¶ Session 038 - This is the second worst hotel I've ever stayed in
¶ The Pumpkin Spice Poltergeist
The night began quietly enough in a modest hotel room, where Otto, our resolute human Investigator, was burning the midnight oil. Attempting to brew a batch of alchemically infused "Insight Coffee"—specifically a pumpkin spice blend—Otto eventually succumbed to exhaustion, falling asleep amidst his bubbling vials.
But in a city like this, rest is a luxury. Roughly an hour before dawn, the horrifying sound of grinding bones and arcane magic filled the room. A towering, undead Grave Knight had materialized, awakening Otto with a brutal, critical blow from a massive hammer that nearly crushed the life out of him.
The ruckus did not go unnoticed. Next door, Nitro, the fearsome female Orc, heard the commotion, flew into a terrifying rage, and decided doors were for the weak. With a mighty swing of her axe, she obliterated the adjoining wall, bursting into Otto's room with a manic gleam in her eye. Right behind her came Clutch, the Tengu bar brawler, looking utterly nightmarish; under the lingering effects of high tide whiskey, his skin had turned completely translucent, revealing a terrifying, floating circulatory system. Clutch's unpurposeful attempt at The Tengu Bodies Exhibit terrified any hotel staff within vicinity, causing them to flee in terror.
¶ The Brawl and the Bouncing Bones
What followed was a chaotic dance of death:
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The Curse: Otto, after donning the Graveknight's armor for a significant time, became cursed by the Graveknight's wicked magic. The investigator's soul was gripped by a powerful force, marking him with the Doomed curse and magically fusing a cursed Gravenight shield to his person.
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The Disarmament: Nitro, laughing in the face of the undead, flawlessly maneuvered her axe to hook the Graveknight's weapons. With a masterful display of strength, she disarmed the creature, watching with satisfaction as both its hammer and floating shield rapidly rusted into nothingness upon hitting the floor.
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The Toss: The undead brute unleashed a desperate arcane blast of electricity, singeing the hotel walls and shocking Nitro. In retaliation, the translucent Clutch unleashed a flurry of blows, grappled the creature into a restrained submission, launched the armored monstrosity down the hall where it buckled the doorframe and cratered into the hotel room wall.
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The Final Strike: Bleeding but unbowed, Otto swapped his blade for a magically returning light hammer. With deadly precision, he hurled it down the hall. The hammer struck true, critically obliterating the Graveknight, whose form instantly rusted and melted away into the ether.
¶ The Great Concierge Caper
With the threat neutralized, the party took stock of their ruined suite—bloodstained beds, shattered doors, and scorch marks galore.
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Clutch, utilizing a bit of divine knowledge, successfully cast Cleanse Affliction on Otto, lifting the heavy Graveknight curse from his shoulders.
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Otto, donning his healer's gloves and wielding his baton, masterfully patched up the battered party.
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Nitro proved she possessed skills beyond warfare, expertly tailoring a fabulous boxer's robe with out of purple cloth (Complete with the words "Beak of the East" written on the back) to cover Clutch's exposed, translucent veins.
Marching down to the lobby as a horrifying, skinless collection of veins in a robe, Clutch terrified the remaining hotel staff, who fled screaming into the night.
Taking advantage of the empty desk, Clutch wrote a strongly worded complaint note threatening legal action due to the earlier events, signed it "The Cursed Translucent Person, Clutch" and happily refunded the party their 30 gold pieces from the till.
¶ Clutch's Formal Complaint
"I hope you realize that your hotel has cursed me and I am very upset about this. We'll be coming back to discuss legal action. You'll be hearing from my lawyer.
- The Cursed Translucent Person, Clutch. Room 237"
Otto took a moment to expertly decipher the concierge's private correspondence, and he found mundane housekeeping notes involving scheduling and a guest log.
¶ Blackrock Under The Blackstone Guestbook
1 Gozran
Countess Veleza Sarini — Taldan noble and patron of the arts.
A charming and generous guest. Hosted several candlelit salons concerning the restoration of a long-abandoned theater in the Ivy District. Left behind a sealed invitation addressed only to “those with courage and refined taste.”
2 Gozran
Magister Othar Venn — Lecturer of the Arcanamirium.
Spent long evenings reviewing brittle star charts and old harbor records in the tea lounge. Quietly inquired whether anyone at the inn had experience recovering objects from collapsed vaults beneath the Wise Quarter.
3 Gozran
Admiral Seraphine Holt — Officer of the Kortos Fleet.
Requested private dining while awaiting word from a patrol ship overdue near the Cairnlands shoreline. Reward offered for reliable information regarding the vessel Western Gale and its missing officers.
4 Gozran
Lady Ysillara of Kyonin — Elven diplomat.
Frequently visited the moon garden at dusk carrying a silver music box that occasionally played on its own. Asked discreetly whether anyone had seen “a pale man with gold eyes” attending recent gatherings in the Petal District.
5 Gozran
Valkus Brennor — Venture-Captain of the Pathfinder Society.
