Second Chances

I’ll run a casual Aegis thing, using CORPS. Here’s the premise:

Any one of these would be sufficient to get you hired (especially that last one). Two or more makes you a shoo-in. (All six makes you the kind of person they don’t want to let get away. Heh-heh-heh.)

Other Aegis information is available either as HTML or as a PDF from my web site, or you can just ask me to mail something to you.

http://www.oocities.org/Area51/Chamber/2838/aegis/aegis.html

We’re using CORPS, and we’ll try to edge into it gradually (no sudden death combat in the first session).

One of the things CORPS offers is Ass-Saver Points, or ASP. Like karma points or hero points, you use these to adjust reality in your favour. Everyone starts with three (3) ASP. Here’s what you can do with them:

If you want, I’ll write up the character for you, or just give you one if you want somebody to play while you get the feel for the system.

Assuming you want to write up a character yourself, read on...

You can get a PDF file containing the basic skill resolution system, a skill list, and some of the character advantages/disadvantages from

http://www.digdat.net/~btrc/pub/nutshell_v13.pdf

Or I can mail it to you, or give it to you.

Characters are superior hero types, built on 150 AP and 100 SP.

I suggest you play a human, although a werewolf writeup is provided in the 2nd edition rules. I have some racial packages on my web site, too. Ask if you want to play an elf or a dwarf or some other non-human type.

Let me know if you want to play a mage. I’d like to have one mage, anyway, but there’s no convenient set of spells. I have written some up; you can get some idea of magic in CORPS by looking at my web site, at

http://www.oocities.org/Area51/Chamber/2838/magic.html.

You’ll need to pick (or make up) a magic college.

Joe Average has stats of: STR 5, AGL 4, AWR 4, WIL 4, HLT 5, POW 1

Jane Average has: STR 4, AGL 5, AWR 4, WIL 4, HLT 5, POW 1

Most skills run off AGL (dexterity) or AWR (int, quick-thinking); a value of 6 in one of these stats will save you some skill points. Magic runs off POW.

It doesn’t hurt to pile on level 1 or level 2 psych lims.

WIL (willpower) is more important than you’d think. It represents strength of personality (i.e., "presence") and is used to determine if a blow knocks you out.

For combat skills a level of 7 is black-belt level. You probably can’t afford that, except in certain specialties. With sword, you want a level of 8 in order to be able to hit twice and run.

For trades and knowledge skills, a 3 is the minimum you’d expect from someone making a living at it. Higher is better, of course. (A 7 is roughly a Ph.D. level, which is not necessary for your average welder, for example.)

Here are some racial packages for those who want to play a dwarf or an elf:

Dwarves

Total cost: 5 AP.

It’s very difficult for Dwarves to have enough magic power to be effective magicians.

Thermal vision lets them see in the dark, at AWR aptitude; they see heat traces. Detect iron allows them to detect iron.

Elves

Total cost: 0 AP

Ultravision allows elves to see without penalty in the dark, so long as there is any light at all. The "Frailness" disadvantage increases the amount of damage an elf takes from a weapon by 20%, rounding nearest:

Ian is playing Pontius Philbin, an import specialist who’s one of the two people importing iron for the Warden.

James is playing Magum Colim, a Dark Elf who claims to be over a thousand years old. ("Yeah, Magum is mentioned in the stories of the Third War of The Gate. That’s me.")

Jim is playing Necessary, a former retainer to a vampire, who has learned a bit about their magic.

Tina is playing Lallin Birch, an elven ranger who makes money guiding hunters (and others) through the Great Marsh. She is good with a bow, a sling, and the bola used in the Marsh during the winter.

Brian may or may not be playing something.

Winter in Aegis was cold and wet. It had been raining and storming for almost two weeks. Yesterday, each of Pontius Philbin, Lallin Birch, and Magum Colim were contacted by Annin Silver, an employee of Lord Ajhimanalon, and asked if they would like to "perform a service for the undead community." All three agreed to speak with the Lord, and agreed to come to the estate of Lord Ajhimanalon an hour before sunset. Colim had noted that Silver had the unmistakable appearance of a vampire’s bond-servant—a servant bound by blood and probably hoping to be promoted to vampire. (Outsiders can only imagine the kind of politicking that goes on between vampires to promote their bondservants to the status of vampire, when only one or two positions come open a year.)

The estate was a city block, a square building surrounding an interior courtyard; most of the wealthy homes in the Old City are like this, tall and without windows on the ground floor. Because the estate was in the Old City, Philbin know that (a) Lord Ajhimanalon was a very important vampire, but (b) not among the top crust (who live on Blood Toll Island).

As they met, the front door opened by itself. They entered, and a lamp flared at the far end of the room to show them where they must walk. As they reached that doorway, another lamp flared down the hall, and they followed. All three noticed the use of magic rather than simply a human servant; the air was a trifle musty. Both Philbin and Colim knew that vampire homes pick up that musty, unlived smell quite quickly if the living servants are absent.

Following the lamps took them to an inner room without windows and with a second door. At the far end of the room sat a vampire. They bowed. He spoke.

"I am Lord Ajhimanalon. Please excuse me for not standing; it is before my usual rising time and I find I have no strength yet. Take off your cloaks and be seated." They did so, seeing each other for the first time.

