Hi, looks like we're on tonight for gaming. Last time–
The Baron's man Jett visited, clearly to watch the Uz situation, but he also nicely offered to teach Boamund Darktongue. Boamund was kept busy with that lesson and with managing the influx of new visitors, many of whom were gawking at the aeropod (the Uz themselves were harder to find and discouraging of gawkers). He also marshalled together past and new supporters of the tavern construction plan and got that moving again, with the new name for the tavern planned to be Aria's Rest. The stable was fully constructed and housed the Baron's gift of five fine cavalry horses, and the small palisade around the manor was complete and even decorated with some simple finery. Still, Aria's Well felt vulnerable, and rumours around the island percolated back to you, that its reputation was as a cursed, troubled place that should be avoided.
Fraud Shaven was busy meditating at the well, and at times the locals forgot he was even present. Ahappi was busy running searches for easy prey, doing his “duty” for the Baron as a privateer and fulfilling his geas to bring victims to Magasta's depths. He succeeded in that, calling Magasta's power to bring him fierce currents that helped him sink a Seshnelan trader that the Baron's sources (via Jett) were sure was bringing supplies to the mainland war effort. Maugis was off at Fort Mudlark; all you knew is that he arrived safely, with Orsattus the Unscathed and his mercenaries brought as bodyguards to get them out of the way for a while.
Miguel spent time with his family, fellow Dronari, and the Mraloti. There was some discussion of the Mud Hag; and the danger that Captain Ahappi represented; but he kept this private as Narak requested. He did not quite keep private another matter, that a colonist farmer living on the frontier near Aria's Well's land (but paying homage only to Baron Ron), had purchased a neat little device from some merchant. This farmer, a Pithdaran named Safiz al Zapar, had a mechanised little “toy” solider that walked around and shot projectiles at pests, keeping the household uncommonly free of them admist this horrid summer plague of them. Miguel sent a message to Maugis about this (it would be reaching him at the start of play today).
Cyroosta began showing her face around town more, evidencing that she was emerging from her reclusiveness after the wedding fiasco, but slowly so. She spoke to Boamund about concerns over the fumarole, that she had been visiting near there and saw it was acting more unsettled. Visiting it, Boamund and the Captain saw this was true, but could not find a way to safely enter (it was deadly hot, with little space inside, and full of caustic fumes).
It wasn't long, though, before the fumarole brought trouble to you instead. One night it rumbled and flared, waking most of Aria's Well up in the dead of night. Those with a clear line of sight to it soon saw the guard that ran to investigate tumbling down the slope, ablaze as a glowing form struck him down, and other such forms came slithering down toward the manor/harbour.
Boamund was first to face them, backed up by two guards, as Miguel and Ahappi ran to help. He engaged three of the creatures: half-faceless, slimy green-pink, fiery serpentine/wormy/larval creatures with long tails ending in bulbous spines, and vestigial lumps for arms and legs. They could breathe cones of fire (luckily his Fire rune essence protected him) and were relentless in combat, often erupting in furious singleminded flurries of blows once they were injured. He survived the 3-on-1 melee with masterful weaponwork and luck, in time for the guards to help out (and they proved remarkably effective!) and then Ahappi (who made short work of a couple despite taking some wounds) and eventually Miguel with his magicked arrows. A fourth one soon came downhill, and so did more guards, but the battle didn't last very long- you outmatched them with skill and cautious defense. It was no easy battle, though, and you felt lucky to have only lost one guard in the whole event.
You got healing, looked about the area for more of the foetal horrors but found none, and soon warily rested. Within days, the fumarole crusted over and formed a glowing, angry red-orangle bubble the size of a farmhouse, with waves of heat and acrid vapours coursing off of it. Clearly, the threat had not diminished. The Captain wondered what this might be, attributing it (as many others did) to the discord in the community that had let evil into the world here, and he scratched his head as if he should know more about this situation but did not…
So, most of Fire Season, year 1622, passed; there was just a week left. But Fire Season would not settle with all of this as sufficient tumult, as you soon found…
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