Shared several entertaining expedition stories with patrons over wine. Mentioned seeking capable adventurers for a confidential journey into newly uncovered ruins somewhere within the Cairnlands.
6 Gozran
The Pearl Regent of Jalmeray — Traveling Vudrani aristocrat.
Maintained a dignified but secretive stay. Several heavily guarded crates arrived during the night from the Docks district bearing no shipping marks. Rumors among the staff suggest the contents were neither treasure nor trade goods.
7 Gozran
High Curate Ellowyn Mareth — Priestess of Shelyn.
Hosted a memorable gathering of artists and musicians in the courtyard. Confided to the innkeeper that a gifted sculptor from the Coins district vanished shortly after claiming to have discovered “the perfect face hidden in marble.”
8 Gozran
Master Sven Svenny Svensen — Adventurer and traveler.
Quickly became popular in the common salon for his lively stories and impossible card tricks. Departed early after receiving a mysterious letter sealed with black wax, leaving behind only the note: “Tell them I finally found the door beneath Westgate.”
¶ Lord of the Flies & The Widow's Weeps
The trio then journeyed through the Petals District to the grand estate of Margaret Aswold. Outside the manor, Nitro proved her connection to nature and the lingering effects of High Tide Whiskey, by befriending a local fly named Baxter. Bribing him with the promise of "sweaty cheese," Nitro convinced the tiny, vomiting scout to ride on her shoulder and keep an ear out for danger.
Inside, the party was met by Marge and her stoic aide-de-camp, Skinner. Otto delivered the grim news: her husband, Thomas, had likely met a violent and terrifying end in the Drownyard. Overcome with grief after reading her husband's sobering diary entry, Marge wept and retreated to her study, leaving the heroes alone with Skinner.
¶ The Aeon Lodestar Revelation
Once Marge was gone, Skinner revealed his true hand. He produced a strange, gem-studded rod that played a secret, prerecorded message from the late Thomas Aswald.
The recording unraveled a massive conspiracy:
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The Façade: The Aswald family was broke, their Taldane prestige a hollow shell.
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The Grand Design: Thomas had discovered the secrets of the Arodenic Lodestar, an engine of five magical Aeon Stones that once kept Beldrin’s Bluff afloat.
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The Race: Fearing the greedy Aspis Consortium would salvage the stones for profit, Thomas intended to find them himself to restore the district's leyline.
Thomas's Scavenger Hunt Itinerary:
| Location | Objective |
|---|---|
| The Drownyard (Tri-Tower Yard) | To find the Vitality Stone, the core Aeon stone that fed life into the network. |
| Arboretum Arcanis | The shattered botanical palace holding the Lodestar's ancient cooling mechanisms. |
| Tower of the Horn | To retrieve sub-vault containment rods necessary for handling hyper-charged stones. |
| Tower of the Broken Shield | The physical anchor of the Lodestar, holding the trapped essence of the Archmage Beldrin. |
| Forae Logos (Silent Wing) & Arcanamirium | To seek forbidden celestial alignments, Aeon stone locations, and seismic records to translate the required incantations. |
¶ Thomas's Message
18th of Abadius, 4726 AR
The candles have sputtered into a dismal heap of tallow, and the incense in my study has long since surrendered its ghost, leaving nothing but a fine, grey ash and a bitterness upon the tongue. There is a fever behind my eyes that no apothecary’s draught could soothe. For months, the preening peacocks of the Petals District have looked askance at the Aswald name, whispering behind lace fans that our prestige is but a hollow shell, a mere phantom of Taldane glory supported by nothing more than clever bookkeeping and dwindling coffers. Let them wag their idle tongues. They are content to scavenge the crumbs of the present, while I have laid my hands upon the very marrow of the past.
My dear Margaret, bless her patient soul, departed for the Docks before the first grey streak of dawn. She labors there with a tireless devotion, her gentle hands stained with the indelible ink of customs levies, her mind weary from the Herculean task of stitching together the tatters of our family finances. It is a heavy burden she carries upon those slender shoulders. If she knew the nature of the work I have undertaken, she would surely plead with me to stay; she would see only the peril to my person and the ruinous cost of my research. She sees the world as a place of ledgers and logic, but I have looked into the abyss and seen a different truth. I must keep these secrets locked away, a silent sentinel for her own protection. Should I fall, she must be found innocent of my ambitions; should I succeed, she shall never again have to soil her fingers with the business of trade.
I have bartered away a small kingdom of gold and favors to secure the fragmentary ledgers of the late Archmage Beldrin. They are wretched things, water-damaged and smelling of the grave, but the schematics I pulled from the vellum today have set my heart to a gallop. The calamitous fall of Beldrin’s Bluff was no mere accident of the earth, nor was it a simple abandonment by the divine. It was the catastrophic dissolution of the Arodenic Lodestar. This engine of terrible complexity was composed of etched lead and cold iron, powered by a specific configuration of five Aeon Stones. By anchoring these stones to a resonant sliver of Beldrin’s own essence, the Archmage fashioned a stable, artificial ley line, a tether that held the district aloft against the very heavens. When the Starstone went silent, that tether snapped. It fractured into a thousand discordant notes, and the harmonics of the Bluff turned from a celestial lullaby into a piercing scream.
