"Nothing is so fortified that money cannot capture it.'
- Cicero

 "A problem you solve with money is not a problem:  it is an expense" 

            - Lieutenant-General Joseph Anderson 

After evading Ylfen patrols all over Bral, the heroes surreptitiously make their ways back to the docks undetected. They board the Ogre Ship, Boulder, and make their way to the Dark Market Asteroid, Yesyr. There, they recruit a rival Bugbear slave guild to assault the keep on Hunched Wald territory, and a massive battle ensues. The heroes and their ogre allies free the entire complement of slaves being held in the Keep, including Carmy Belhain, leaving the Bugbear Slave guild in control of their former rival's entire territory and all of their assets.

Leaving the Naval Yards, Goodboy is nowhere to be found. You started getting concerned when your inquiries could turn up no trace of the loyal caninetaur. When a gremlin with floppy ears caught your attention and beckoned you follow him into an alley, you went just to be able to throttle someone.

When you entered, Lzrplx, a gremlin, appeared on a balcony several feet above Shroktath’s reach to tell you he had a message for you from Goodboy – he imitates his voice perfectly…

• Apologies, y’all. Place started crawling with Ylfe. I threw some cloaks on some friends and managed to lure a few off. If you’re getting this message, it means Lzrplx managed to get you out from under the noses of any others.

• Lzrplx adds, “You are good to go! But be quick. Ylfe are only stupid for very short periods of time.”

The gremlin flips you an ACLU gold piece and says, “May the Auditors Balance May Accounts if I’m lying.”

Lzrplx isn't wrong. The Ylfen gauntlet is layered an sophisticated with hunters, stalkers and watchers both open and hidden.

You’d say it would be nice to be back on the deck of a ship in Wildspace, but you are on an Ogre vessel. Although it is not nearly as chaotic as flying with goblins, the unbelievable panoply of smells moves way past taste and sight and is something you think you can actually hear.

Never have you been more grateful to the work the Shannons put in keeping Gurunk clean. Finally, it all makes sense.  The pheromones that these creatures emit are bad enough; when they are rutting…

INDESCRIBABLE does not begin to describe it. The worst of it being the arousal it actually provokes:

• It's like diarrhea and rotting meat had a baby and dressed it up with burning rubber and stink weed.

• There's a can, and that can is filled with hides, hooves, offal, and the bits you don't want. It's been left in the summer sun for weeks until the can can move on its own. White lice-like shapes. Wriggling. There is a Shakespearean quality to the stench. Euphoric. Angelic.

• Before Khalid rolled in the army, his older brother took him to a dockside brothel on The Wine Dark Sea. Talulah was the lowest cost service lady in the facility. The smell is not unlike the armpit of Talulah after a day of eating garlic and rutting with a pig farmer at low tide... and it is strangely arousing.

On the plus side, the Boulder is entirely unharried, by Ylfe or pirates. Ogre ships have a reputation as being never worth the trouble for the gains that might be made by actively seeking to pillage them. Quite the contrary in fact. Merchants scatter and even the privateers give you a wide birth.

A few Ylven Wingblades painted with the colours of the Morningstar make a couple of flybys to survey the decks, but you are all hidden below when this occurs. They fired a ballista off the port bow after Captain Susandbag launched a trebuchet of shattered granite into the midst of their formation. It pissed them off, but it had the desired affect of cutting off their pursuit a bit sooner than they might have. They suddenly seemed to recall that there were other ships leaving Bral to harass.

By some grace, it only takes two days to arrive on Yesyr, rather than the usual three. With the Bralean navy busy with the Ylfe, the Market Master must be seeking extra business by making it easy for clients to get back and forth. No wonder Low Town has been  teeming with even more scum and villainy lately – and here you thought it was word of Lewis’s show at Skrik’s had gotten around.

The first thing you notice on the approach to Yesyr is the cloud of scavvers – the carrion crawlers of Wildspace. They feed on the flotsam and garbage produced by highly populated places. A few of them can be found around Bral, but the Corporatios fund the navy to deal with them, as they grow bold in great flights and become a nuisance to shipping.

The second thig is the long trail of Camp Followers. You’ve heard of these, though never seen them. Travelling rocks tend to attract great convoys of barges, broken ships, and floating platforms that could never last Iong in Wildspace on their own. Most of them don’t even have a Helm, let alone a pilot. Hangers-on that are pulled along in the wake of active markets without actually mooring. It’s a way to enjoy all of the delights of civilization (loosely defined) without having to pay docking fees. The Folk equivalent of scavvers, really.

Again, the Bralean navy can be thanked for keeping the Rock clear of these, but at Yesyr, it looks as the population of Camp Followers might rival that of the asteroid itself. There’s so damn many of them!

