Chapter Zero: The Devils of Tides

I do some cooking. I'm looking for some blue onion skin and bay leaf if you have any

"Ach, blue onion?" Mama Berty snorted. "I ne'er touch the blasted things. Break open the skin o' blue onions afore they're ripe an' ya get a lungful o' reek that'll put yeh down for a few days. A nasty plant there. But bay leaf? Aye, I 'ave bay in a few bushels' worth! 'Ave a looksee."

Her leathery fingertips plunged into a waiting box within the cart and tore out a whispering fistful of papery leaves and shoots. "A pound o' good bay for two coppers. What say yuh, me bonny lad?"


Corwin >

Two coppers eh? I suppose I could spare that. only if it's quality goods though. <Corwin will accept 1 pound of bay leaves for 2 coppers, and go looking around for more merchants... damn this wet weather sucks....

"Ah, yeh wound me to the quick, me boy! These're the finest bay leaves an' other herbs to be found! Picked 'em meself, I did. Aye, there you be."



The bay leaves still held a smooth texture like that of lambskin, Corwin noted, not the crispness of old paper...very fresh indeed. If all the travelling herbalists were offering such agreeable goods at prices which the lowliest peasant could afford, then Ruprecht was indeed facing an earnest threat to his business.

Corwin took his time scouring the bazaar despite the vexing rainfall; there would be time enough to warm himself by Ruprecht's hearth later. And before long, Corwin found three more herbalist shops seated among the ranks of the bazaar. White Willow Herbs and Remedies stood at the edge of the bazaar, facing the dark forest eastward. Croduk's Wagon of Homegrown Delights boasted an ample supply with a meager variety; his green-stained wagon squatted along one the northern passages through the crude marketplace. And the most difficult herbalist to find was that of a small black tent, its sloppy handpainted banner proclaiming "Bloodwort Hollow" in an untrained hand; the wreath of bird skulls dangling over the tent's aperture suggested herbs and tinctures of a darker or less wholesome bent, and the nigh-skeletal elder seated within, fixing Corwin with a half-blind gaze, looked as if he wouldn't endure another winter.

Few ventured into that last dark, narrow avenue where Corwin had wandered. A burly hired hand helped his matronly employer break down a small wagon, its weathered, woodburned sign declaring the shop to be "Kiora's Semi-Precious Stones and Baubles". Their mules were yoked and eating a heaping bushel of oats from a deep pan, no doubt being prepared for a long journey home. And against the town wall, four dirty vagrants and knavish fellows were huddled within a cast-off pinewood merchant booth and seated around a small beer cask within, handing their coins and their well-worn playing cards back and forth in a boisterous game of Four Kings' Folly. If the bazaar guards knew of the idlers and their card game, they surely thought nothing of it.


Corwin >

i'll head back to ruprects to get the number of vials needed

Corwin shook the water from his hair and leaned at ease beside the hearth as Ruprecht emerged from behind the counter, a steaming glass retort held firmly between his spidery hands.

"Well, my lad," the alchemist addressed him, raising his voice over the fire and the seething contents of the brass cauldron which murmured in the hearth beside Corwin, "how did you fare? How many raggedy herbalists did you find?"

"There were four. No fewer and no more."

"Four? Ah, very good, young Corwin, very good!" Ruprecht beamed as he brought the retort to the vial rack on the countertop. "I had anticipated only two or three of them in this dismal season; I may need to pay you a bit more for your work, should you succeed in getting the vials to their recipients with all due clandestinity. Ah, there we are."

The retort's foul-smelling solution was gently and slowly poured into each vial. Ruprecht gave the vials of gray fluid a minute to air out and settle before squeezing a cork stopper into each of the four small glass mouths.

"There...yes, that will do quite nicely. Remember, Corwin, that you must not break any of the vials. Simply shake the vial vigorously, place it where the herbicide can do the most damage and get well away. After half a minute or so, the growing pressure within the vial will blow the cork out and the noxious gas will spill forth, polluting anything it touches. And above all, don't get caught by the merchants or the guards...oh, especially not the guards. So...that being said, is there anything else you might need from me before you go forth and earn your pay?"


Corwin >

what would happen if someone breathed in this stuff?

