A Game of Dungeon World

[Amaril]

Téalon. Once, the heart of the greatest empire in all history. Some say her flame still burns brightest among all the civilizations of mortals; others, that it fades by the day, and may soon die out forever.

Uphill, in their grand palace halls, the wizards play at their schemes and intrigues, every lord and lady happy to put an enchanted knife in a friend's back for a chance at the Citadel, and the imperial throne. Below, in the shadows of the walls and towers, merchant, priest, mercenary, artisan, and thief all struggle to make their way. The adventurous or foolish may find great fortune or painful, ignominious death delving in the ancient, unmapped catacombs, a city of the dead beneath that of the living. Under cover of darkness and silence, the Neighborhood Association plies its murderous trade. At the docks, every tide brings in new cargoes of luxury from distant lands, and when it leaves again, the Empire's soldiers and explorers go with it, bound for other, wilder ports. Everywhere, agents of Gilleah sow treason and dissent in secret, the formal end of the war against the northern kingdom forcing the combatants to find subtler means of conflict. In Shambles, plague runs rampant in the wake of last year's great flood, and whispers circulate of corpses drained of blood, a sign not seen in generations. And always, beyond the walls, the jungle waits, ready to devour anyone lured into its clutches by promises of wealth hidden in forgotten places.

Just another day in the city at the center of the world.

On this particular day, though, you all find yourselves about some business together. Dalibor, where are you right now?

[Shortstuff]

Dalibor's fingers danced about the strings of his harp as he plied his trade. He had been offered free drinks in the Wayfarer's Rest in return for a song. And so Dalibor played, letting a gentle melody (http://www.infinitelooper.com/?v=H6S8woo6G7E&p=n) rise into the air from the harp of his father's father.

It was a song of winter, something these folk by the jungle knew nothing of, of snow upon the evergreens and the cold winds that brought it. It was a song of warm hearths in stone, dwarven homes, one sung with a deep and gentle voice. And when he was done, when his thick, calloused fingers stopped plucking at the strings, he smiled and raised his empty mug to the barkeep.

"I think I have earned another round," the dwarf told the old human as he set down his harp.

The bard had more on his mind than simply earning a few drinks or coins for striking a pretty chord. The truth was, he knew very well of the rumors circulating of plague and bloodless corpses, and a sense of adventure had taken hold of Dalibor. Indeed, that was the whole reason he had agreed to travel to Téalon despite the sweltering heat that he hated so much (not to mention the bugs). If there was something sinister behind these rumors, perhaps there could be some glory - and a good story - to be found in discovering the truth.

The Wayfarer's Rest was a tavern by the docks, and so a lot of news-hungry travelers would stop in, as would locals hoping to make a few friends (or coins) by sharing news about the local happenings. It was as good a place as any to perhaps learn a bit more about the blights that troubled the people of this once great city.

Besides, if the adventure led to delving into the places below Téalon, there would be great opportunities to learn more about the history of the strange metropolis.

Of course, the Rest was known for its shady patronage as well: pirates, thieves, brigands - all the colorful sorts that either cause trouble while enjoying a good rest from the sea or that take advantage of sailors and travelers. For that, Dalibor was glad Eldar was around.

"I'm surprised nobody's tried to cut our purses," he grunted to the elvish hero, pausing to take a long, filling swig from his chilled drink. "And I'm more surprised these foreigners can stand this heat. By Kagarak's blood, I think I could fill this mug with my sweat."

Yet even as he grumbled, Dalibor was keeping his eyes and ears open for anything interesting...

I'd like to roll Discern Realities to see if Dalibor can learn anything interesting about recent happenings while listening to the bar's patrons chit-chat. I'll put a roll in the spoiler below. If you'll allow it, open it; if not, no need.

(Also, apparently using 'Preview' + rolling dice = breaking the dice roller. Gonna try making a second post with a roll.)

[Shortstuff]

As said, only open this next spoiler if I'm allowed to roll. That's always the DM's call.

DISCERN REALITIES: [roll0]

A result of '8' allows me one question. I choose: What here is useful or valuable to me?

[AsDeR]

"I'm surprised nobody's tried to cut our purses," he grunted to the elvish hero, pausing to take a long, filling swig from his chilled drink. "And I'm more surprised these foreigners can stand this heat. By Kagarak's blood, I think I could fill this mug with my sweat."


"They probably know they are as empty as they look." sais the elf sitting by the dwarf, speaking softly. "And you are always sweaty Dalibor. You would probably sweat underwater."
Eldar wasn't uncomfortable arround the smelly scum that gathered that evening, but he sure wanted them all to shut up and drown on their own drinks. It was part of the trade. If you want to know what people know, you have to make them happy enough to talk, or scared enough. The group decided to try the first option.

"What's taking them so long?" Eldar decided to stay with Dalibor, in case one of the common fights broke loose during his performance, but his was starting to get impatient. He couldn't see where Kerillian and Taryth had gone, and it had been long enough to start thinking maybe something bad could have happened to them.

So he sipped from his drink.

"Say Dalibor, there's something I want to ask you. Why exactly did you choose this place? A lot of this folk look like sailors, they are prompt to belive in the weirdest stories they can hear. We could probably write a book about all the mystical creatures they have met in person, and how the gods favor theirs ships personally."