After docking, it is almost enough for you to thanks the ogres that their odours prepared you for disembarking. If you had harboured any doubts about not just brining the Inordinate Amount here, they are vanquished completely. You cannot imagine how long you might have had to quarantine the ship afterwards.

The air on Yesyr is stale and seems right on the edge of going sour and poisonous. No wonder there is a market here for Leshys; and no wonder the Leshys die off so quickly!

If Bral is the Dungeons & Dragons Internet, Yesyr is the Dark Web.

You’ve heard of wretched hives of scum and villainy? Yesyr is the prototype that everyone thought went too far.

Bral is a celebration of commerce nearly unhindered by restraint, Yesyr is where that qualifying adverb goes to die.

Fetid, seedy, unseemly and loathsome are just some of the adjectives that would likely grow uncomfortable by their association with the place.

Hunched Wald territory is easy enough to find. Your inquiries reveal the leader of the place is a Leucrotta called Jarl Goreknuckle. Near the centre of territory squat the ruins of some ancient keep built near a rocky outcrop, so it looks like it abuts a cliff. It’s nothing elaborate. Fallen walls and a watchtower surrounded by a labyrinthine market for every vile and disturbing thing you could imagine, and that’s just the kebab stalls.

You see small packs of gnolls leading chained groups of slaves of all manner of moreaufolk and other races towards the keep. You gather from the general movement that the slave market is near there.

You also pass groups of potential buyers. Mainly bugbears, orcs, moreaufolk and dwarves. But you’ve also seen more exotic creatures as well.

The fleshpit is inside of the ruined keep. The old stables one one side have been transformed into crowded slave pens. They are on the same side of the keep as the cliff face.

[Placeholder: 3 photos, Hunched Wald tuf]

This freakish beast has the head of a badger, the hooves of a stag, and a wide mouth with sharp ridges of bone instead of teeth. It’s red rheumy eyes glisten with a wild and malevolent intelligence. A frothing mucous drips from its open mouth, bubbling with its heaving breath.

To your great surprise, the badger stag, which is known as a Leucrotta, speaks inside your head – the words appear all at once, while the beast itself cackles like a hyena and launches its attack: “These are the creatures my Bouda warned me about? These are the warriors from Bral that set everyone’s hunch bristling?” it cackles derisively, “Two skittering sewer dwellers, a bastard boy and (sniffs the air) an emotionally damaged human? We will sell the last two and eat the first two, though they will require extra sauce. The ogres they’ve brought should at least allow us to break even for all the damage they’ve caused.” (MAKE A WILL SAVE)

A small Ibixian boy wearing a burlap sack is holding is holding the hand of an even smaller kid, who is in turn holding a headless doll, losing straw. He looks up at you with his hourglass eyes. His shoulders relax noticeably, and  although he whispers you can hear his words deep in your hearts – “I knew you’d come.” (Carmy Belhain)

The smaller Ibixian is Katsika, his cousin. His other cousin, Ziege is at the back of a cell strewn with straw and filth. Both his feet are badly infected and he cannot walk. He is breathing heavily and is chained to the dessicated body of an equally young dog person – something reminiscent of a spaniel, that reminds you of Goodboy.

So. Carmy Fucking Bellingham. Goatboy. A chance encounter with the remains of another chance encounter. We rescued him. Finally.

I’d felt bad, but it always seemed like there was something else that needed doing before we could go after poor Carmy. I lightly held the necklace that was all I had left of Luckums and thought of her, thought of how much this - us finally going after Carmy as she’d promised - would make her happy, and I felt happy too. Just the crying kind of happy. We finally had enough salted away that we could take a swing at rescuing Carmy. Turns out, we rescued a whole lot more, and at some cost too.

The Y’lfen battlecruiser Morning Glory was watching the Amount like a hungry orphan watches a gujamellon stand at the end of market, so we weren’t getting out on our own ship. We’d come up with a plan though - get away instead on the Boulder, the ship of our friendly neighbourhood ogres. We were bottomside on the Rock of Brahl, and needed to get topside - and without any of the swarms of Y’lfe, or Y’lfe sympathizers finding us, either. Through a mix of barter, brains, and brawn we managed to worm our way up through the tunnels with only one close call in the mix. Khalid brought us home by a mix of trickery and his soldiering knowledge, getting the Y’lfen guards at the edge of the docks chasing down some fake threat, and then swiftly following up behind them, almost like an Y’lfen escort to the Boulder. Once on board, we managed to sneak Basile back over to the Amount (it’s seriously like that guy disappears. It’s creepy.) with our distraction plan. The Amount made as if to leave, attracting the attention of the Y’lfe, and in that moment the Boulder cast off and headed for Yesyr Rock, home to the Hunched Wald slaver that had taken Carmy. Only, we had failed to account for how plans change when in the hands of goblins. The Amount promptly lost its bearings, collided with another ship, got tangled and twisted around, drifted into another ship…. It sure created a distraction though. An expensive one. Oh well, that’s a problem for later.