"It's an herbicide, a defoliant," Ruprecht explained. "It smells very foul indeed, but though it will kill and rot plants on contact, its repulsive vapors are not poisonous to most creatures. Insects tend to sicken and die when exposed to Ruprecht's Gray #4, but greater creatures who draw entire breaths of the herbicide will experience nothing more than nausea, possibly vomiting and, later, indigestion. The odor will cling to anything it touches--at least for a short while--but my concern with getting far away from the exploding herbicide was simply so that the guards answering the merchant's panicking cries won't find you at the scene with several more vials of suspicious gray chemical on your person."

The alchemist readjusted his spectacles and regarded a parchment of formulae in his hand. "So, then...was there anything else I might help you with?"


Corwin >

"If I could get 6 of the gold up front, I can get this taken care of quickly for you Master Ruprecht" (what were the stakes that those cardplayers were playing for, copper? silver? or what?)

"Hrrrmph!" Ruprecht snorted, fishing six Gilders from the lockbox beneath the counter and sliding the coins to Corwin. "Very well. Consider it an advance on your pay, then. I will see those vagabond herbalists driven from town in short order, yes?"




Corwin >

(((((it's more on the nature of hiring some thugs to do part of the dirty work)

"Not a problem sir, you know the saying, sometimes you have to spend money to make money, and you should see reults within the next hour"

"No truer words, my lad. Very well, then. Spend your gold wisely, and be sure to let me know how the errand goes!"

The pattering rain was there to greet Corwin as he opened the door and returned to the streets. Soon, the bazaar stretched before him, its miserable air still somehow attracting customers who continued to wander its muddied paths and crude streets.




Corwin >

Corwin returned to the dingy path in the bazaar, slipping past Bloodwort Hollow's sour-faced proprietor as he went. The subdued voices murmuring from the merchant booth at the alley's end still hung heavy in the dense misty air.

"Oy, Bragg!" one of the vagrants called to the laborer who dismantled Kiora's shop. "Our game's still open! Bring some of those gems to our table, eh?"

The strongman shrugged off the request and returned to his task of packing bags and wooden boxes into the wagon's belly. The card players' attentions had just begun to pass from Bragg and return to their game when they beheld a new figure approaching them through the mist and the rain....

"Good afternoon, gentlemen. Is this a private game, or can anyone join in?"

The foremost scoundrel turned to his three fellows for guidance, but his bearded cohort across the cask from him could only stroke his beard and regard Corwin with inquisitive eyes. Somewhat encouraged, the one nearest Corwin returned his gaze and tipped his broad-brimmed hat in salutation. "Oh, our game be open to all, so long as your coin is good. What's your name, my friend?"

Actually, the game has a little less interest for me than yourselves. I have need of three men for a little job. he'll take out one of the gold lile he's going to ante' up with it, frown, and then put out some of the coppers he has left.

I can see that there's four of you though, but I only need three... maybe that's what the stakes of the game can be? it's really a simple job, and i offer one gold up front, and one after.

The wall-eyed scoundrel to Corwin's right looked to Corwin, looked to his cohorts, looked to Corwin again and looked to his cohorts again, trepidly, as if hoping for a decision. The scar-faced vagrant across from him made one.

"One hand. Low hand sits here, others get paid and do the job. Deal?"

"Deal."

"Aye."

"Deal."



Big Beard, the dealer for that round, gathered all of the cards and shuffled the deck one more time. Corwin looked on with some interest as each man was dealt his cards. One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

Wall-Eye immediately threw his hand down on the cask without the slightest smile. "Three tens."

"Two pair. Jacks and sixes." Big Beard's hand joined Wall-Eye's cards on the improvised table before them.

Both Big Hat and Scar-Face looked displeased. "I got nothin'."

"Me neither."

"High card?" Big Beard asked with a shifting glance.

Big Hat nodded. "Queen."

Scar-Face paused a brief moment before throwing his cards to the cask in disgust. "Eight."



From where he could stand, Corwin could see no queens in Big Hat's hand. His highest card was also an eight.

"It's settled, then," Big Beard declared, ignorant of the deceit as he rose to stand. "Peet, you stay here an' keep the lamp burning. Dungan an' Needles, you're with me. Now, stranger," Big Beard turned to Corwin, "if you got the gold, we got the time. What's this job about?"


Corwin >

while they're figureing out who is going to win, I'll cast "fleeting fame"



It's pretty simple, 1 gold up front, one on completion. (corwin will go along to explain the locations, assigning big hat to the herb shop where he spoke with the vendor earlier) it's simple, just shake this up by your assigned place, and discretely put it in place, and walk away. oh, and the important part of this.. don't get caught. meet me afterward in the inns common room for the rest of your pay.

