Kemperbad’s cliffside lights guttered like candles against the fog, their glow cast into the gorge below. The fellowship lingered in its streets, weaving a web of bribes and whispers that stretched from stevedores to harbor masters, each coin spent like bait cast upon dark waters. Days passed in patient silence until news came: Etelka Herzen had entered the city. She did not come alone—her companion cloaked in a broad hat, a hireling soldier at her side, weary porters trailing behind. Their wagon was light, their purpose concealed. The Golden Bull took them in, polished halls closing like a gilded cage around serpent and prey.
The fellowship waited. Not here, they agreed, not beneath the eyes of Kemperbad’s courts. Better she believe herself unwatched until she strayed into fog or wilderness where judgment could be dealt. Yet doubt gnawed. Letters marked with the sigil of the Changer of Ways had been found in her tower; goblin massacres had followed her departure from the Barren Hills. But still, no proof more solid than ink and coincidence. Was she the agent of corruption—or merely a noble scholar caught in shadow’s web? Suspicion alone was a perilous lantern, its light burning as easily as it guided.
Seeking answers, Wanda and Qavitrae traced rumors of her sellsword, Ivo Müller. Their hunt ended in betrayal—lured into a blind alley by false guides, where a pistol misfired and only Wanda’s bellowing intimidation scattered the cutthroats. Bruised but alive, they returned to the inn with their trust in the city frayed. The serpent remained coiled above them, and patience wore thin.
Plans unraveled in whispers over dimly lit tables. To trail her further? To confront her with forged letters and deceit? Or to strike the serpent before she could shed her skin? The debate circled like wolves around a carcass until steel resolve hardened. Thindruk’s pragmatism, Felrick’s thirst for retribution, Nora’s zeal beneath Qavitrae’s guiding hand—all bent toward one course: the knife in the dark. Wanda’s armor would wait in her pack; instead, she would draw the night watchman’s gaze with charm and a tankard, leaving the others free to act. Rope was scarce, but cleverness sufficed: bows and arrows were fished through windows with line meant for trout, not murder.
At midnight, the plan was set in motion. Felrick, eyes gleaming with mischief and vengeance, stepped into the darkness of Etelka’s chamber. There she lay—peaceful, unguarded, head resting on silken pillow. For a moment, hesitation. Then the twang of bowstring. The arrow struck true but not fatal, severing ear and waking her with a shriek. Panic twisted her limbs; another shaft pierced her chest, cutting short her cry to a rasping wheeze. The serpent lay still, her secrets unspoken.
Yet the walls of the Golden Bull heard more than silence. The companion stirred, a dirk in his hand as he slipped into the hall. Thindruk’s words masked suspicion for a heartbeat, but the man reached for Etelka’s door. He never saw the arrow loosed from shadow—its iron head bursting from his throat. Thindruk caught him before he fell, dragging the body into the chamber now slick with blood. Together, they staged the scene: throat slit, dagger clutched in hand, a murder-suicide to any who might pry.
The search was swift, hands trembling with urgency. Among traveling bags they found a writing kit, and more damning—maps. One showed the empire scarred with an ancient triangle, its inverted point at the Barren Hills, a place circled in ink: the Devil’s Bowl. Another marked paths leading from Kemperbad northward into that cursed land. And there was a key—strange, its teeth unlike any lock known, its shaft etched with unreadable script. No idol, no overt sigil of Chaos, but relics enough to whisper of hidden designs. Coins too were taken, though meager—two crowns from the lady’s purse, six from her companion’s. Evidence or plunder, both weighed alike in the gnome’s pocket.
They lingered only long enough to ensure the trail of blood did not lead beyond the room. Then they returned to their own lodgings, hearts heavy, hands stained. Morning light brought biscuits and jam, eaten in silence beneath the watchful eyes of strangers. No alarm had yet been raised, but suspicion would follow when the doors upstairs remained unanswered.
For now, the serpent was slain, her companion silenced. Yet unease lingered like smoke after fire. Had justice been served—or had they struck blind, guided more by fear than truth? The maps, the key, the unanswered questions pointed them onward, north to the Devil’s Bowl. But beneath the triumph, corruption seeped into their souls, threefold weight upon each heart. The fellowship walked from Kemperbad not as mere river-traders, but as killers marked by doubt, bearing secrets heavy as stone.
Scene setting & recap Political rumor context (from Thindruk’s mingling) Plan discussion: tail vs. talk vs. hit job Night search for the sellsword Ivo Müller (failure → alley ambush) Name learned: Ivo Müller (from provisioners’ reputations list). Wanda leads a Hard Rumor test to locate Ivo that night; Qavitrae accompanies. A “helpful” local offers to guide them, leads into a dark alley; thugs rush from both ends. Qavitrae fires a pistol: critical failure → misfire (black powder flashes, no shot; requires an hour to clean). Wanda uses Intimidate (Challenging) successfully; the gang breaks and flees after a token rock strike. Outcome: Qavitrae takes 6 Physical Peril from thrown rock/strike (below her peril threshold). The guide vanishes; time is wasted; trail goes cold. Return to The Golden Bull; gun cleaning; more planning Group reconvenes; Qavitrae disassembles and cleans the pistol for an hour. Tactical debate: Witch Hunter knowledge & availability check Decision: “stab in the night,” as safely as possible Group aligns on a nighttime assassination as the lowest-risk option (attack while asleep). Constraints: Solution: Use fishing line (from survival kits) to pull up bow and quiver to Thindruk’s window; Wanda will distract the watchman. Execution setup Wanda approaches the watchman on the second floor with two mugs; Charm (Easy): roll 04 (success). The watchman is fully distracted. Nora ties bow/quiver to fishing line from below; Thindruk and Felrick haul them up to Thindruk’s room. Thindruk (with prior practice on his room lock) approaches Etelka’s door: Assassination of Etelka Herzen Room is dark; curtains drawn. Felrick (dark-sight) sees Etelka asleep on her side. First shot (surprise, auto-hit due to talent; initial damage roll low due to target turning): Second shot (still prone target): Response of Etelka’s companion; counter-ambush Felrick hears floorboards next door (the gentleman’s room). Thindruk stealths back toward his own door and into the hallway shadows. The gentleman (broad-hat companion) opens his door, dirk in hand, and knocks on Etelka’s door, calling to her. Thindruk interjects socially (“Who’s there?” / suggests fetching the watchman). The man opts to open Etelka’s door to check. As the door opens, Felrick fires from the darkness (+20 situational bonus for surprise): Thindruk catches/directs the falling body and drags him into Etelka’s room; door is closed. Crime-scene staging & evidence control Search of Etelka’s room (traveling light) Search of the companion’s room Exfiltration & lodging logistics After-action accounting Corruption & rewards Corruption assignment: 3 to each PC for the assassination under uncertainty (acknowledged as morally muddied, not proven in public). Reward Points: 100 each. Open threads / next steps (raised but not executed this session)Session Notes