Philbin was a trifle short, a man of middle years with a tidy fringe of dark hair surrounding shiny scalp, and with piercing brown eyes. He dressed finely, with a tight-spun cloak that kept off the rain. Birch was tall and slender like many of the elvenkind and she dressed in the utilitarian manner of those wanderers of the Great Marsh. Colim was shorter and sturdier than Birch, and he was a Dark Elf, one of those rare elves cursed by the gods of the Elves for unnatural attraction to the forces of darkness. His hair as long and white and he dressed in the colourful silks of the River Empire. They clung damply to him. He wore a veil, and what the others could see of his face and ears was torn and damaged. He smelled as though he had not bathed for a long time, and he made a peculiar sucking sound that Philbin recognized as ill-fitting false teeth. And yet Colim moved with confidence and grace, and the lines of his body as revealed by the damp silks did not show an aged and broken body.

The vampire said, "Do you agree that our conversation here will be under the oath of silence, whether or not you accept this position?" They agreed. "Then it is done." Colim heard the exhaustion in his voice; he knew that the longer a vampire has been dead, the more strain it is to move during the daylight hours. Since Ajhimanalon had to have been dead for over a century, the toll on him had to be remarkable; even more so, considering he had worked the magic with the lamps.

Which led naturally to the question: what had happened to his servants?

"I have the privilege of holding the position of population enforcement. My kind control their numbers very closely, because our survival in this city depends upon it. Normally, we have only one or two infractions in a year, and normally we deal easily with them.

"These infractions are of two kinds: most commonly, a lord or lady will be unwilling to allow a bondservant to go to the True Death and grants them the last kiss. These poor folk are easily caught because their lords or ladies must feed them. They are given the True Death and their patrons are fined or otherwise punished.

"More rarely, a vampire from elsewhere will decide to grace us with his or her presence. These vampires are usually newly passed-over and in some danger, so they decide to come to the city where ‘monsters are citizens.’ They have no idea of the rules and they kill. We return the favour, as quickly and as quietly as we can. The people"—he managed to smile—"the people would get nervous if they knew.

"Three days ago, a man found Ningal Oathkeeper dead in her home near the base of the clock. She had been…" He paused delicately. "…violently exsanguinated. My servants were quickly informed and attended the raising by the necromancer."

Promise-keepers took money to keep promises, sometimes years in advance. A promise-keeper’s ghost always stayed nearby until his or her promises were assumed by another promise-keeper.

"I can get you the names, if you want them. The ghost of Ningal Oathkeeper led my servants to a ship, the Falcon’s Pride. That was the last word I had from them, but some time after that, I...felt...my bondservant die. Their bodies were discovered at dawn, piled near the Fount of Ebon Abundance in Hell."

Lin Birch spoke up. "They weren’t killed there? They were moved there?"

"Yes."

"Is a vampire strong enough to carry that many people?"

"Easily," said Colim.

"The drawback would be how awkward it is," said Philbin.

"And the intruder may have—probably has—servants."

"If we’re to track this thing," Birch said to the Lord, "we’ll need to know how to kill a vampire."

"I know how," said Colim. "I’ve done in lots of leeches."

"You are not expected to kill the intruder. If you feel you may do it without risk, then we appreciate it, but you are not expected to do it."

"Will we get assistance from the other vampires? Are there vampire fighters who will work with us?"

"Unfortunately, infighting and petty politics are the way of my kind. However, if you show the sign of my office, you should get a modicum of cooperation. If it comes to a fight after dark, you may request members of the Elite Guard to do the fighting."

"We’ll need iron," said Philbin. "Can you arrange for the permits?"

"Yes. Show the sign of my office at the Palace."

"Expenses to be billed to you?"

"Where possible. I will reimburse you for the others. The pay is five hundred nobles each, and a twenty percent bonus if you actually kill the intruder." Five hundred gold pieces was several years’ earnings, even for Philbin. It may have been more than Birch had earned in her entire life; elves of the Marsh were notoriously lax about money.

Philbin and the Lord discussed terms for a minute, but Philbin was quickly satisfied. Each of them formally accepted the contract.

"Thank you," said Lord Ajhimanalon. "I tire, and there are things that must be done before the sun sets. You may want to go somewhere private to discuss your plans. My remaining bondservant is trying to find other members to fill out your party. In the next room are badges of my office and a stick which has been magically mated to one carried by Annin Silver. He will be able to find you, should others agree to join you. Please keep me informed."

"We will," said Birch, as though they had worked together for years.

Colim nudged the others; in the next room they found the badges of Ajhimanalon’s office. "We want to be out of here by sunset," he told them. "Presumably the intruding leech drained the Lord’s servants. There’s no way to know what they told him, so Ajhimanalon has gone to prepare magical defenses. One of the intruder’s servants could be sitting on the roof across the street right now."

Birch led them to the Clan Frog Inn, where the innkeeper, Randwen Millover, greeted her. They deftly avoided trivia night and Millover set them up with a private room, fine brandy for Philbin, beer for Birch (on her tab), and "stew and a cup of hot water" for Colim. "I drink tea. See, I put this bag with tea leaves in the water and then I can pull out the tea leaves easily."

"Don’t the leaves get used up?" asked Philbin.

"Yeah, but I’ve got more."

"Don’t they get used up too?" Colim nodded. "What happens when you’re all out?"

"Then I know it’s time to go home."

After the drinks and food had been served and the serving lad had gone, Colim set aside his veil, revealing his ravaged face, and began to slurp his stew.

Philbin said, "I’ve heard of the captain of the Falcon’s Pride., Ramdwil Fommer. He’s very particular about dotting his i’s and crossing his t’s, but he plays loose with the spirit of the law."

"Smuggler?" asked Colim.

"In a word. He’s been known to supply questionable substances, such as unicorn meat, for his cargo; there’s always a demand for garlic flowers in Aegis. He usually trades between here and some of the smaller Ruesadan ports."

