I: Something is Rotten in Grim Biskerstaf
It is a gray day in the city of Grim Biskerstaf, the largest city south of Fesselburg, the capital of the Kingdom of Fesselmark. Biskerstaf is a bustling place, a busy port and a refuge for many of those displaced during the civil war that wracked the Evening Lands. Indeed, among its citizenry it now counts hundreds or perhaps even thousands of refugees displaced by the tragedies at Pomperburg, as well as deserters from both the King's and the Traitor's armies. A walled city originally built by the elves in an age past, the red stone of Biskerstaf’s once stalwart defenses is now worn and crumbling, bleached and pitted by the sun, rain, and wind. The ruins of an ancient temple still crown Lord's Hill in the middle of the city, and the surrounding noble houses and villas are stone and have great permanence. The lower city, though, is newer and more crudely constructed, having been razed by goblin raiders from the Cragtops several times in the last two centuries. The citizens rebuild anew each time, but with structures of wood, wattle, and daub rather than redstone and slate.
The Vessen is the lifeblood of the place -- the massive, half-mile wide river that flows slowly from the lands and lakes in the north to the wide ocean a few scant leagues south of Grim Biskerstaf. And it is that river that brings a frown to the face of Magistrate Donaras Navari. A sour-faced man in the best of times, his expression now, as he overlooks the city from the second tallest tower in the central Fortress of Strumdorf, is one of complete and abject disdain. All the weighty troubles that should worry Lord Kelberond, they are like stones and chains around the neck of the Magistrate instead. Lord Kelberond is a fool who Navari helps prop up, a man unqualified in all respects to rule one of the Kingdom's greatest cities. The man was confused as to what room he was in half his life -- how could be be expected to keep the Little Council in check? To play the Docker's Guild off against the Fish Mongers, to press the often shiftless City Guard to improve the walls and other failing defenses, and to watch the Priests of the Red King carefully. Those dangerous, red-robed men had been cast out of the capital by Queen Isalodora and Viscount Rubrix -- who many said actually ruled the Kingdom now, with King Pelleron IV so long out of the public's eye.
Smaller things, too, bothered the man.
The children down on the docks, dressed as goblins and pretending to attack Biskerstaf's citizenry. Outrageous! The colorfully gilded, magnificently rigged trade ship in the harbor from Far Hissain. Worrisome! Kelberond’s strange daughter Meageller, who had holed up in the Fortress's tallest tower with her legion of cats. A woman most peculiar.
Worst of all, though, was that Lord Kelberond seemed blind to The Blight. True enough, that reviled sickness was primarily affecting the poor and the downtrodden outside of Lord’s Hill, but who was to say it wouldn't one day spread among the noble houses? Among the artisans and craftsmen? Among the wizards who teach strange magics to those who can find the College of Doors, or the ardent clergy of Thrice Blessed?
The befouled river was the key to it, the Magistrate was certain. So certain that he'd decreed that the city would pay silver to anyone working to skim the frothy, chunky scum from the surface of the sluggish, dark water. Terrible things had been found floating in the river lately, and to Donaras's eye it would only improve the situation if those atrocities were fished out and incinerated by members of the Golden Crown -- blight hunters and confessors charged by the King with rooting out the last of the demonic taint left behind by the Traitor and his dark allies.
It is the promise of that silver, then, that starts our story...
The Docks
A fisherman's ship is just tying up to a stout wharf as two men from the City Guard approach, gaffs in hand, followed by none other than Confessor Tyrinious. That tall, grim-face ghoul has doubled the bounties on the vile sludge in the river, making collecting it a more lucrative enterprise than fishing itself, with pennies paid by the bucket, and silvers by the barrel. The witchhunter wears a sword on his hip -- normally frowned upon inside the city’s walls -- dark leather armor beneath a beautifully made black and silver cloak, and a broad-rimmed hat. He is about to ask the boat's occupants about their 'catch' when a musclebound dock worker with one ear and a heavily scarred bald head cuts in.
"Right! You there, deadfish! Get this floatin' pile of shite off my dock! We need to make room for the Crystal Serpent!" the man shouts at he points, out into the river where the ornate merchantman from Far Hissain is anchored, patiently waiting to finally complete its long journey. The foreign ship would be laden with spices and silks, no doubt, and other exotic treasures that tickled the minds of the curious.
Tyrinious steps forward, peering at something floating in the water behind the ship -- some gelatinous, jellyfish-like mass it looks to have towed. "What's that, then?" he says with his usual intensity and gravel tone. "There, in the water?"
Please introduce your PCs, everyone! What do you look like, what are you wearing and carrying, why are you serving on Foghorn's ship for this loathsome task rather than toiling at your own career? Is it as simple as this being one of the best ways to make money in the city at present? Are you lying low? Skimming shit and scabby, fleshy bits from the water isn’t pleasant, but it is relatively easy money. And this large find you’re towing (the jellyfish-like mass the Confessor is pointing to) may be worth a good amount to the Golden Crown (the blight hunters / witch hunters group Tyrinious belongs to). The eight-foot-wide mass was found near where the city has some sewer outfalls pouring into the river, and you towed it from there.
Foghorn -- what is the name of your vessel, and who do you still owe a debt to for it?
Banio - you've run across this Confessor before. Why is it you’d prefer he does not remember you?
Lambert - you were once employed by Meageller, the daughter of Lord Kelberond -- the city's ruler. She revealed to you a door through which you found that wizard’s tower in your background... he hunts you to this day, but there was a handsome payment for the tome stolen from his library. A messenger carried a letter from her this morning, and she has asked to meet near the Dredge at midnight to arrange more work.
Rausimod - how will you use the coins earned from this skimming expedition to further your (outlawed) cause / faith?
Trusova - you know someone with the Blight. (An awful sickness that lends a greenish cast to the skin, then sees the victim suffer vomiting, sores, and often eventually death.) Who is it and how will the coins earned today help?