Do you go to the dungeon?

**This is an old revision of the document!**

Diary

Just creating the document so we can fill it in tonight♥

Zakhara month names:

  • Taraq
  • Masta
  • Magarib
  • Gammam
  • Mihla
  • Qawafil
  • Holy day of Ahad
  • Holy day of Atnen
  • Holy day of Salas
  • Holy day of Arba
  • Holy day of Yasad
  • Safa
  • Dar
  • Riyah
  • Nau
  • Rahat
  • Saris

Months have 30 days, and the five holy days don't have any months, they just come after 30th of Qawafil and before 1st of Safa.

#boatmode Session Zero

The party is

  • Jalara abd-Jamil, a bugbear corsair
  • Djut, a goblin corsair
  • Keeze, a goblin sa’luk
  • Na’im al-Qadib, an air genasi flamewind sorcerer

Everyone has a shared goal: to get onboard a ship by capturing the Sea Ghost. Unfortunately they don’t really know much about that ship.

The two corsairs also want revenge on the pirates on Sunless Island.

Keeze and Na’im have a shared past… that they don’t know about. They’ve both suffered memory loss. They used to be level 12 characters with some kind of relationship – the nature of that relationship is still a mystery – but one of them used a Wish “I wish we had never met” which reset their lifes and wiped their memories. Back to level 1. Back to the old fishing village.

Keezes dagbok

jag vet att jag har minnesluckor men det är ändå inte så konstigt efter alla fester jag varit på och allt man rökt, druckit och testat på där

ta det lugnt?! haha nej det kommer inte hända. måste ju hänga med i svängarna, skvallra, dansa och allt det där… jag är en livsnjutare in i märgen

men… det känns som att jag har varit vassare med kniven och snabbare på fötterna eller att jag borde vara det, en mycket märklig känsla… det känns som deja vu varje gång jag lär mig något nytt!

fast jag kommer mycket väl ihåg mitt kall och uppgift här i livet… ja även vi tjuvar har vår heder och mästare som ger oss uppgifter ibland

jag kommer också ihåg mina drömmar om att en dag grunda en stad för alla tjuvar, tiggare, gatubarn, rövare och andra på samhällets botten

som en ny Hawa ungefär… jag har varit där en gång, det minns jag, ett fantastiskt ställe!

och givetvis kommer det finnas plats för ett rejält bibliotek för vad vore en fest utan er magikers fyverkerier och konster?

men först måste vi hitta ett lämpligt ställe att grunda en stad på och för att göra det så behöver vi en bra båt

Taraq 1

The tale of the dock worker and the lazy hobos too good for a day's honest work

One day at the docks while unleading heavy crates for Andar bin Solmor's trading company, a dockworker overheard three bums that seemed out of their luck. "I'll offer them a job", he thought, and said that they could work with him for seven dinars a week. More than enough to cover a modest lifestyle, with food and stay at one of the local inns. "That's not enough for us!" they answered. "Fools", he thought, "who does not know the value of steady money." But he told them "If that's not enough, you might inquire with Mahnaz al-Qudra, she might need sa'luks such as yourself to guard her mine." "Sa'luks! We be not sa'luks!" they snarled. "We want to work as scribes, sorting papers!" "Well," the dockworker replied, "that's probably still going to be about the same pay as here" "Not enough!" they said. "Give us better work!" "What fools have Fate wrought", he thought.

The tale of three thieves and the innkeeper they robbed

Hanna bint Rist at "Fiskelinan" tavern had a rough night. It was tough sleeping even though she tried to cover her head with a pillow because she was hearing weird noises from her next door neigbor, Gufsha.

Early in the morning, a corsair and two sa'luks came to visit her little establishment. At first, they seemed helpful. They even helped her find her family heirloom necklace. Nothing valuable, just sentimental, but it meant a lot to her. They asked if she had any suspicions and of course her thoughts led straight to that weirdo, Gufsha.

All well and good. But. While she had left them to guard the tavern, they must have stolen the bottle of mom's lobster wine. Later they came back with Mahnaz, the owner of the silver mine down the coast, and tossed coin around and took her pillowcase and her bedsheet.

The tale of the city of bullies and the academic they harassed

Gufsha was a scholar. She kept to herself mostly. Why did everyone always suspect her? Why did people always came knocking on her door, haunting her?

Taraq 2–9

The Tale of the Last Askari

Eleven of us askari were sent to the silver mine. The dead walked there. Familiar faces to these askari. Faces that they hadn't seen in a long time.

And the dead were armed.
And the dead fought well.
And our lives were harmed.
And our brothers fell.

Two of our number fled. They just broke ranks and ran, after seeing their friends die to this frantic horror under the ground. The blades swung from bone arms that moved jittery and spastically, almost like a trick of the eye. The half-composed bodies who would take spear-wound after spear-wound and never blink. Eyes unmoving, lids unclosed.

When I was a child there was an old woman who would go to the souq two times per a tenday. We would all laugh at her funny way of walking, almost as if she was dancing with every step. She would smile at us. My father told me that she had been his teacher in her youth. But this was many years ago now and now I am a grown man.

Today I had to kill her thirteen times while she tore the last of my friends apart. Only I remained.

Afterwards, two men showed up. Mining operations officers, sent by the owner of the mine. They said they needed to cut the heads of my people. "Just a formality," said they. "So we can prove that we have killed these creatures," said they. "I'm hope you understand". They took stock of the fallen, friends and foes, and loaded them up like crates on a wagon of djinni wind.