"If he did carry the leech," said Colim, "garlic flowers would keep it in its coffin. It’s a two week journey between here and Ruesada; the leech would be hungry when it arrived. At least it had the sense not to kill the ship’s crew and arrive on an empty ship. That always looks suspicious."

"You sound like you know a lot about vampires."

"It’s how I got cursed."

"How do you kill them?"

"There are four ways. You can cut off the head, stuff it with garlic, and burn it--"

"You have to burn the head?" asked Birch. "You can’t just cut it off?"

"If you don’t burn it, sooner or later some idiot will try and put the pieces together again, and sometimes they get better. It’s safer just to burn it."

"Even after fifty years?"

Colim grinned. Bits of redroot were wedged in his teeth and looked remarkably like damp bloodclots. "Fire always works." He sucked his teeth for a minute. "Second way is to burn the whole body. Third way is to drive an iron nail, two or three hand-spans long, through the heart. Not wood; the vampires just say that to confuse people."

"Through the heart?" asked Philbin.

"Oh, yeah. Through the head won’t do it, and if you miss the heart it just slows’em down. I remember one leech had his heart on the wrong side--"

"What’s the fourth way?"

"Leave him out in the sun." He chuckled. "They smoke a lot going up that way, but you stir the ashes once or twice and it’s fine." He drained the bowl of stew and licked his lips before refastening his veil.

"I think we should get our iron nails and then not do anything until morning."

"I agree," said Philbin. "We’ll go to the Palace and see Fungus, then we’ll get a couple of my boys and go out of the city to Rej, my smith. He’ll make us a couple of nails."

"Do you mind," asked Colim, "carrying mine? I have a little trick I can do, and carrying iron would prevent it."

"Not at all."

"What kind of trick?" asked Birch.

"I’d rather not say," he said, and she had to be satisfied with that. Colim took the mated stick, so that any other "employees" hired by Lord Ajhimanalon could find them.

The line in Fungus Gutterslime’s office was short: a tired-looking man, and two ichorous things that Philbin couldn’t identify. They were dealt with quickly and then Gutterslime turned his watery brown eyes on the trio. He smiled broadly, showing yellow triangular teeth. "Pontius," he said, "you’re out late. "

"Duty calls."

"Of course, of course. Thanks for the carcass, by the way; the entire family loved it." Gutterslime patted the small pot on his desk in a habitual way. It was rectangular and filled with earth; at one end was a tiny headstone. He noticed Birch staring at it. "A beloved pet," he explained. "After he fell apart, I couldn’t bear to leave it alone. A memento of happier times."

Philbin showed him his shield. "We need permits, by the authority of Lord Ajhimanalon."

"Oh, of course. Here they are."

"I hope you understand the need for discretion." The ghoul didn’t answer, intent on writing the permits. Birch noticed his broad scaly ears twitched. "I understand that Falcon’s Pride has been stuck in port. Perhaps Ramdwil has some meat that’s gone bad."

"We can only hope," said the ghoul as he handed out the permits. "Discretion is assured, Pontius. Good night."

"Have a pleasant evening, Fungus."

Next they went to Pontius’ home, where Pontius took out his crossbow, checked it over, and added a half-dozen iron-tipped bolts. Pontius roused his coach driver, Mayren, and picked three guards from his staff. Thus armed, the seven traveled in the coach out to Rej’s smithy. On the trip out, Colim amused them with more vampire lore. Birch was glad to keep him talking to take her mind off the smell of him. It was, she told herself, probably a consequence of the curse.

"They don’t drink elf blood, only human. They can’t cross open running water, except for a few moments at the peak and ebb of the tide. You’ll notice that’s when vampires walk themselves across the Blood Toll bridge. Some of them have a compulsion to count things, like sesame seeds or poppy seeds or wheat grains. A holy symbol may protect you, depending on your god and if your faith is strong enough. Mine ain’t." The others shook their heads; Philbin, at least, didn’t want to test his faith that way. "Only garlic flowers repel them."

"It’s the garlic bulbs for sale in the markets," said Birch.

Colim nodded. "But only the flowers repel them."

"They’re not in season right now, not here," said Birch.

"That’s probably why what’s-his-name, the captain, was importing them. In fact, that’s probably what happened to the promise-keeper. She was contracted to open the crate carrying the vampire, he’d intended to nip a little from the crew but couldn’t. When she finally opened the crate, he went berserk and drained her dry. Most vampires can go about a week without feeding before they start to go mad from the hunger. Some more, some less."

Once at the smithy, Philbin had to wake Rej and tell him what they wanted. Colim and Birch sat outside. For a moment, the rain had stopped

"It must be difficult for you, not being able to go across the sea," she said.

"It’s part of being cursed," said Colim.

"How do you do it?"

"Easy. Piss off the wrong god."

"That wasn’t what I meant."

"I know."

She asked no more, though she was beginning to be annoyed by the Dark Elf’s secrecy.

By the time they got back to Pontius’ house, it was the middle of the night. Pontius offered them a room. Colim asked for his own room, and was given it. They agreed to start the next morning, before sunrise.

The next morning dawned cold and gray. The drizzle had returned. They set out on foot to the Customs office; Philbin stopped at the local guard station and hired an off-duty guard for the morning. He asked for a non-human, and got Garskeen, a cheerful Barsoomian.

"Philbin," he said. "That’s not an Aegis name."

"My family’s been in town a long time," Philbin assured him.

"No doubt, no doubt." He turned his attention to Colim. "River Empire, eh? Was through there on my way to Aegis. Same boat as Greemayrisk. I came here to make money in the Circus, you know, but I didn’t make the cut. Greemayrisk did."

"The Circus is overrated," said Colim.

"Yeah? You going back?"

"Sooner or later."

