[Dark forces are gathering on Yag Island, manafesting as an undead cleric of Umberlee known as Salt's Wake and a Dread Necromancer called Vaelis Crowe. This is documented by Ganbar, Priest of Kelemvor.]
DAY 707 8th Alturiak (Feb)
Wake and Crowe were not satified with their cuttent digs in a lopsided and grotty tavern cellar so they spent the evening looking for a house to rent.
They found a suitalbe house, with a cellar from an Orc known as Pomer. She charged them 90gp a month, paid up front, no questions asked.
It was grubby and flea ridden, full of dusty and broken furniture, but it was private, which was the main requirement. They tried to get their zombies to clean up, but all they really did was move the dust around with a broom.
They spent a further 32 gold to get the house sorted out, better furniture brought, the water sorted and the place cleaned from top to bottom.
Salty complained that the place being clean should have been part of the original deal. Pomer snapped her fingers under his nose and walked off.
[Side Note: Rollo here! Just to update you with what was going on at the Barrow at this time.]
At this time Fenrir was taking it easy after all his recent adventures and spending some time setting up his house with Giselle. Griff was acting as a gate guard and a sort of Sherriff for the Barrow communities. Veddic was in theory meant to be doing missionary work on behalf of the church of Kossuth, but mainly he sat about doing not much of anything. One day Jamella Dotrok would be on his case, and most likely send out some missionarys to set up a temple.
Reinward was playing darts, hustling and picking pockets, Sparkledingle was studying, filling his library and talking to his tutors back at Mathghamhna. Dak was having a fine old time running his tavern the Fussy Gusset, while not turning a profit he was providing a fun alternative to Finchey's Inn and the west side dives.
And me? Well, by now my Guildgate to the FAMP (or Wastworld as it was also called) and attempting to connect up with the settlement of New Hope. They are 700 miles apart, but it is possible to teleport between the two place.
[Now back to the main story.]
DAY 708 9th Alturiak (Feb)
One might be forgiven for thinking that Wake and Crowe were almost at a loose end while on the island. I suspect they had a half-formed notion of building - if not an army - at least maybe a company of undead.
Towards this end they set out in the small hours of the morning in search of bodies. Most pirates and sailors in this region preferred to be buried at sea so their was slim pickings. There was an old graveyard though, mostly used by the locals.
They looked it over and determined that about a third of the graves were old, a third were recent (as in over the last 20 years or so) and a third were disturbed, dug up by actor's unknown. There was a gravekeeper's hut, but no gravekeeper.
They discussed how long it takes to exume a grave and the lack of law enforcement in town. It appeared on the west side, when pirates were in port one was killed in a fight about once a week. The east side of the port was more civilised and anyone doing murders here might expect to be hung or fined if they were rich enough to pay a blood price.
The gave up on the graveyard and head back to the west side, looking for rowdy places were a pirate might end up dead. They were out of luck, but the did bump into an odd Minotaur cleric called Drogash Murgath of the ship the Bedraggled Beaver. He was a cleric of Umberlee like Wake and he bragged in a shrill voice that he had 27 undead under his control.
Vaelis really wanted a corpse so he went into a bar to try and start a fight. He was utterly rubbish at this and ended up buying drinks for virtually everyone in the place. In this place they mainly drank 'Coastal Seaweed Beer' which had a strange umami flavour to it. If anything he made the place less likely to have a fight errupt in it by making the pirates happy with free drink.
In the end they just waited until closing time and dragged an unconsious sailor out the door with them. 'Come along Bert!' they said pretending the fellow was their friend. The tavernkeeper gave them a tired nod as they left.
In a dark alley "Bert's" life was ended and he was raised again as a powerful zombie. If they thought to grow an army through the sweepings of slum bars they would lack for both quality and quantity.
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