Carousing for Havoc in Hamish's Hammock
The removal of the Mummy's curse was no mean feat. The sisters of Triannoma promised to not only rid him of the curse, but to "purge his soul of the great darkness that looms therin". In no shape to protest, Martin acquiesced… there began his anguish…
Martin was led deep into the inner workings of the high Temple of Trianomma, where he was stripped bare, and dressed in a robe of white. Three virgins and three eunuchs prepared a complex ritual bath. His skin was scrubbed raw, his hair and beard trimmed into ridiculous symmetry, the khol washed from his eyes, his fine sharp nails filed down to pasty pink nubs. His teeth were scraped and polished, removing their fine flavor and scrubbing clean most of his hard earned stains. By the end he looked more like a clerk than a warrior… but this was only the beginning of his torment…
For six days and six nights, Martin was forced to sleep in an isolated tower, overlooking the temples manicured grounds. This gilded cage was surrounded in large windows, which let in the cruel and blinding light of the sun, verdant plants bursting with clichéd flowers and buds oozed a noxious perfume, and bright colored rugs, cushions and tapestries taunted his eyes. The place was absent of wine or any libation (save a small carafe he was able to steal from an altar boy). They forced upon him a vile diet of whole grains, uncooked vegetables, and loathesome spring water. The cruel priests payed regular visits to discuss Martin's innermost thoughts, and he was forced to sit in a room with other inmates to discuss past debaucheries and triumphs (this part wasn't half bad, except that some of the poor fools would burst out in tears, repenting their roguish ways).
By the end of this week of torment, Martín was restored to health, but an unusual and wretched sensation lay over his consciousness, the normal throbbing of blood in his head was gone, the familiar twitch in his left eye was tragically absent, and the homey cough which kept his mouth wet with phlegm gone, making it nearly impossible to speak with his trademark growl … the world at large was visible with a repulsive clarity, and it was found wanting.
Martin needs healing from his healing. For such a dire circumstance, he can imagine only one individual up to the task - the Leech Voiron. A good bleeding and a robust prescription of Voiron's many mood and spirit altering substances are the only cure he can imagine. Unfortunately - the sawbones disappeared from Glanti many months ago. Martin will hire out a team of the best bounty hunters he can find (Whiteye's old gang should be looking for employment, perhaps he can rouse some of these reliable souls? Martin has the Goblin's head in a jar if references are required). In the meantime, Martin will rebuild his stamina through the avid consumption of fortified wine, and cigarillos sprinkled with Fflahrgnian "Piskie dust".
Martin hires on Whiteeye's old gang. Their current leader, a gaunt long-eared goblin called 'Zed the Bangle', shows no ill will toward the man who killed his former boss, and gladly takes Martin's gold. He and his men will be gone for some time while they investigate Voiron's cold trail. (You rolled a 2, spending 300gp and earning 300xp.)
Hanna seeks out the reclusive Neva, at her home outside Malinbois, with a mind for friendship, bringing a bushell of foodstuffs and household accoutrements. This follows when Neva showed up as Hanna sought to sell the blood of the questing beast (Session 54 - quoting your result):
Hanna sells the flasks of blood to the mysterious, reclusive seeress Neva, who comes to her door claiming to have foreseen Hanna's need for remuneration and to have brought appropriate funds for the purpose.
She wants to learn more of the mystical nature of gender transformation and the possibilities of someday switching genders back and forth.
Neva seems pleased by Hanna's gifts. Sitting with the halfling over tea, honeyed rolls and a savory red soup, she expounds on the metaphysical aspects of gender: its relations with the ebb and flow of the life-essence, its connection with positive and negative forces, and the mutability of flesh. She informs Hanna that gender transformation, like most polymorphic magic, draws its force from the powers of Chaos. Certain of the Chaos gods, such as the Sword Prince Xiombarg and the Trickster, are said to switch genders at will; invoking such a god is the most promising method of gender changing. (You rolled a 3, spending 300gp and earning 300xp.)