"Me too. I hate the climate. Too wet. I guess it doesn’t matter to you people, but I’ve got itchy scaly patches from all this moisture."

"Try talcum powder. Worked for me, oh, two hundred years ago."

"Really?"

"Dries you right up. I had huge patches of skin sloughing off."

"That so? Well, where do you buy it?"

"Ask at a plasterer."

After this cheerful discussion of moist ailments, they arrived at Customs, near the Bay Door, and checked the manifest for the Falcon’s Pride. It was in from Limnicanth; the cargo was listed as six corpses bound for the Green Temple and a load of garlic flowers.

Philbin explained about the corpses. Greens on missionary work didn’t want heathens tampering with their bodies, so they were often shipped back to the main temple to be consecrated and destroyed with the proper ceremony.

"Six corpses?" asked Birch.

"Maybe six intruders," said Colim. "And their assistants."

The Falcon’s Pride was still docked; its docking fees were paid to the end of the month. ("Charging ship captains saves having to tax everyone," said Philbin.) The Pride was a broad lug-sailed ship. Her sails were furled but one of the lines had snapped. Some storm damage was visible, and it hadn’t been fixed. No crew could be seen.

"This looks bad," said Philbin. He stepped over the gangplank. "Ramdwil?" he called. There was no answer. The four of them began to search the boat. "There’s a peculiar smell coming from the hold--something rotten and earthy," said Philbin. "And garlic."

That’s where they found Ramdwil’s corpse, in the hold. He’d been split from gullet to groin; from the splashes of blood, Birch could tell that he’d been killed on the stairway leading into the hold and fell or was thrown to the deck. He’d been dead for two days, give or take a day. The Barsoomian said sadly, "Great. My shift’s started early."

The hold reeked of all the blood. Mindful of the Barsoomian, Birch asked, "Why wouldn’t the, um, intruder take it?"

"It wasn’t done by him?" asked Colim. "I can tell you that the swordsman didn’t have to be particularly good, but he was tremendously strong." The smell of the blood nauseated him.

"Ramdwil would have kept a second log," said Philbin. "That’s the kind of person he was. We’ll have to look for it."

Birch found the hidden compartment. It was written in Ruesadan, Ramdwil’s native tongue. Fortunately, Colim could read Ruesadan, and Garskeen let them take notes from the content. "Sure," he said. "You can’t take it away, because we’ll have to find his heirs, but copying notes--Why should I care?"

The recent entries had to do with the political state in the Dragon Lands. The Emperor of Ruesada had recently made a deal with the nation of Palliss to allow some "paladins" of the Riven Palm into Ruesada to raise a Holy War against the sorceror-kings of the Dragon Lands. The excuse was that the sorceror-kings were pawns of dark forces. ("And after they do, they’ll discover that the Emperor has fallen to the same dark forces and depose him," said Colim. "Placing some second cousin of the Pallissene king on the throne. That’s the historical pattern.") This political instability had led to Limnicanth getting a lot of business from anonymous persons, clearly nobility, who spoke with Dragonish accents. This contract had come from one of them, a servant named Seara Duem. She had contracted the six corpses and said she was going to book passage on a different ship so she could be in Aegis for the arrival of the crates. She or a designate would pick up the cargo.

He filled out the manifest with garlic flowers, since they always sell, and he merely needed to have a full manifest to make his arrival in Aegis less suspicious. He had excellent wind for the first nine days and thought he might set a record for travel from Limnicanth to Aegis, but on the tenth day he was becalmed. He managed to limp in after another week. His crew quit, which was normal after a trip like that, but he was hoping to pick up his mate after he returned. (Flipping back, Colim discovered the mate had had to go to a family function in Belucz. For an easy assignment like this, Ramdwil figured he could get by.)

They agreed they would go and see the Greens.

Thinking about Lord Ajhimanalon’s team, Colim figured one of two things had happened. Either the team talked to the captain and he gave them information that led them to the vampire, so the vampire’s minion dealt with the captain after the vampire dealt with the team; or the team interrupted the minion or vampire as he or she or it dealt with the captain, and were themselves disposed of.

Philbin listened half-heartedly to Colim’s slow translation of the log. His gaze kept returning to the hidden compartment. There was something odd about it; finally he realized that the bottom was actually a pouch or something similar. His fingers itched to pick it up, but he did not; not with Garskeen there. Had he spotted it a few minutes he could have picked it up; the guardsman had found a young urchin to run to the local guard detachment with news of the murder. One or more guards would be here soon.

When Colim had finished, Garskeen said, "We’ll have to search the whole boat. Ma’am, if you’ll search near the bow. Sir," he asked Colim, "would you mind searching the hold? Your eyesight’s likely better than mine in the dark." Colim nodded. "And you sir, would you mind searching near midships? I’ll take the stern."

"Certainly," said Philbin. "Before we put the log back, Colim, could you point out the names of the crew members? I’d like to copy them down. It will make it easier to find them."

"Sure," said Garskeen.

Birch smiled to herself as she headed for the bow. She had spotted the pouch and had seen Philbin looking at it. If the late Captain Fommer had been a smuggler, she would expect that pouch to contain money. She would not have expected Philbin to dip to petty larceny; he seemed too well-off for that; still that was how the rich got richer, wasn’t it?

Philbin began copying the names. Once he was alone, he pried up the pouch; it was heavy. It wasn’t exactly a pouch, he saw: it was something wrapped in leather, and the leather had been cleverly stained and dyed to resemble the wood. He hastily flipped back the leather until he saw the gleam of gold coins, laid in rows on a thin shingle of wood and wrapped tight. He caught a glimpse of a date: 2391 RVE. The RVE marked it as one of the Ruesadan lands, and 2391 was about three centuries ago, depending on which land and which calendar. Careful not to touch the gold, he wrapped it tightly and stowed it inside his belt. It was uncomfortable, but he had carried money wrapped like this before, when he was younger.

