Weather: Cold seas, steady winds from the west, clear skies at night under the full moon
Players:
The Mission
Dame Gold’s request still burned in their minds: infiltrate Highport, the festering den of orcish slavers, and rescue her captured brother. The party accepted under no illusion of safety—this was a plunge into the Pomarj, a land of shadows and treachery. Disguises as slavers would be their cover; the Rod of Law and the favor of St. Cuthbert their only true protection.
The Ghost
At dawn, they boarded their vessel—the Ghost. Her timbers groaned with age, the sails patched and weather-stained, yet her crew moved with the ease of men long accustomed to dangerous waters. The captain, a scarred veteran with one clouded eye, met them on the deck.
“You keep to your cover,” he rasped, tugging at his salt-stiff beard. “In Highport, words cut deeper than steel. Speak too clean, or pray too loud, and you’ll not see another sunrise.”
Dog nodded silently, while Terry concealed the mace of St. Cuthbert beneath his cloak. Even Irving, resolute as always, covered his tabard of faith with a roughspun surcoat. The crew gave the adventurers wary glances but asked no questions. Gold had been paid, and the Ghost sailed for the Pomarj.
The voyage lasted three days. Salt spray lashed the rails, the sea heaving under a pale moon. Orcish corsairs shadowed them once but never struck—perhaps mistaking the Ghost for another ship in the slavers’ trade. Irving spent the nights with the captain, learning the ways of the stars and sea, and by journey’s end had gained the first touch of a sailor’s craft.
Highport
The port city revealed itself at dawn on the third day, rising like a wound upon the coast. Blackened walls, half-ruined towers, and docks crowded with chains and cages marked Highport as a place of misery. Orcs and men mingled in equal measure, their commerce bound in shackles.
The Ghost moored without challenge. Disguises, kept guards from asking too many questions. For now, they were just merchants come to trade in flesh.
The Phantom
Planting 4, 576 CY
Their first step was contact. In the smoky bar called the Phantom, the party found Roderick—a bent man in a threadbare cloak, face lined with suspicion. Dog showed the badge discreetly, and the man slid a folded parchment into his hand.
“Not here,” Roderick muttered. “Read it when the shadows are your only company.”
The adventurers blended into the crowd, drinking sour ale while the sounds of dice, laughter, and distant screams mingled beneath the low rafters. They did not linger long.
The Plan
Roderick’s message confirmed what Dame Gold had feared: her brother was being processed through the temple, the heart of Highport’s slaver operations. A secret southern entrance, half-forgotten, offered their only chance of entry. To reach it, the group purchased a small rowboat and planned to land under cover of night. They would approach by cliffside, climb to the hidden path, and strike when the moon was high.
Watching the Temple
From the ridgeline above Highport, the adventurers crouched low in the brittle grass, their cloaks drawn tight against the sea-winds. Below them, half-shrouded in mist and shadow, the ruined temple loomed—its broken walls jutting like the bones of some long-dead giant. The faint glow of torchlight flickered within, betraying signs of orcish activity, though no guards were visible at the shattered gate.
Dog’s keen eyes traced the movement of shadows across the courtyard while Irving muttered a prayer to St. Cuthbert, fingers tightening around the haft of his mace. Oleg adjusted the hood of his cloak, his gaze drawn to the jagged cliffs that concealed the hidden path Roderick had whispered of.
The party exchanged tense glances, knowing the true path lay not in bold entry but through the secret way spoken of in hushed tones. They lingered in silence, the brittle grass hissing in the sea-breeze, watching as the sun bled into the horizon. Only when the valley surrendered fully to darkness would they dare their move toward the temple of chains.
XP Award: 500 each for roleplay and planning
Treasure/Items: Parchment map from Roderick, rowboat, Irving gains Navigation proficiency (1 slot)