[Amaril]

The barkeep catches your eye as you raise your cup, Dalibor, and nods, waving one of the servers over with more wine for you and Eldar. As the girl leaves, you take advantage of the moment between songs to listen in on the chatter. As crowded as the Rest is, it's difficult to pick out much in the general clamor--beyond the cluster of patrons clamoring for you to start playing again, you catch a few snatches about the latest batch of Gillean dissenters dragged off by the Imperial Guards, an argument from one table about some upcoming noble wedding and what it will mean for the moneylenders, sailors swapping stories from their voyages. No one seems much concerned with the progress of the plague, or the rumored exsanguinations--few outside of Shambles concern themselves with the goings-on in the slums, and for now, as long as the quarantine is maintained, they seem content to let that pattern continue.

Taryth and Kerillian, just as Eldar is wondering what's keeping you, you find yourselves arriving late to the party--not from any accident, but because you were delayed bringing a new, promising lead on your latest venture. Kerillian, what have you been up to, and what have you brought to show for it?

[SchwhatNow]

Kerillian and Taryth find themselves entering the Wayfarer's Rest after a wandering through the merchant quarter. Since merchants tend to trade with many different travelers and locals alike, it was thought that some of them might have some more information that would be more reliable than what passes a drunk mans lips. Before entering, Kerillian tells her hawk Kovar to scout the area since she knows that bringing him into a tavern is more trouble than it's worth.

Remembering something Kerillian stops Taryth and points to the taverns hanging sign. "Remember the name that drunkard gave us when we arrived in town yesterday?" she laughs softly, "The Restful Ferret. I guess some of the letters were correct at least." They step inside and find Eldar and Dalibor more or less in the same place they left them and with good timing as Dalibor is just finishing up a song.

Ignoring the usual stares from the patrons at seeing an Elf walk into the building, again, she greets the other half of the party. "Sorry we took so long, things would have gone faster if little sticky-fingers hadn't tried to steal something from every merchant we talked to. Just be thankful none of them noticed."

She sits down and regards Dalibor with a playful look. "You know before you started singing I might have mistaken your harp playing for that of an Elf. Though I'm sure they could teach you a thing or two still." If you could see her face, you'd swear that she was smiling ear to ear. Her teasing was commonplace between her and Dalibor though she did have some respect for his dedication to his craft. A rare thing between an Elf and a Dwarf.

"We had almost given up on getting any new information until we spoke to a wise old man named Ysberin who apparently has been a merchant here for many years. Even before the cities collapse." Her eyes become intensely focused as she says this. "With times being so tough, he was easily willing to share a secret he had kept for years. Apparently the catacombs weren't always as mysterious as they are now, and likely for good reason. See as they expanded the tunnels for more waterways and burial space they hit upon some old ruins out in the jungle not far from town. Shortly after, the nobles closed down access to the catacombs and it wasn't long then until strange noises were heard beneath the grates."

She pauses in thought for a moment before continuing, making sure to speak softly enough not to be overheard "Merchant thinks that great flood might not have been such an accident after all. He recalls rumors of "official craftsmen" working on the sea walls around the Shambles. Though some people seemed to notice that they were weakening the wall, not repairing it. Then they ended up dead." Looking at the group she adds "Flooding the waterways would be a hell of a way to cover up whatever they dug up down there. But if we start from the source..." She trails off and motions to Taryth to place the map they received from the merchant on the table between them.

"This will lead us right to those ruins outside of town. Anyone else thinking we should check the place out?" Kerillian says wryly, knowing that even if Dalibor is only half as interested in this tale as she is, he will be chomping at the bit to go.

[Amaril]

Eldar, as Kerillian lays out the map, you're suddenly struck by the sense that you've heard something important about that location before--something Kerillian hasn't mentioned. What is it? Do you believe it?

[AsDeR]

Eldar half-closes his eyes as he sees the map. And points to the symbol drawn beside the jungle temple.
"I remember something about this symbol. Many years ago an old hag at my village used to tell stories about how she was a powerful witch when she was young, but how some cultist took her prisoner and stripped her powers away with a dark ritual. She had this symbol scarified on her back, always said it was them who did it." Eldar pauses for a second. "But it's incomplete, this snake should have a crown, and the half moon below it should be much bigger." sais the elf drawing with his finger on the map.
He then looks up and and shrugs a little. "Of course she also said she married a squirrel and we never see it arround because it was busy collecting acorns for her."

Despite the dubious origin of his information, Eldar couldn't shake away the feeling that the symbol would be much coincidence to be made up by a crazy hag.

[Shortstuff]

"The weird stories that fools believe may be a little fantastic," Dalibor began explaining to Eldar, "but there's some truth in those stories. Legends aren't born on their own. Something very real must happen before it can be turned into another myth."

Before he could say more, Kerillian and Taryth came in through the door. After a friendly jab at Dalibor's music and a brief, indignant snort from the dwarf, she got to business, explaining in length some details about the catacombs... and a way to enter them.

Dalibor leaned forward over the table, his eyes gleaming as he regarded the map. To suggest that he wanted to leave immediately and plunge into the jungle to find this entrance would be an understatement.

"Purposely flooding a sacred burial place is an unthinkable act," he said with a rumble. He rubbed at his throat uncomfortably as he spoke. "To think of the bloodlines disgraced by such an act of sabotage... I wonder what secrets they hoped to bury." Frowning, the bard reached for his smoking pipe at his belt and prepared himself a smoke.

"I can't say the symbol is familiar to me, Eldar," he noted after a moment. "It's not a dwarven one. It must have some sort of magical significance, but I'm not learned in that. But old ruins?" The dwarf lit his pipe and set it in his mouth, staring at the location of the old ruins on the map. "Maybe... Let me think." He strained his memory, trying to remember something about them.

I would like to use my Bardic Lore (Grand Histories of the Known World) to recall what sort of ruins these are and what sort of creatures might inhabit them now.