If this money were paid to Fommer to carry the crates and the vampire, a numismancer should be able to track it through its previous owners, including the vampire’s servant.

He quickly copied the other names and blew gently on the paper to dry the ink. He always hated the look of notes written at sea; the dampness invariably made the ink blot and smear.

Colim slipped down into the hold, not breathing. Nestled by the stern was a small bench and the lever of a pump, where bilge-water could be pumped out. Several bored sailors had scratched their names in the bench; none of them had been on the crew this trip. He examined the pump quickly. The leather on the valves was still supple, but it contained nothing hidden. He rolled up his sleeves and groped through the accumulated water, hoping to find something. He found a hiding spot, but it also contained nothing. Probably the mate’s hidey-hole, he thought.

On the bow, Birch noticed the old man approach but didn’t think much of it. He was carrying a mated stick, but they were not uncommon in the city. They were sometimes sold to tourists, for example. Still, the old man didn’t have the look of a tourist. He was spry and moved nimbly. Perhaps he had once been a fighter. It wasn’t until he stopped at the gangplank to the Falcon’s Pride that she remembered Colim was carrying a mated stick from Lord Ajhimanalon. "Hello," he called, in a reedy voice. He held up one of Lord Ajhimanalon’s badges; she noticed his gloves were of fine calfskin. "I’m looking for someone." She called him aboard.

He introduced himself—he called himself "Necessary"—and went below decks to meet the person who carried his stick’s mate.

Necessary made his way down the stairs into the hold, mindful of the dampness. He was grateful his arthritis wasn’t bothering him too much, today. It would when spring came, no doubt. He paused a moment to let his eyes adjust to the gloom, and then sucked in a deep breath. "Oh, my," he murmured, and gave a small prayer.

Colim came over and introduced himself. Necessary felt comfortable in the Dark Elf’s presence and warned himself to be cautious. It was natural to relax around the elf; he was so much like a vampire.

Philbin had begun his search of the midships when three guards showed up, led by a big older man who looked like he had been promoted for his ability to bash in the skulls of rowdy sailors. "Where’s the guard?" He had a deep voice scraped raw by time. Garskeen gathered the other three together to greet the new arrivals. His explanation and his introduction were succinct.

The newcomer introduced himself as Undercaptain Klayron. "Murder, eh?" He shook his head. "Probably a gambling debt. These old sea-rats always owe money to the, whatchercall, criminal element. Well, we’ll find out what’s going on. We’ve got a very good wizard, one of your kind, ma’am, who can probably show us what happened. I’m assuming it wasn’t you folks, of course. Garskeen vouches for you." He looked at each of them in turn. "Of course, I’ll need your oaths on that."

They swore. "Well, don’t you worry, folks. We’ve got an excellent mage who’ll take a peek at the murder site and give us a view of the killer. Then we’re sure to catch him, or someone like him." He smiled benignly at them (which, Philbin thought, was rather more frightening that the undercaptain probably intended).

Garskeen cautioned everyone to remain where they were and took the undercaptain on a brief tour of the ship.

Necessary looked briefly at the body. In the hopes that the blood could be used to track the killer, Colim took a small sample of it, wrapped it in some silk he had torn from a pocket, and stored it for later.

Emlin Heartoak arrived to cast a spell to re-enact death scene. Heartoak was a chatty elf who mentioned his desire to meet Death. The spell he was casting used Death as the focus; it was not a necromancy spell, per se, but a spell keyed to Death herself, that recreated the intersection of the deceased’s history with Death. Since the spell didn’t deal with the actual images in the room at the time, it cut through any disguise spells that may have been cast. Sometimes that was a benefit, sometimes not.

Necessary, Klayron and Colim observed the re-enactment. They saw a woman cut down Captain Fommer; Fommer had been nervous or afraid as he led her down the stairs. They saw her draw her sword, a huge hand-and-a-half affair, and swing to cut off Fommer’s head. Luck had saved him then, as he bent forward unexpectedly so the swing missed. He turned to face her then and she cut him from groin to gullet. The sword was probably of bronze.

In the meantime, Birch and Philbin spoke to crew at the two adjoining ships—had they seen anything? Crew on one ship came in just after the Falcon’s Pride, saw them unloading the garlic flowers. The other ship saw a woman waiting for the ship and the unloading of the crates.

Undercaptain Klayron bade them farewell. "Don’t worry, citizens. We’ll find the person who did this, or someone like him."

With deliberation, Necessary said, "Captain, murder is the most foul of crimes. Care is always required."

"Of course," said the undercaptain. Something in his tone indicated that he had placed Necessary in the category of "annoying but probably harmless fanatic."

Whether Necessary noticed this or not, he went on. "This may be something more than a gambling debt or a wharf brawl. Please use caution."

"We always do," said the undercaptain. He watched them go, shook his head, and went back on board.

As they walked, Colim explained to them about native soil and vampires. The vampire needed only a thin layer of earth on which to lay the coffin, though most vampires placed the dirt in the coffin, under a layer of cloth.

The relationship between a vampire and the soil depends on the nature of the vampire’s identification with the land and the place of death. A prince, for example, probably identifies with the entire land and can use soil from anywhere in his land. A tourist will require the dirt nearest where he died, since that’s what he’s tied to. This particular vampire brought six crates; that might mean six vampires, or it might mean six crates of earth.

There were three taverns near the docks. They went to the first one The barkeep sized them up and said, "Four-drink minimum!"