The Tale of the Bravest Animal

Come gather round! This bottle contains a magic potion that will make you friend to all animals. Only fifty dinars! An elf came to me, they said they wanted to win the animal's test of bravery but had been defeated by the wolvenkind. I sold them a bottle of this very potion and then they returned with a crown branches on their head, with regency over wolf, beast and eagle. Friend to all beasts!

I asked them how they had won over the littlest sparrow, who, while trembling, is steadfast and true.

They told me:

Embracing Fate, you become embraced. Supple, breathing gently, you become reborn. Clearing your vision, you become clear. Nurturing your beloved, you become impartial. Opening your heart, you become accepted. Accepting the World, you embrace Fate. Bearing and nurturing, creating but not owning, giving without demanding, controlling without authority, this is love. We have no Fate but the Fate we are given.

To this, the sparrow replied "♫poo♫tee♫weet♫".

The Tale of the Clear Water

On a high cliff by the coast four miles from Safaq on a hot day there stands a well. The water is clear there. The water is cool there. The water has blood and venom there.

At the bottom of the well, fourteen dirhams glistened, the glints of lights like notes on a pungi flute. Charmed dwellers in the wall of white stone.

Now there is no glint. Now there is no joy.
Now there are two workers digging in the ground.
Trading calloused hands for coin and books.

One is burying their goblin-kin, their anchor in the Land of Fate, their hope and their future.
The other is burying his past. His forgotten everything and other half. He is burying his wish.

Tariq 9

The party now is

  • Umaji min-Hakiyah
  • Talara adb-Jamil
  • Na'im al-Qadib
  • Djut (absent)

The Tale of the Brine Hand

Call me the Brine Hand.

I lost my leg at sea and I lost my best friend there. They couldn't even give him a true burial. Sometimes I even wonder if he is really dead. I worship Hakiyah, the sea breeze, the god of truth. I want answers. I've put my weapons in the ground. I serve as imam in the small seaside town of Safaq. It'll do, this little town. It'll do. We have a sailor's graveyard here. Memorial stones, mostly. But sometimes sa'luks… no, sometimes heroes come with bones of the sea and we give them an honorable grave.

I look out over the waves at night. I listen to the waves crushing sounds. Sometimes they feel peaceful. Other times they feel suffocatingly restless.

The Tale of the Endless Night

Gufsha; I still think my name is beautiful. I remember my mother braiding my hair and saying my name. They say I'm Gross-Gufsha, Disgusting-Gufsha. But I know who I am. I'm just Gufsha.

They don't let me see the sun. My dawn is when the dwarves light their lanterns, shining on the silver lode. My day is the pick, heavy in my hands. My music is the sound of rocks breaking. My company is the whip lashing. My fashion is the manacles and chains. My evening is the dwarves leaving, taking their lantern lights. My night is a bed of stone.

There is no true time here. There is only the cycle of work, sleep, eat, work and sleep and eat. I am not here. There is only darkness and stone. As my hope dies, so does my true self and my true name. Gufsha, the child my mother loved… I can't let her into this mine. Gross-Gufsha, Disgusting-Gufsha, Necromancer-Gufsha… that is who holds the pick. That is who is trapped here.

The Tale of the Goddess' Touch

I am a soldier. An askari. I work for the good of the village of Safaq. On Hakiyah's day I go to the mosque for prayer. My sword and shield belong to the city but my heart belongs to my goddess.

Im'ran. I take the name Im'ran min-Hakiyah.

My goddess brings light through Umaji, one of the five novices studying under Velmar "the Brine Hand" to become an imam of my goddess. She provides me with what I need. Umaji's voice speaks loud and true. The night tries to crush me with falling rocks. I do not hesitate.

The sea breeze of dawn shines through me and the word of my goddess heals me. We have no Fate but the Fate we are given.

I do not know of gods and of godly things. My way is the way of sword and shield. My way is a simple way. Sharp and clean and true.

Tariq 9–10

The Tale of the Mad Cavern

The darkness was beautiful there. Shadows pooled like water. The cavern wasn't formed naturally. Someone had dug it but without rhyme or reason. My master's friend Djut tossed a couple of torches into the distance and around the flickering point of light faraway, the harsh crisp marks in the stone left shadows like soft caresses and feather downs. It was an awe-inspiring sight. Tufa, our genasi's parrot, flew hundreds of feet but couldn't reach a ceiling in this massive cavern.

The Tale of the Forgetful Dwarf

I usually move so silently in the night, and so tenderly I plunder the bags, with my expertise in dex checks. But for the first time in years, the mark woke up. At first I thought I was just unlucky, that he had woken by coincidence, rather than me making a mistake. But when I saw him I realized at once what I was dealing with. The geniekind have many frightful talents. Now I have learned that they may sleep without sleeping, and hear without hearing.

The Tale of the Recent Dead

There is a house up the coast, East of Safaq, and west of Mahnaz' Mine. A man went there. A faris, in armor, with shield and sword.

The dwellers in the dark slew him, and when his body was cold, dozens of eggs were laid in there and dozens of maggots made their home there.

A man with the blood of djinn disturbed their abode with a hand of wind. The maggots poured forth like milk through cloth.

Into a goblin, pure of heart, they started drilling.
The many maggots stung like thorns in briar.
The flamewind mage lit up the skin with fire,
and in their dying breath they took to killing.