If the Lodestar survived that terrible descent, the power latent within its stones is beyond the reckoning of mortal men. I can feel the pull of it even now, a dull throb in the air. But I am not the only one listening to the music of the spheres. Those vultures of the Aspis Consortium are circling already, their greasy fingers twitching over salvage permits near the shoreline of the Precipice. They are clumsy, rapacious creatures who possess deep pockets but a complete absence of academic restraint. If they should find the Lodestar first, they will strip the stones like carrion and leave the essence to rot in the mud.
I cannot entrust this endeavor to mercenaries. Sellswords have no loyalty save to the clink of coin, and a single loose-lipped drunkard in a Puddles tavern would bring the Consortium down upon my throat. I must descend into the mire myself. For a week, I have practiced the somatic gestures of my shielding spells until my fingertips wept blood. I shall discard my silks for the rough wool of a common laborer and move as a ghost among ghosts. I shall ensure that the Lodestar’s legacy is preserved by a mind worthy of its terrible weight.
My dark pilgrimage begins at the Tri-Tower Yard. This place was once the beating heart of the district’s magical academia and the resting place of the vitality stone, the core Aeon Stone that fed life and stability into the Lodestar’s network. If the stones were cast out during the fall, the residual trails of the ley line will likely pool in those shadowed corners, attracting creatures that feed greedily upon magical distortion. From there, I must make my way to the Arboretum Arcanis, that shattered palace of glass where the Lodestar’s cooling mechanism once breathed through the roots of crystalline trees. The Aspis have been seen sniffing about the perimeter, and I must find the resonance chamber hidden beneath that petrified soil before their boots defile it.
Only then shall I approach the primary nexus: the three-headed spectre of Beldrin’s Towers. I will start at the Tower of the Candelabra to secure the calibration tools from the upper observatory, provided I can elude the faculty ghosts who still haunt the higher floors. Then, I must strike for the Tower of the Horn, where the air is thick with the scent of ozone and wild magic. I require the containment rods from its sub-vaults; without them, the handling of a hyper-charged Aeon Stone would burn my very soul to a cinder. The end of my journey lies at the Tower of the Broken Shield. This was the Lodestar’s physical anchor, and I suspect the subterranean Harmonic Well beneath its base still holds a portion of Beldrin’s essence, trapped and wailing in the dark.
Yet, my map is a thing of shreds and patches. My ledgers are but fragments, and I do not yet know the location of every component. I harbor a suspicion that the Forae Logos holds more than mere dust in its labyrinthine galleries. Within the hushed and censored archives of the Silent Wing, there surely exists a census of celestial alignments that Beldrin deemed too volatile for the eyes of his peers. I must seek the hidden coordinates of the remaining stones within those forbidden shelves.
Furthermore, I believe the Arcanamirium in the Wise Quarter possesses certain seismic records from the very hour of the disaster. I suspect the jagged ink-strokes upon those scrolls represent the Lodestar’s final, desperate frequencies. From those lines, I might divine the true names and phonetics of the required incantations. Even the Spiral Shrine, that twisting monument to the stars now choked by the rot of the Precipice, beckons me. I suspect the priests who tended its winding path held more than simple faith; they likely possessed the liturgical keys to the very ritual I seek, hidden within their cyclic chants to the Heavens. I must scour the deepest, most decrepit ruins remaining in the Quarter to understand these missing pieces. Without the ritual, the stones are merely pretty rocks. With it, I can re-anchor the ley line and restore what was lost.
The air in the Petals District feels thin and stagnant tonight. Down in the mud and the ghosts of the Precipice, there is a vibration of real power. Let the Council keep their tea parties and their hollow titles. I will have the Lodestar. The humming in my teeth is getting louder. I leave at moonrise.
To my dearest Margaret,
If these words meet your eyes, it means I have not returned from the Precipice, and my silence has lasted longer than any business trip could justify. I implore you, do not come looking for me. The air of that place is not for you. Go to the floorboards beneath the heavy trunk in my study. You will find the remaining gold and the deeds to the Taldane estates. Sell them immediately. Do not haggle. Take the coin and leave Absalom for Oppara. You have worked far too hard to be dragged down by my ambitions. I only ever wanted to give you a world where you did not have to stain your hands with ink. Please, forgive me for the secrets I have kept.
Your Thomas
¶ The Stashed Secret
The recording ended with Thomas begging Marge to sell their remaining deeds and flee to Oppara if he did not return. Skinner coldly confessed that he had hidden this recording from Marge, intending to "handle" the Aswold estate himself.
Otto's sharp investigative instincts flared; a quick assessment of Skinner's shifting eyes and evasive demeanor confirmed the bodyguard was entirely full of lies and up to no good.
But the truest twist of fate? As the party realized Thomas had perished at his very first stop in the Drownyard looking for the Vitality Stone, they checked their own pockets. Sitting quietly in their communal stash, looted from that very same yard, was a glowing Aeon Stone. The heroes had the key all along.