"We only want to talk," said Philbin.

"That leads to fighting! Five drink minimum!" The drinks were cheap, however, and Philbin paid rather than cause problems.

"We’re looking for someone off the Falcon’s Pride. She docked four days ago."

"That’d be Lanhi, over there." The barkeep shook his head mournfully, still expecting a fight. They carried their watered wine and beer They spoke to Lanhi Toer, a young woman who was very drunk. She revealed that the captain had been "prissy" and had been very upset when they cleared the garlic off one of the crates to make space for drinking. He’d had several people whipped. She kept winking at Philbin and hinting he could get lucky with her; eventually she gave them the name of the bosun/mate, Buto Cuemel.

Necessary explained to her that she could be doing something useful with her life. She took took offence at this, swung at him but missed. Necessary stepped aside with a grace that indicated to Colim that he had been a fine fighter earlier in his life.

They didn’t find Buto at any of the other bars (though he had been in there when the ship was unloaded to buy everyone a round of drinks); he was up at the Shipping Guild, looking for work. He told them what he could—the captain knew something of what he was smuggling but was a "left hand didn’t know what the right hand was doing" kind of guy. Confirmed that Ningal had been waiting at the dock. Mate asked and found out she’d been down at the dock every day; said she answered the description of Ningal Oathkeeper. In Limnicanth, they’d loaded the crates themselves, though the garlic had been loaded for them. Took on the crates first. Crates had been made especially for the trip, since you can’t use nails in crates intended for Aegis. (They have a clever dowel system instead.)

Necessary warned Buto, gave him his address as a possible hiding place if Walmer felt in danger.

They spoke to the customs officer who examined the cargo, Walmer Pitch. He had a long relationship with Capt. Fommer, hoping to catch him. He picked a crate at random (left open the possibility that Fommer might have known how he would pick the crates or that one crate in particular might have been hexed to be "attractive"). Pitch opened one crate, opened the inner box, and checked the corpse. He used a dowsing system to check the other crates for corpses; got four positive readings, two maybes (usually "because there’s not enough corpse in the crate"). The characters’ impression is that he did a decent job, but didn’t take into account the possibility that Fommer was on the lookout for him.

Both the Green temple and Lord Ajhimanalon’s home were in roughly the same direction; Philbin got them a private room at the Pleaders’ Hall to talk and look at the money.

In the meantime, Birch had a question. "Who or what are the Greens? What do they believe in?"

"Everyone should die," said Colim as he scooped stew behind his spattered veil. "Suicide."

"Well, that sounds unpleasant," said Birch. "They must be a new cult, then, or they’d have died out."

"Well, not exactly," said Philbin. "They have to discharge all debts and obligations first. That can take a while. And they’re fussy about having their missionaries brought home for cremation; otherwise, the souls might not be freed to go on to final reward."

"They’re deluded," said Necessary, "but harmless as such things go. We should speak to the Greens, though I don’t think we’ll get anything from them. Their name on the manifest was obviously a ploy to get past customs. They’ll be open past dark; they are a temple, after all."

"So will the Palace be," said Philbin. "We need to get you legal for carrying one of these," and he patted the iron nail under his tunic.

"We should also inform our employer," said Birch.

"It’s almost sunset," said Colim. "The Lord’s manor is not far out of our way. We can talk to him in person."

It was the cusp of night as they reached Lord Ajhimanalon’s home, and this time the door did not swing open of its own accord until they had knocked repeatedly. The Lord stood in the far doorway, safely shrouded in shadows as they entered. "Good evening. My servant has the night off. Please follow me and tell me how your search fares." Birch and Necessary took lamps from the table and lit them.

They talked as they followed him into the depths of his house, down a dimly-lit stairwell. There was depressingly little to say.

At the bottom of the stairs was a single sturdy door, barred on the outside. "I had hoped it would not come to this," said Lord Ajhimanalon. "Let us go interrogate my former employee." He unbarred the door and led them inside to a curious room, fashioned of bronze, brass, and .rock.

The lamplight revealed a naked man on a brass table. His skin glistened smooth and white; he might have been carved from pure wax byLomino, the greatest sculptor in the city. He had been bound with bronze cuffs and chains intertwined with flowers. Wild roses, Birch noted absently, wondering why he looked familiar.

Then she knew. It was Jayren Blackpine, the bondservant who had first contacted her, and Colim, and Philbin.

The sun set, and true night was upon them.

Lord Ajhimanalon pulled an oaken lever and stepped quickly across a broad gutter that ran from one wall around the table and back to the wall. Water spilled out of a spout, ran along the gutter, and then emptied out a drain set in the wall, enclosing the vampires in a square bounded by running water. Birch could smell salt in the water.

Lord Ajhimanalon used his single long fingernail (his only concession to that vampire affectation) and fed his former servant some of his own blood, then restored himself with a cup of blood.

Lord Ajhimanalon then took iron sword from a rack on the wall (it was standard Guard issue, Philbin noticed, modified only by having lots of leather wrapped around guard and hilt), placed it against Blackpine’s throat and encouraged him to lie down again. Colim looked speculatively around the room. He didn’t think it had ever been used before; in his experience, a determined vampire could force himself across that small boundary of running water. He (or she) would be drained afterwards, exhausted, for less than a minute—but a quick kill would ease that. And wild rose wasn’t always reliable. Still, the fact that Ajhimanalon had this room at all showed his seriousness.

Lord Ahimanalon asked Necessary to ensure that Blackpine was not being mind-controlled; Necessary did so. To the best of Necessary’s ability to tell, Blackpine was not under a vampire’s control. The old man stepped out of the square with the vampire.