Weeks after their harrowing battle in the chapel of Ambrevillian demon-orgies, Richard's thoughts bend there still. A dark house of worship among a mighty noble house. His comrades left him to his thoughts, and returned a week hence babbling about dwarves and churches and farm-children. Pritchard seemed given over to the Bat-God again. The stalwart Martín was in the grip of some religious passion, and could hardly stand when last they spoke. Hanna was pursuing some mystic quackery, no doubt motivated by the enthusiastic (and, doubtless, unendorsed by wizardly house) acolyte that had begun frequenting the Company's quarters. What is the power of this magic over the otherwise sturdy, if not magically-inclined, minds of men?
The Temple of Trianoma. Something speaks to him. Something in that church. Something familiar…
Richard will begin spending money in Glantri in three ways. One, to ply Martín with additional wine, and wheedle from him every detail about his experience in the temple's inner sanctums. Two, to make some offerings to the temple, with an eye to how its clergy receive them. Three, to procure time with the city archives, beginning a project to learn what he can about the beginnings of the church and the construction of the temple.
The Temple of Trianoma is nothing new to a Glantri City tax collector who dabbles in magic, but Richard does his best to refamiliarize himself with the place, looking at it with new eyes. In an alcove off the foyer of the Temple, Richard observes a stone table where congregants leave tithes of food, wine, herbs and cloth. It is flanked by bronze statues of the goddess bearing urns wherein offerings of coin may be deposited; when placing money therein, he hears the jingle of a bed of coins on which his offering lands. Speaking with an acolyte, he affirms that high-ranking clergy will accept larger donations personally. With that knowledge tucked away in the back of his mind, he begins his investigations in the city archive, learning that the temple is one of the oldest structures in Glantri. The church itself traces back to the founders of Glantri, who are said to have come from a distant land named Averoigne "which lies beyond the House of Twelve Doors." (You rolled a 3, spending 450gp and earning 450xp.)
Richard Loubou seems to lose have lost his focus, gazing gausily into the distance, his mind seemingly called away by some siren song of his imagining, his cup poised mid-slurp, a runnel of amber wine dripping down his chin. A trick of the light almost makes it appear as if phantom wind blows gently through his hair in the otherwise still basement room of the Leaky Wench Tavern. For a brief moment, a passerby might almost image they hear phantom strains that see to have enraptured the pilferer's attentions, or a seductive voice whispering breezily in their ear.
With Richard buying drinks, Martín has discovered a new appreciation for the taxman. Toasting the dabbler genially, Le Black happily reveals all manner of recollections on the layout and experience of his time inside the temple during his treatment. He even recalls the times the party had visited the levels below, where the apothecary has passed on potions and unguents to the group. Their time in the secret downstairs of the Leaky Wench is well spent, Martin imparts a great variety of wisdom on the temple, life, and his philosophies in general.
Interestingly, a third member joins this carouse, the exotic priest Ja’ Tubis. Sipping while his companions guzzle, the holy man interjects a variety of questions regarding the healing experience in Trianomma’s temple, and the various tehcniques employed therin. Indeed the inquisitive priest has made several strange requests, including samples of the saliva, earwax, and bellybutton lint of the de-mummy-rotted Shadowslayer, which he tucks away in a variety of shiny new phials and jars secreted about his person.
Written by Lord Bodacious, player of Martín Le Black. Feel free to edit if I have misrepresented your character!
Ja', having finally acquired some funding for his religious studies, decides that it's time for him to start putting together a holy laboratory. In only one adventure he managed to acquire some undeadish dwarf blood, spider gunk, and the dust of some mysterious powerful neutral undead, but he has no practical way yet to begin analyzing them. He sets out to purchase as full a regimen of glass tubes, heating agents, miniature cauldrons, prayer beads and other similar religious accessories as Malinbois has for sale. Already, he has been humbled by the astounding variety of wounds the adventurers he has worked with have acquired for themselves, from being infected by dancing poisons to unhealing undead wounds to ghoul paralysis, but he is not discouraged by his inability to treat many of these wounds. His blood is boiling with curiosity, and a passion for adventuring is taking hold in his heart. It is a strange and wonderful world out there, and he counts himself lucky to have found a group of such bold and often-injured adventurers as the Company of Crossed Swords. Now is the time for him to begin his studies and hone his craft, but for that he needs equipment.