I can truly say I’ve never experienced anything like life aboard an Ogre ship. The smell of one ogre, cleaned and kept as the Shannons used to do (well! I now realize) with Garunk, is an assault on the senses and the will. I remember frequently fighting back the desire to puke and/or faint when caught downwind of Garunk. One ogre. Cleaned thoroughly. Now here we were stuck on board a ship with tight quarters, and a crew full of ogres that gloried in their stench. It was brutal. Unyielding. And oddly enticing? Speaking of puke, I kind of want to writing that last, but it’s the truth. When an ogre is rutting they put out an odour something powerful, and it pulls you in despite yourself. I found myself making goo-goo eyes at their Captain, Barbarberella, more times than once. More terrifying still, she flirted back. Hieronius’ holy shaft, that was a helluva mix of feelings.

We arrived at Yesyr with a plan. There were other slavers on the rock, and Basile thought we should go with the old - the enemy of my enemy plan. We managed to convince the Bugbear slavers (the rivals) that the gnoll slavers (our target) could be removed, giving them a bigger slice of the pie. To sweeten that meal a bit more, we met with the Bugbears and made it clear that we were a formidable ally, and that the gnolls were indeed to be hated and feared. Oh, and Khalid paid them a mess of gold.

We’d thought about trying to be clever and sneaky and tactical, but it all ended up sliding into a big bloody brawl like normal with us. The buggies, our ogres, and we four approached the Hunched Wald fortress looking to stir up trouble and it was actually pretty hard to get the party started. But once it was on, it was on. It was a close run thing, that battle. Some memorable moments? The ogres nearly broke and ran as their sorcerer, Grrzld Bloodblistern, entered the fray, but I managed to rally them by raining down a vicious assault on him, knocking him to his knees, and showing the ogres that he was not to be feared but felled. Hazel, holding in there against an attack by greater numbers and giving us a chance to come to his aid. Khalid, firing that weird weapon of his with skill and bravery, finishing off the sorcerer… but paying for his focus as a gnoll warrior landed a lucky shot removing his (left, at least) hand at the wrist as I only later realized.

The end point came, but it nearly was a very different end. Basile tipped us off to the location of the psionic leader of the Hunched Wald slavers, a gross looking Leucrota named Jari Gorknuckle near the battle lines. I closed with him as quick as I could, but I nearly bit off more than I could chew. As Jari chomped and clawed at me, and I weaved in and out with my spear, I could feel something in his spittle draining my will to fight, to resist. He kept probing my mind, trying to gain a grasp, and then he really did grab hold. I could still sense my body and its sensations, but it’s almost like I was watching it. I felt my body boil with rage, a rage directed against my friends. My great fear had finally come to pass.

And then, it didn’t. In an instant, I felt the presence of Basile - my pack leader - in my mind. I felt the great pain of Basile, taking on my rage, taking it away. And then I saw Basile collapse in a heap to my right, and I was back to myself. Thank the gods for Basile, and his quick wits and willingness to sacrifice himself. I hate to imagine what I might have done to my friends. I dearly hoped Basile was alright.

Calling upon the lifeforce within me, I turned on Jari with a vengeance, my spear glowing with power, and I finished him off. The day was ours. Hazel rushed to Basile’s side. Sure that Basile was taken care of, and worried about the fate of the prisoners with the Bugbear slavers loose and bloodlusty, Khalid and I rushed to the back of the fortress and its slave pens. Just like Basile’s boys back on Brahl had told us, there was a whole heap of warrenfolk mixed in among the prisoners, along with Carmy and what was left of his family. There were dozens of them, getting loose from their cages, swarming around us. I tried to whip the slaves into some sort of order, but they weren’t moved in the least and I stood there all dumb and helpless. Khalid - bless him - managed to organize their escape from the fortress - and away from the buggies - and onto the Boulder. As the adrenaline began to subside, I caught sight of Khalid. Quick moments, but with warmth and command, moving from group to group with small words and acts of kindness. And then it hit me. So caught up in the battle and the moment, so confidently had Khalid carried on, I’d missed it. The bloody, leaking stump of his left hand. The colour sickeningly drained from his face. I followed him as he ducked behind a corner of the ship, and caught him just as he collapsed.