They quizzed him. He described how he came to die:

After speaking to Oathkeeper’s spirit, Blackpine and the three others went to Fommer. Fommer gave them an address in Hell (4^th house on left on the street of the three gargoyles). They got there half an hour before sunset and Blackpine decided to break in rather than give the vampire another night to move and escape. But the doors were barricaded, the window was trapped, the servant fought them, and they found four of the six boxes. At one point, someone threw a bag at the servant; it broke open, spilling gold coins in the room. They pried open boxes: the first contained magical apparatus, the second contained the vampire. He woke up. He seemed abnormally strong, even for a vampire, and fought with a bronze hand-and-half sword (which had been lying in the third box, along with some bronze mail); the servant had been fighting with a knife and a small shield. The vampire could also turn invisible. The vampire matched the descriptions of Rinh Dudhayn; Blackpine said that the vampire’s name is Prince Rinh Dudhayn.

Colim "hypnotized" Blackpine ("I have a trick I can do"), calming him and hoping to get more details. The assistant wore an amulet with a peculiar design. The gold coins were the old Dragon Prince coins. A parchment in the coffin was a letter with the heraldic shield of a vampire house on it; from the details he gave (field indigo, mercury bar sinister, at least one sword or weapon mercury dexter) it could be one of over a dozen houses, including Lady Arabella’s. The servant was clearly the one who had killed Captain Fommer; her shield had been painted black but the outline of a dragon rampant could be made out under the paint. In his hungry state, Blackpine could feel both of his masters, although Ajhimanalon’s presence rather swamped the feeling of the other; he could only say that the other was on this side of the river.

"Do you know what his plans are?" asked Necessary.

"Only a vague sense that this time, he plans to do it right."

"‘Do it right?’" repeated Philbin.

"This time. I don’t know what it means."

When they were done questioning him, Colim kept the hypnosis spell up; there was no point in freeing the man to die in fear and agony. He ordered Blackpine to remain calm, and then the troupe stepped out of the room to allow Lord Ajhimanalon to fulfil his duty. Birch noticed Ajhimanalon’s eyes filling with tears, though the tears were the colour of blood. Outside, they heard a scream and the chunk sound of the sword slicing into the vampire’s neck.

When Lord Ajhimanalon exited, he had two sacks. He handed the smaller one to Necessary to carry; it felt as though it contained a human head. The larger sack looked as though it contained a human body, though only Lord Ajhimanalon carried it. They followed him to the courtyard, where a furnace/crematorium had been set up, and they burned the body and head. Colim idly wondered how many bondservants’ bodies actually made it into the flames.

Necessary was concerned about whomever had written the letter; he asked whether Lord Ajhimanalon felt the vampire involved would be a dupe. The Lord suggested that, although the vampire involved might not be a knowing accomplice, they might be an unknowing one. "In that case," replied Necessary, "telling these vampires would be equivalent to telling Prince Dudhayn."

"Sadly, yes."

"Very well. I will need to warn the Lady Arabella."

"I understand," said the Lord. "Now, please excuse me. The chores of the evening have quite fatigued me."

Taking lamps, they went to Lady Arabella’s, on the island. Kay, one of the Lady’s servants, answered the door. She had been bonded to the Lady for only a year, long since Necessary had established his own apartment. He had known her before the bonding, of course; she had been in the Lady’s service since she was a young girl.

"Necessary, how good to see you. Please come on; the Lady is meditating right now, but I’ll inform her you’ve arrived." She returned moments later and said, "The Lady will see you shortly. In the meantime, may I provide refreshments? Necessary, I presume you will have water or juice?"

"Juice, please, Kay." Philbin in turn opted for brandy, Birch for wine. Kay turned to Colim and said, "I see you are a Dark Elf, sir, and I’m sorry we have no elf blood available. I can however fetch you human blood."

Colim was acutely aware of the stares of his companions. "Wine will be fine."

"Indeed."

The silence as they waited was spiky; Colim sat motionlessly as the others tried not to look at him. Not here, thought Philbin. We can talk later.

Kay brought their drinks and led them into the Lady’s presence. Philbin was struck by her preternatural beauty: her face and form were young, but she moved with the economy and grace of her kind, a smoothness of movement that belied great age.

She and Necessary kissed each other’s gloved hands; Philbin noticed their gloves were identical in cut and design, though not colour. "Necessary, I am pleased you have dropped by. I fear for Lord Bejhant; he has forgotten when he is inhaling. The end cannot be far for him."

"I am sorry, my lady. Allow me to introduce my companions." Each of them was on best behavior; even Birch and Colim bowed. The Lady expressed her pleasure at meeting each of them. Philbin felt that pleasure was genuine, and thought she would have made a fine merchant. They waited for the Lady to sit, and then followed her example.

"My lady," began Necessary, "you are aware that I am now working for Lord Ajhimanalon."

"Indeed. I am most pleased. The Lord Ajhimanalon’s office has high need for one of your talents."

"I am sorry to tell you that a…rogue…has come into the city. He has already exsanguinated half a dozen people. One of the people who encountered him tells us he had a letter from some house of your people. He saw only some of the heraldic shield, but it might have been your sign."

"I see."

"His name was Prince Rinh Dudhayn."

She thought for a moment. "The name is familiar."

"I have seen his portrait here, in the storage rooms."

The Lady Arabella nodded. "Yes. Kay, would you fetch it?" Necessary told her where it was. "A prince of the Dragon Lands. I did not realize he had received the kiss that lasts. He was here something over three hundred years ago. Travelling. He developed a fascination for me; we had a brief affair. He was of your kind, then, even when he left the city. I thought he had long since had the True Death."

