row (nor would I want it, him being a kobold with little leverage for a paddle), but was pint-sized; and Hate Pit the vatspawn possessed the strange power to acquire the properties of something touched by their hands, thus able to become buoyant cork with a mere wine-cork! Marvelous indeed.

The waters weren't quite the subterranean lake I was expecting; they branched here and there, with various shores. A maw opened into the depths on one beach, but we agreed to continue our watery explorations instead. On the next beach we heard skittering footsteps--

--you guessed it! When Betina called for him, Brian the Gnome answered. He was wary at first, but warmed up quickly to our company when I offered him some wine (he admitted to a fondness for strong drink, and his great nose shining in the lantern-light confirmed the truth). Well, Betina and I pressed on him our former brief acquaintance, and he admitted some information: over yonder, and across the bridge, we might find certain "lovely ladies" to admire (and why not, when come all this way??)

I made certain arrangements with him, concerning the Indos etc.--we'll hash them out before our next delve, when you're all healed, I expect.

Anyway, after that we followed Brian's guidance and came to a bridge overarching above the water, with ingress from the southern shore. Landing our craft there, we crossed the bridge north and discovered a chamber filled with wonderful statues of the Empire-that-Was--in particular of ladies and ladies-in-waiting, all in their finery, cut most exquisitely from finest stone-and-marble, and all covered over with the growths of algaes and other slimes.

Fancy expressed a general distaste for the images, the algaeic coverings, and the suggestion of the gnome that brought us thence; and my comrades were eager to depart for more interesting parts; but I persisted in inspecting the statues, and though I did not dis-cover the secret door, I did detain us long enough that it be discovered.

For of course, amongst such a display, some secret must be found; and what was found was a sarcophagus, ancient and reptilian. Banx (the illusionist in service to Hate Pit), possessed of witch-sight, was able to discern a corpse within the sarcophagus. All was made ready, as well as possible, for the inevitable animation of the horror, and lo! it did arise with pale fires in its eye-sockets, and a pale sword in its hand, when Fergus ventured to overthrow the lid of the sarcophagus.

Our weapons found no purchase against it as it arose, but Fergus was able to smuggle the sword from its hands before it could react, and pass the pale blue blade to Hate Pit. Hate Pit then struck the horror, and the sword bit as others did not, but to little avail. Then Fancy, taking up a vial of holy water from his pack, smashed it well against the thing's skull, and the water hissed most vilely, staggered, and collapsed.

But of course you'll receive some of the lucre from this adventure! Do you think that I, Riverborn Scamandros, am stingy with lucre well-won? Only heal well, and together, we will dis-cover ever greater treasures, both material and immaterial!

Rosey! Another pitcher! And share out a bottle of your finest for those in the house tonight!

Friday, May 29, 2020

A Will, Proffered by Scamandros to the Impossible Fortress and the Athenaeum of the Dying Sun

I, Scamandros--borne of the ancient River Scamander through my great-great-great-etc-grandmother, the Naiad Idaea, mother of Teucer--acknowledging that I am sound of intent, mind, and body, do set down this living will, in full understanding that continued delves into the area known locally as "the Complex" may result in my death, or worse, dismemberment, and that my interests may best be guarded in this writing.

To this end, I declare the inheritors of my worldly lucre, goods, and possessions thus:

1) A tenth portion of the value of my chattel goods and liquid lucre shall be delivered to the Rani of the Impossible Fortress, in tribute to her Excellence, and for surety in the discharge of this document.

2) A tenth portion of same (goods and lucre) shall be reserved for funereal purposes, including the costs of woods for the pyre, the purchase of a fine silver funereal urn for the ashes, and the disbursement of much wine for those attendant. It is hoped that enough lucre be acquired that some form of games be contested, and a fine prize be offered the winner, in keeping with the ancient ways of fallen Heroes

3) A fifth portion of same (goods and lucre) shall be reserved for the Athenaeum of the Dying Sun, of which I, Scamandros, am a "founding member". The use of these funds is left to the final decision of the remaining members (Phasmo, Journeyman Crannoc, and the Half-Elf Sergio Cankersore), but I would urge those surviving me to use them in the further development of our library, e.g. the acquisition of new works, the preservation of those possessed, and perhaps even scribal copyings for the expansion of the Athenaeum.

4) A fifth portion of same (goods and lucre) shall be paid to one "Kiddo" (an orphan[?] of Orm) whom I, Scamandros, have taken into service as retainer. Well has she served me as lictor and spear-arm! The usufruct of what I leave her is hers alone (though I do hope she aims rather for the philosophical and metaphysical, and not the crass material, in her use of it).

5) Finally, the remaining two fifths of same (goods and lucre), plus the fruits of any personal projects I have engaged in, as well as the capital I have in invested in for the brewing of interesting drink, in addition to the copy-right to any left-over notes (including in my spell notebooks) I leave behind, as well as any extraordinary items that have come into my possession during expeditions into "the Complex" or beyond--all this I leave to my Cousin.

For myself, I am without issue, and without siblings, by whom I might leave all to Niece or Nephew. Therefore, it is only right that, should news of my (merely hypothetical) death be bruited about, that my nearest, eldest Cousin should inherit the greatest portion of my wealth.

Σκαμανδρος Ποταμογενος