We picked up from last week with a bit of narrative blurring to cover getting the train re-coupled and back on track, leaving the adventurers with a day or so to recuperate and to make sense of some of the items retrieved from their attackers. While there was a small amount of coin on the bandits, the most interesting and useful part their treasures came in the form of well-crafted weapons and items made from unusual materials. In addition, the deceased goblin artificer had a number of useful gadgets that were quickly appropriated, including an everlasting stove, and a couple of fine mesh balls that are designed, when thrown against hard surfaces, to spring open into fine nets. They also recovered a docent from the artificer’s effects – a sentient device designed to plug into and enhance a warforged character’s capabilities. Ruin claimed the device and attached it – and certainly seems to have had his ability to spot unusual elements or suspicious characters enhanced.
The lightning rail duly pulled into the station at lunchtime the next day, and the party transferred to the House Orien caravan that was due to take them the rest of the way. Despite reassurances from the caravan master that the banners they were flying would ensure their safe passage, they did come under attack in the dreaded Marguul Pass by a mixed force of goblins and bugbears. They were driven off with minimal casualties, and were paid a bonus by the caravan master when they reached Rhukaan Draal and it’s infamous Bloody Market.
This is where the party had to get creative. They knew the name of the person they needed to persuade to take them to their target destination but had no idea where to look for him in a city of angry and borderline hostile goblinoids. We settled for describing the whole place as being not dissimilar to the fantasy equivalent of the court of Attila the Hun, with the measured temper of Klingons.
Deciding to mix the selling of some of the excess items they had with restocking supplies and asking questions, a good couple of hours went by before they had a lead that led them to a dark bar on the edge of the market. They’d been told to say a certain phrase to the barkeeper, and were about to enter when the group’s scout/thief/freelance locksmith came running up and dragged them away. He’d located the elusive guide, and was pretty sure that the group had been sent on a wild goose chase that would have led to violence. Given the number of smirking bugbears in the bar, they agreed to try his lead first – which led them to the Clenched Fist – known by the mummified ogre fist nailed above it’s door. If nothing else, the more varied clientèle going in and out made it seem a more likely destination.