Now you may be thinking, "I'll just take the money and the hell with the job".. I wouldn't do that... I'd just do the job, and take the generous pay.

[Corwin makes his next Bluff, Diplomacy or Intimidate check at +2 due to his Fleeting Flame spell.]

[Corwin -- Diplomacy check (DC : Passed (13)]
[Fleeting Flame expires.]

Corwin could perceive the Devourer's dark graces touching the minds of the three scoundrels, though in truth the magic was not so needed after all. They didn't even think to ask why they would be paid gold in halves for so simple a task--nor did they question if Corwin would indeed be at the inn to pay them for the completion of their task--so blinded were they with greed. Even Big Hat--who had cheated to get the job in the first place--seemed trustworthy and entirely compliant with Corwin's wishes.

"Why, you must think us mad, good sir!" Big Beard protested through crooked teeth. "We'll not at all slight the chance at bein' paid double for such good, honest work...will we, lads?"

None disagreed. Satisfied with their concord, Corwin planted a gilder in each of their hands, followed closely with a stoppered glass vial of gray, nasty fluid. "Remember: we meet in the common room of the Gilded Lyre afterwards. Do not tarry once you're done."

"Very good," Big Hat surmised as the four walked to their errand. "Our generous employer has given us our directions and our equipment, gents. Let's take these suspicious alchemies and go test our fortune for some filthy ale coin, aye?"

But then, from the merchant booth receding behind them, Scar-Face's anguished shouting could be heard. "Oy! Oy! There's no queens in this hand, yeh rotten cheat...!"

"Aye, let's go...very quickly indeed," Big Hat added, quickening his pace without daring to look behind.

The bleak tent of the Bloodwort Hollow shop rose before them to their right. Corwin shortened his pace--allowing his three hirelings to move ahead--and, shaking the vial of Ruprecht's Gray at his hip, he made his move.


[Corwin -- Move Silently check (DC : Success (]
[Corwin -- Hide check (DC 5): Success (6)]
[Bloodwort Hollow vendor -- Spot check (DC 12): Failure (3)]

At the mouth of his vendor tent, the grim, old herbalist eyed watched Big Beard and Wall-Eye uneasily as the two scoundrels strolled past. So distracted, he did not notice Corwin steal up to the side of his tent, lift the tent's edge and roll the vial underneath.

But Corwin's boot came down a little too heavily in a growing mud puddle as he turned to leave. Alerted, the old man leaned out of his tent and craned his head to where Corwin had sunken into a low crouch. The poor vision of old age worked against the hedge mage, and he failed to notice the low, rain-sotten profile crouching aside his shop. Questioning his own senses, he withdrew into the dry confines of his tent. And Corwin, seeing the threat passed, circled back to the path and strode casually past Bloodwort Hollow, nonchalantly waving to the merchant whose day was about to meet far worse than mere rain showers and imagined noises....

FWOOOOMMPH!!! Somewhere behind him, Corwin heard a chemical reaction come to its telling conclusion. A glance back confirmed what he suspected: A thick, gray fog was spilling forth from the flaps and edges of the Bloodwort Hollow tent, and the old man was doubled over in the muddy street, hacking and wheezing. The fresh nightshade and garlic vines ringed around his displays began to rot and fall away in blackening flakes, a sight beheld even to the old man's tear-fettered eyes.

"No! No! What is this? I'm ruined! I'm ruined!"

The heavy air carried his words to two nearby bazaar guards, who came running to the old herbalist's aid and immediately faltered at the unwelcome sight of the drifting cloud of reeking herbicide, its reek grown even more pungent in the mist and the rain.


[Corwin -- Hide check (DC 12): Critical Success (19/Nat 20)]

Wisely, Corwin slid sideways between two wagons, staying low as more shouts were raised and more guards approached. From where he knelt, he could hear another loud, angry voice storming past: Scar-Face, howling for retribution. "I'll get ya, Needles! You stole my gold! Where're ya? I'll get ya...."

And then, a familiar noise, this time from the next street over. FWOOOOMMPH!!! Corwin's gold was beginning to gain its return.

FWOOOOMMPH!!! Another vial went off elsewhere. Corwin slid and crept even more deftly through the bazaar, taking winding side avenues around the alerted patrols. Guards cursed and ran about as a fourth FWOOOOMMPH!!! was heard across the bazaar from where Corwin lingered.