[As written by Basile based on dictation from the Rhaakhec]

Selunday Menteweek Korda - Day 204

The Y’lfe battlecruiser Morning Glory began its posturing and battle drills as we prepared to go after the slave boy Carmy Bellingham.  We were warned that our window of escape Brahl was narrow so we made all haste through the tunnels to the ogre ship Boulder.  We made our way through the very center of that rock and had a number of dramatic successes avoiding the patrols.  We also had some painful missteps in the tunnels but at the end, using the chaos of the port, we made it to the ogre ship.  Basile got a message to the Inordinate Amount and told them to take off as a distraction for our escape.  It was a catastrophe; what an optimist could call a happy accident.  The Y’lfe were completely distracted by the Inordinate Amount’s crazy flight profile and destructive crash back into the port.  I knew that would be expensive.  We flew out past the embargo with no problems.

Unfortunately, we were sickened by the stench in that two-day journey.  Ogres seem to revel and even encourage in the raw odours of their bodies to rut and carouse.  The smell was as present as the midday heat of Eoport in summer:  heavy and surrounding.  It smelled like the armpit of Tulada from that port’s worst brothel and at low tide…and it was oddly arousing.

Freeday Menteweek Korda - Day 206

The asteroid Yesyr was a horrible result of commerce gone wild.  It was vile villainy enthroned by raw gold.  We found the gnoll slaver stronghold and convinced the neighbouring bugbear faction to support our attack.  I led the bugbears in towards the stronghold and we taunted the gnolls with their cowardice.  Shroktath led the ogres in while Basile tried to sneak into keep.  Once we were at the perimeter, the chaos started and the attack began.  It was my kind of skirmish; hordes against hordes easily encouraged by provocative yelling.  I even pistol whipped one of those dogs.  I was happily blasting away at the gnolls when one of them bit off three of my fingers from my left hand.  The searing heat of my gun Zahrat-Alkarma staunched the bleeding just as Drott had taught me just long enough to blast the sorcerer into ash.  Dealing with that more serious foe unfortunately distracted me from the now emboldened gnoll who took off my whole hand.  I saw Shroktath deliver an incredible flurry of blows on the leucotta Goreknucke as I stumbled backwards.  I could barely breathe but focused on the gnoll attacking Hazel.  With my last bullet I knocked him over and Hazel’s spell finished it off.  My comrades safe, I drew Alshida and sunk the axe blade into that final gnoll’s head and it fell to the ground.   

[Placeholder: image, armoured gnoll slavers in blazing village]

We held the bugbears back to stop them re-enslaving these victims.  Their competition was decimated, the stronghold and all its wealth in their hands;  they had done well enough for this day.  I collected my left hand, placed it in my pouch and then wrapped my left arm with my turban as we went into the keep to rescue those slaves.  We found Carmy, a warren of small folk and the enslaved leshys.  Taking what booty we could from the battlefield, we left the rest to the bugbears as we fled back to the Boulder.  We had made powerful enemies that day and at great cost.  We put the fate of Brahl and the circlet at great risk all for a handful of nameless slaves: the weakest of the weak.  As Shroktath put me into a borrowed and filthy bunk, numb from alcohol and weak as a baby, I only wondered briefly about how I would next reload my gun in battle.  That thought was pushed away by a spark of pride that we had stood up to aid those that none other had dared to save.

[Placeholder: image, gunslinger with bloody hand]

Twas the night before Lifeday,

when all through the ship

Not a crewmate was stirring, not even a Whip

Provisions were flung bout the deck with no care

Heedless of anything - who, what or where

The goblins were splayed all through the Amount

Excesses paid in measure past count

And Shroktath in armour, and

Khalid with gun

Not to be seen, adding to the fun

When onto the prow there rang such a clatter

Coalman stirred from his sleep to see to the matter

So up to the deck, he arrived in a hurry

His head still pounding, his vision so blurry

The Rock now still, and lanterns burned low

Giving the scene a warm cozy glow

Coalman rubbing his eyes, was startled to see

Eight reindeer, a sleigh, and then there was he

Jolly and a smile as big as a house

Coalman knew in a moment that it must be Klaus

More rapid than ‘dashers, he jumped from his sleigh

With a wink and a chuckle, he quick made his way

To the hold of the ship, where no crew was stirring

And from his great sack, he drew forth unerring

Presents all wrapped and addressed with great care

For all of the crew, though none were aware

In a great reddish blur the stocking were hung

For each goblin on board, and he’d also brung

Great gifts for the “bosses” - he placed these down too

Then turned and said, “it’s one heck of a crew

With just the right mix of nice and naughty

I leave each a gift, with you the trustee.”

As Coalman looked on, and Klaus sped away

He thought to himself, “What the darned hey?!?”

But through Coalman's efforts, as Klaus had sworn

A grand Lifeday was had by all the next ‘morn.