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The Architects of Betrayal (TAB) 29: RELEASE THE KRAKEN!

Updated: Jul 20, 2023

My poor baby . . .
I say that every time I empty myself . . .

Ah the glory of the high sees. Well, okay technically the Sea of Fallen Stars is a lake. Look, I didn't name the thing. And honestly, it kind of makes Lake Huron look like an oversized foot bath, so there.

Anyways, where was I before I was so rudely interrupted? Ah, yes; the glory of the high seas. The view. The smell of the sea. The spray. The violent rocking of something your inner ear insists with the persistence of a three year old should not move. And the sea sickness.

Speaking of sea sickness, the crazed zealot wasn't the only strange person the group met upon boarding the ship. Don't get me wrong, she was definitely the strangest, but there was also this surly old bastard who couldn't stop complaining of sea sickness. And they were still in port. Gonna be a fun one. Not sure how the gnome has restrained himself from poking the guy. Perhaps a sufficiently acidic personality (which was exactly what each querier was presented with) could drive away even the chaotically insane.

{DM's note: we got a late start this session, because a certain player who shall not be named (DAVE! hrrm, damn this sore throa . . . I mean, these sore finger . . . I mean my carpal tunn . . . oh to hell with it!) promised the group beef stew, yet neglected to start it until we were all assembled.}

The next morning the ship left with the swell and started its journey. Unfortunately, the group's dice were not with them and they became becalmed for about ten days. And despite the 50% chance of something happening they continued to roll squat. Except a pirate attack. The dice really really wanted to fight them some pirates. The only issue was I'd forgotten to give the group the various npc allies that I'd made for the crew in the last session. Being that these were full characters I decided it would be best to pass them out and forgo pirates until the next session. And of course, all the rerolls amounted to nothing happening.

Except the old geezer coming up on deck to bitch about sea sickness . . . while becalmed. And it was during one of these grating constitutionals that Tanic just happened to note a piece of paper folded into the inner pocket of the old man's trench coat. If you consider that he has less impulse control than the gnome at this point you know what happens next. Yep, he swiped the thing and ran to his room to examine it.

And began salivating immediately, for on the outer fold were the words 'Lost Treasure of Salt and Pepper Beard'. (Yes, this is what happens when you let me name things.) His avarice driven elation was short lived, however, for upon unfolding the map he discovered nothing on the other side except a simple question:

What is eaten but not grown, and was born in water, but will disappear if soaked?

Go ahead, I'll wait for you to google that. Yes, the answer is salt. So the cutpurse nipped down to the galley for pinch of table salt and spread it across the paper. When that failed to produce any meaningful results he began frantically grinding the ground crystals into the parchment. And when that failed to produce any results he dumped a bunch of salt into cooking water from the galley and submerged the damned thing. At which point a result was obtained: the paper began coming apart.

And wouldn't you know it, just as the frazzled rogue was retrieving the paper there was an infuriated scream from on deck. Deciding that he'd pushed his luck to the soaking point he quickly made his way to the old fart's cabin. A quick pick o' the lock and he dumped the map on the ground where he thought it might appear to have fallen out of the old geezer's pocket. Which would have certainly worked well if it hadn't been water damaged, and completely unfolded.

That night the captain had a bit of a chat (more of a threat really) with the group, and warned them that any further transgressions would be met with severe penalties. Of course the very chaotic nature of the group made it impossible for him to determine the culprit of the theft, especially since Tanic had kept his tongue about his sticky fingered escapade, even amongst his own traveling companions.

The next day the boat was attacked by a group of 6 Dragon Turtles. And by attacked I mean they were approached by a squadron of huge turtles, at which point Quagrim used his gnomish speak with animals racial ability to convince them to tow the ship in exchange for fish. Tricksy fucking hobbit.

Eventually the winds kicked up and the group left their turtle barges behind . . . just in time to run smack into a Kraken. This might have been a good fight, but the DM stupidly decided to focus on one character, instead of grabbing up all the bastards. And whilst it did that the group crowded around the exposed tentacles and hacked merrily away at poor little fish face. Truth be told, it looked like some sort of improvisational lumberjack convention. Severely wounded, the Kraken then jetted away, much to the bloodthirsty group of jack's chagrin.

Don't worry, he'll be back. Perhaps with a friend or two . . .

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