[Big Beard -- Hide check (DC : Success (18)]
[Big Hat -- Hide check (DC 12): Failure (]
[Wall-Eye -- Hide check (DC 10): Success (15)]

Doing his best to allay suspicion, Corwin returned to the road, tumbling a few coins in his hand as if he were another commoner out to do some shopping. He passed within a stone's throw of Croduk's shop and found his laments of "I'm ruined! Help me, my shop here is finished!" to be somewhat satisfying. He then made a deliberate pace back to the city gate and was drawn by a commotion not far from it: Big Hat, his characteristic hat soiled and drenched in the mud near where he lay, held to the ground by a burly guard bearing down on his shoulders. Three more guards attended the scene, with a stout-bodied, accusing Mama Berty and a wrathful Scar-Face standing amid them.

"Cheat me out've gold, will yeh? Gimmeh your gold, yeh bastard!"

Breaking away, Scar-Face raced in and delivered two solid kicks to Big Hat's ribs before two of the guards tackled him, sending mud flying and redoubling Scar-Face's curses and bitter vows. Mama Berty angrily shook a withered and rotting mandrake root in her thick hand, demanding justice.

Not a good place to be.


Corwin >

nope, not good at all place to be. i'll definately head to Ruprects to let him know about the sucess of the mission. i'll take a roundabout way, in case i'm being followed.

also, is it at all misty out? if so i'll be using obscuring mist, if not, i won't

The dark, cloudy skies hanging over Boughbog would hinder those who might see Corwin; the mist and the drizzle which rose from the scattered rainfalls, even more so. The guards would have no reason to link Corwin to the crime, but the nearby eyes of Big Hat and Scar-Face just might. One could never be too certain.

The mist created and gathered by the spell would be stationary, he knew, but it serve well enough to get him away from the scene undetected....





The unholy symbol felt colder in his grasp as the airborne droplets gathered around him, concealing his form from view. Confident in his spell's obfuscation, he made his way back to the gate.





"...If we see anyone trying to leave the bazaar," one guard behind him instructed another, "we question them. Four clouds of plant-killing gas in four different shops...most suspicious. See if anyone's story helps us sort out what those two gutter-dwellers have told us...."





Cunningly, Corwin avoided the main street and made his way back to Ruprecht's alchemist shop. Ruprecht looked Corwin over with a deal of concern. "Welcome back, Corwin. So...the vagabond alchemists...."

"...sabotaged, all four of them. They'll have no further business in this town."

A slight chortle rippled from the alchemist's growing smile. "Excellent work, Corwin, excellent work," Ruprecht beamed, tossing a readied pouch onto the countertop for Corwin. "I believe you'll find a bit more in there to pay you for your trouble. Ah, prosperity, how soon you will return to me...."





"It has been a pleasure doing business with you, young Corwin," Ruprecht offered in thanks. "Is there anything else I might do for you while you're here? You're already familiar with my vast wealth of alchemies, philters and ingredients...."


Corwin >

i wouldn't say evil... selfish yes, but not evil. seeing as two of those idiots got caught, it's probably a good idea to make myself scarce. time to take my stuff and go to the lucky heart and look up Gaston.

The Lucky Hart tavern's interior was dim yet warm and cozy, and the aromatic essence of lindenwood lamp oil coupled with the lingering scents of fresh rye bread and roasted meats. Jera, the buxom barmaid, sashayed from table to bar and back again, her white cotton dress shifting lazily across her calves as she attended the customers. Among those customers, so many craftsmen and merchants seeking respite from the weather, a table near the kitchen door propped up the foodstuffs and forearms of four guards, two of whom being Gaston and Norbitt from the front gate.

As the maplewood tavern door shut soundly behind Corwin, several tavern patrons looked up from their repasts to notice Corwin, and Gaston was one of them. "Oh, Corwin!" Gaston hooted with an eager wave. "Come! We've saved a chair for you!"


Corwin >

"thanks Gaston" Corwin said "I can't stay long though, Mother wanted me to get back home tonight, something about the stars being right or something." as he wrung out his hair he commented "It's purely Miserable out there today.""

Gaston loudly downed a draught of his ale. "Huh. Your mother still has more of that jiggery-pokery magic going on, I take it. Not that I have any grievance with mages, as long as they don't stoop to the black magicks...oh, Jera! Here now, lass!"