"What can you tell me of him?"

"He was an adequate dancer, a good swordsman, a fine strategist and tactician and a very poor poet." Necessary knew of the time she had spent on the elite guard, and knew if she said the Prince was a "good swordsman" then he was very good indeed, perhaps the equal of a Knight of the Riven Palm. "We corresponded before he arrived, I recall that."

"Are there any others left from when he was visiting?"

"Of our kind?" she asked, for certainly there must still be elves and others. She got the distant look in her eyes, so familiar to Necessary, that meant she had cast her mind back across the centuries. "The lamentable Lord Bejhant, I recall. Lord Staza. And the Lady Elamina."

"My Lady," asked Birch, "will the Palace interfere if we execute our duty with regards to this intruder Prince?"

"I don’t understand."

Philbin did, and he didn’t like it. "Will there be political repercussions for the death of a foreign prince on our soil?"

The Lady Arabella considered this. "I am not current on the Warden’s politics, but I suspect the palace will find someone else’s corpse and deeply regret the illness that befell the visiting dignitary, perhaps mentioning that if he had only announced himself to the authorities, they could have had the best physicians of our kind available to him."

"Thank you," said Birch. "That was what I had hoped."

Kay returned with the portrait. The Lady Arabella shaded her eyes to look at it. "The execution is execrable. I kept it because I rather hoped it would appreciate in value." She smiled impishly, an expression Philbin was surprised and charmed to see. "It has not."

"Is it accurate?" asked Colim. "Or was the artist one of those who removes imperfections?"

"In the time I knew him, his nose was not that straight, and there was a mole on his left cheek."

TheLady was too polite to let them leave immediately; they chatted for several hours, considered a polite time in vampire circles.

Finally, Necessary got up. "Thank you, my Lady. I felt I had to warn you."

"Be careful, my Necessary. The Prince had a reputation as a conqueror of sorts, not without guile. I vaguely recall one occasion when the Emperor was attempting to reclaim the Prince’s land, Prince Dudhayn made an alliance—I forget with whom, the military historians could tell you—and then managed to fight off that ally."

"I see. May we have some token to take to Lord Bejhant? If his mind is wandering, it may help to focus him."

She smiled. "Of course. I believe I have a bound quarto of Lord Kearalaminon’s poems here. Kay?" The Lady Arabella inscribed it to Lord Bejhant and then blotted the ink dry herself. The resourceful Kay had already brought an oilcloth to protect the book from the rain.

They left the Lady’s home cautiously, for it was now the middle of the night. Only the main road across Blood Toll Island was lit by lanterns, and the night was dark. In the dim spill of light from the main road, Birch and Colim could make out an old woman and a young man with military bearing. Necessary determined they were not cloaked by illusion.

They made their way to Necessary’s home, not far away, and almost everyone went to sleep. Necessary spent his time looking through his books, and discovered that the amulet worn by the human servant was an amulet of disguise that allowed the wearer to take on another’s appearance: the amulet had to be prepared with a bit of flesh, bone, or hair from the person to be imitated. It would grant the appearance for a number of times, the number varying with the person’s strength of spirit and the actual flesh used. (Heart flesh, for example, lasted longer than hair.)

A summary of people and places encountered or heard of, in alphabetical order by commonly-used name.

Annin Silver: Bondservant to Lord Ajhimanalon.

Buto Cuemel: Mate on the Falcon’s Pride. Seemed competent.

Undercaptain Klayron: City guard captain for the dock district. Players’ impressions are that he was promoted for his ability to keep order with rowdy sailors rather than his finely-tuned diplomatic instincts.

Emlin Heartoak: Elven mage used to investigate murders. He has a fascination for Death but she refuses to see him. "He’s a groupie."

Falcon’s Pride: Ship that carried in the rogue vampire.

Garskeen: Barsoomian city guardsman, hired by Philbin for trip across town.

Jayren Blackpine: Former bondservant to Lord Ajhimanalon, now deceased.

Kay: Bondservant to Lady Arabella.

Lady Arabella D’Aquino: Vampire lady, patron of Necessary.

Lallin Birch: Elven ranger/trapper/guide.

Lanhi Toer: Crewmember on the Falcon’s Pride. Likes to drink; Necessary tried to convince her to lead a better life.

Limnicanth: Ruesadan port from which the rogue vampire(s) came.

Lord Ajhimanalon: Vampire lord in charge of population control.

Magum Colim: Dark Elf.

Mayren: Philbin’s coach driver.

Necessary: Former retainer to (vampire) Lady Arabella D’Aquino, now in employ of Lord Ajhimanalon. Elderly but spry, looks like he might be a former welterweight fighter.

Ningal Oathkeeper: Promise-keeper, found killed by a rogue vampire.

Pontius Philbin: Import specialist, now in employ of Lord Ajhimanalon.

Prince Rinh Dudhayn: Prince of the Dragon Land of Blood. Necessary has seen a portrait of him, in storage at the Lady Arabella’s. Lady Arabella admits to having had a relationship with him over three hundred years ago.

Ramdwil Fommer: Captain of the Falcon’s Pride; now deceased. Prissy man who was careful about the letter of the law but not its spirit. Dealer in questionable materials.

Randwen Millover: Innkeeper of Clan Frog Inn, favoured by Lallin Birch.

Rej: Philbin’s blacksmith who works with iron.

Seara Duem: Name used by servant of vampire who hired Falcon’s Pride.

Walmer Pitch: Customs official who inspected the Falcon’s Pride. Seemed competent but with a minor grudge against FommerLunch/dinner at the House of Pleaders while they look at the money. Necessary recognizes the face from a portrait in the basement of Lady Arabella’s home.