Session 75: Alhaster
General Summary
The party flies over the Bandit Kingdoms. As Alhaster grows from a dark blur on the coastline, they fly past several outposts, stockaded with timber walls. Peering over, they see quarries and mixing-pits, where slaves labour under the whips of armoured guards, mining and loading stone and mortar onto wagons where oxen snort impatiently.
They arrive at the coastline, in a shanty town where they hire a ferry across the river into Alhaster proper.
The market square was crowded; an air of excitement and a smile on every face as folk strung banners and bunting across the streets. Across from them, people congregated before a series of wooden platforms, where a helmeted man was calling for attention.
The party watched from a distance, catching the attention of a passerby, Lins inquired what was going on. "Oh! You must be new; welcome to our blessed city. It's a public execution!" the villager answered cheerfully before darting off to join the throng.
As shouts of "DEATH TO THE EBON TRIAD" arose, Trislee checked her ears for seawater, but found as the cry repeated that she had heard correctly. They ventured closer. The helmeted man was giving a speech, calling that these Triad cultists would be killed swiftly because their almighty Prince Zeech was a merciful lord, and that if the executioner had *his* way, their pain would last a fortnight. Then he pulled a lever, the hooded bodies dropped, and the cheers reached a fever pitch.
Trislee caught the elbow of an attendee as the crowd began to disperse. When she asked what on earth was going on, the villager responded cheerfully that their wonderful prince had protected the city from heretical cultists, and that they had nothing to fear, because between Zeech's power and wisdom and the Angels watching over - he indicated the sky - Alhaster was the safest place in the world.
Lins looked up to follow the pointing figure, and saw a humanoid with bat-like wings, the bulk of obvious arms and armour flying several hundred feet above. There were a few such figures, but all too far-off to make out detail.
Trislee having studied the planes and Lins having met a real Angel, they were pretty sure whatever was swooping over the city was probably not a divine guardian.
Trislee and Lins excused themselves from the crowd, speaking together in low voices. They didn't expect people to openly condemn the Triad. The smiles around them were starting to look strained and artificial; they decided to keep their wits about them and start looking for Lashonna.
Asking after magical experts put them in the direction of High Alhaster, where the flotsam hovels were traded for huge manors of stone, carved with tasteful gargoyles and columns, side-by-side with brick-and-timber structures of impressive stature.
They beheld a huge spire with lacquered red tile at intervals. They caught a half-drow servant in plain grey uniform running by, who informed them this was the Scarlet Spire, the temple of Wee Jass. He asked fi they were in town for the festival, and when they asked for details, gave them a poster detailing the events of the Seven Years of Joy gala; a grand banquet for the rich and powerful to be held at Zeech's palace. The common folk would have festivity, too - their generous Prince had seen to that - there would be a parade, and street markets, and performances. But the drow spoke of these with an air of resignation, sighing that he'd give anything just for a peek at the glitz and glamour of the Real party.
Having decided not to be too open about their real business, Lins asked some guarded questions about sages, and was informed that while Prince Zeech was surely the most sagacious of all, Lady Lashonna was his official advisor in matters arcane. She certainly would be at his Gala. And he supposed the Blessed Angels knew about magic-craft too - they definitely could use it. But he wouldn't call them 'sages' - not that they aren't wise! he was quick to clarify.
The party thanked him and watched him scurry off with his stack of flyers. The sun was getting low, and they began to think on lodgings. Wandering the neighbourhood, they found a half-burned ruin of a church with real angels on the half-melted stained glass, with signs forbidding entry. They also saw the huge cathedral of Hextor with its bas-reliefs of the six-armed god, and an open-air gymnasium where some old but very-buff men were sparring.
Asking around, they learned there were a few options for inns, and decided that staying at a fancy place might yield them a chance to make connections - maybe even with the sage they sought. So they made their way to The Deluxury.
The three-storey hotel, tap-house, spa, restaurant, and gaming-hall made the Emporium of Diamond Lake look like a child's plaything. Servants scurried around catering to every whim of the opulent guests, and they were greeted immediately upon stepping through the gilt double-doors by a finely-dressed halfling who introduced himself as Armhin Loratio, proprietor.
He happily told them their rates, and while they balked at the high prices, was interrupted by a human wearing a battered cuirass and a greatsword. He flipped his oil-slicked hair back and declared "I hear you're looking for Heroes."
Armhin waved the stranger off, sputtering that a common gladiator was no hero, and that he should go back to the Scattergut. The man, who did smell a little of beer, laughed and wandered off, but the party's attention was piqued.
Loratio explained that he had been honoured by the Prince with a personal request: to round out the nobility of the gala's invitees by finding some worthy guests of the heroic type. Folk who would raise his event by their stature of reputation and by the entertainment of their tales and bravado. He didn't want any common ratcatcher or amateur troll-fighter, he explained, he wanted Heroics.
Fortunately, the party had plenty of tales to tell. It was difficult, however, to select accomplishments that did not touch on their own - albeit antagonistic - connections to the Ebon Triad. But with tales of White Plume Mountain, of the Shadowfell, of Mind Flayer mob lords, and of cursed gems in screaming towers, they gathered a crowd of onlookers and the esteem of the star-struck halfling
He granted them their invitations with glee, but only if they promised to tell the tale of the screaming tower at the banquet. They booked the cheapest bunk they could - a two-bed shared room for 250 gp per night.
Armhin bowed. "Excellent choice, my ladies." He raised his hands and clapped twice. A flurry of servants appeared to take their bags and settle them in.
Notes
8th of Reaping
Report Date
19 Jun 2023
Primary Location
Secondary Location
Related Plots
Related Characters