Approaching with a weave and a sidestep, Jera leaned forward beside Corwin, sending a cascade of soft brown hair pouring forth over her shoulder and onto his. "Ah, welcome back, Corwin! You look drenched to your bones!" she said, speaking directly at his ear as she rested his shovel against the table's edge. "You should try our turnip soup; you get a big bowl and a cup of amber ale for a pence today. So Ruprecht the alchemist mentioned last week how your mother had gotten sick. How has she been feeling lately?"


Corwin >

"That'll do nicely Jera, but only becaused I promised Gaston that id stop by for a drink and a bite. I'll probably be back in a few days anyroad." Corwin said

"In fact," Norbitt offered, slinging a copper coin to the buxom barmaid across the broad table, "I'll be paid a right bonus for standing watch for the mayor during the coming May's Eve festival. I'll buy Corwin's ale and soup for him. Mayhaps he'll continue with his tale of his mother's dealings, aye?"

"Mayhaps. I'll return anon, gents!" Jera pouched the pence and sashayed back to the kitchen as Norbitt brushed the crumbs from his girth and returned to his ale.

Gaston winked to Corwin with a thrust of his thumb to the kitchen door. "She's a right lovely girl, eh? A pity she's married to that lucky cartwright of hers. So what's this you were saying, then?"


Corwin >

"as to mothers dealings.. Well I have no proof.." Corwin sighed apologetically.

"The people involved would all deny it most vehemently. I know that usually, she just sells potions and such for the villagers, But her reputation as "The dark witch of Ainsley woods" is pretty well deserved. I've seen her use magics to ruin a farmers fields, withering the crops on the stalk and killing the livestock."

Corwin looks absently into the flames on the hearth, pauses for a second, takes a deep breath, and begins again.

"Lately there's been an increase in the wolf activity around our place that I can't explain. Mother is unconcerned, but I was hoping to be able to spend some little of what I've been able to save on getting a boarspear or something that I can use to keep them at bay, but have had little luck finding one that feels "right" to me."

"Gaston, You're with the guard, maybe you have some old gear available?"

"Aye," Gaston affirmed, "we've a small surplus of weapons at the guard posts in case any guard's regular arms should be lost or broken. We can't hand over any weapons or gear provided by the master-at-arms or the mayor or...fah, Lord Borogon himself, but we do happen across surplus arms from time to time. A fish merchant left his trident behind as he quit the bazaar one month; it seems he'd finally set enough coin aside to purchase a sailing boat and a large trawling net, so his days of spearing fish for his living were done. Come to the bazaar's guard post with me when we're done here, and I'll let you have it."

"...An' I'd like to ask 'bout the farmer who got his fields razed," interrupted a brown-cloaked stranger seated near the hearth, turning on his stool to face Corwin and the guards. "Old Bran O'Craddock got into a spat with young Wender Loraton o'er the watering hole that crossed their lands. Some of Loraton's cows waded through the pond onto O'Craddock's lands, trampled his chicken trellises an' set free a good six Tuckermond Reds, who weren't long for the world till the foxes got 'em past the fence. O'Craddock returned in time to see what had happened, took his spear an' killed Loraton's wandering cows on the spot...four of them, to be told."

The stranger finished his tin of ale and slid the cup across the table for Jera to find, then resumed his tale.

"I was one of O'Craddock's harvesters for that autumn, an' I was in the tomatoes when I saw it two days later. The terrible green cloud descended on the far reach of O'Craddock's land an' crept towards us, killing all in its path. The barley withered an' died, the tomatoes withered on the vine...I got the rest of the hands an' we ran from that cloud of poison as fast as we could. An' we passed the cows an' the pigs, who knew no better to run before the cloud washed o'er them...I swear on all that's holy, I never heard dying animals scream like that before. An' I'll never forget the sounds as long as I live."

Jera swept the stranger's cup from the table and took the stranger's offered pence as she turned away.

"So was that your mother's work, then?"

It was.

But would Corwin be wise to admit that?


Corwin >

"I honestly don't know whose fields it was, when the man came to our place he was hooded and cloaked. I'll tell you, I was never so scared as I was that day. I was supposed to stay at home, but I snuck out after mother left to follow her. Gods...I wish I'd obeyed her and stayed home..." Corwin shudders and gulps down his ale.