(This premise is borrowed from FrankTrollman, seeing as the guy's a repository of good ideas and campaign seeds. I am also using his and K's Tomes series to supplement the game. I like his work, so sue me.)
Premise (borrowed from a thread on the Gaming Den in
this thread under the Sinking Ship heading. Alright, I pretty much stole it, but it was such a good premise that I couldn't
not use it.):
So, the world's overlap a bit, and in the space between lies the island of Flotsam. It's a mish-mash of bits of old ships, wood and stone that has somehow made their way to the ocean in between the cosmos. The city itself is home to a wide variety of pleasant and unpleasant people, hailing from as far around the multiverse as you could possibly think. There are elementals from the Energy planes, outsiders from the myriad number of celestial and lower planes, even the numerous Prime planes; Ebberon, Faerun, Rokugan, Greyhawk; you name it. There are even the alien aberrations from the planes not thought connected to the "wheel," such as the abyssal denizens of Earth's oceans and the Old Gods of the universe.
The city is divided into two general sections, with each one then being split into 5 Wards. Topside, which is where everyone who needs air to breathe lives, is broken up into the North, East Wake, West Wake, Center and Wakeside Wards. The Underside, home to such folk as Sahaugin, constructs, elementals and such, is divided into the Breakside, East Break, West Break, Deep and South Wards. Each Ward is likened to whatever plane most of it's ship-buildings hails from, such as the North Ward being made mostly of the sunken galleons and warships of the seas in Greyhawk. The cultural make up varies wildly, however, mixing such incompatible people as Solars and Pit Fiends in a generally tolerable manner. Most denizens have gotten used to new things coming in every day, so they don't cling to the beefs most species have with one another. The city has its share of problems, however, as recently some disasters have plagued the city's Wards in great sweeps of bad luck. First and foremost, something caused the Wakeside tower to fall into the waters below, leaving many people without the watchful eye of the Ward Patron over their businesses or the Brig, Flotsam's prison. Many believe it to the be the great quakes that have wracked the Wakeside and South Wards, but there are rumors that a fair share of people, who were at the site when the tower fell, heard a rythmic chanting and booming noises coming from below the shaky foundation. Some suspect it was due to the South Ward's dislike of the Wakeside populous, but the South Ward officials have denied any involvement and vehemently protest their peoples' innocence in the matter. Whatever the case, after the tower fell in, things took a turn for the worse. While the North Ward's tower didn't fall, it might as well have. The Matron who runs the North Ward has gone missing, along with her retainers and assistants, last being seen the day before the Wakeside tower disaster. Suspicion is high, and tensions are running thick in the city. At least, they should be.
Who knows? The night is young (at all times. Flotsam never experiences what you'd call "daylight," seeing as the sky above is an expansive view of a starlit cosmos. Lots of bright colors, big bands of ether and whatnot, but nothing so annoying as a Sun.) There's doors to every place known by any creature if you've got the right key, and mystery lies behind every corner. Best be on your guard, or ye'll be walking the many planks that pass for edge-side walks.
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Characters:
Ise: 6th level Human Samurai (Crane Clan, Rokugan [Tomes Samurai])
Marius: 5th level Jester/1st level Human Fighter (Thillonrian [Probably Stonehold], Greyhawk, [Tomes Jester/Fighter])
"Cole, be a pal and pour me a cup of the '45 West vineyard from there up on the wall."
Cole, the enigmatic and, most importantly,
dead tender for the Gossiping Banshee hotel/tavern, looks up and gives the Jester a stern glance. His bone fingers scraping against the glass of the bottle, Cole wrenches the wine from its hole in the wall. Uncorking the dusty container, sets down a clean glass, and pours until the deep red liquid comes even with the lip of the cup. Marius, impressed with Cole's impeccable serving capabilities, takes the glass and sips the sweet wine quietly. A table away from the bar, within earshot, sits a large man with strikingly exotic features. A Djinn from any number of planes, the hulk of mysticism and grace sits idly while chatting with a human who sat next to him. Dressed in a gleaming regalia of Mithril plates, Ise the Swallow Tail asks his Genie friend, "what's up with all those quakes? Has anything like this happened in the city before?"
The Djinn, always happy to oblige the younger races, replies with a simple gesture and shrug. He quaffs a large gulp from his barrel of drink, and smiles at the rest of the bar.
Ise, bored with this reaction, saunters over to the bar and drops a few Rokugan coins on the counter. Cole eyes the gold, and drops the coins into his gullet, to the open coinpurse in his equally open stomach.
At the far end of the bar, two human men sit discussing the recent news in earnest. They wonder to themselves if it was one of the needlessly powerful mages or sorcerers from somewhere like Faerun or Greyhawk. The Kyton a table over (yes, there's a Kyton here.) simply drinks his beverage in solitude, scoffing at such inane babble.
Cole rushes under the bar in a fit, gesturing for those close to the bar to do the same. Perplexed, they oblige. The tables shake, the chandeliers sway and the dozens of cups and glasses Cole so neatly stacked on the counter tops and shelves crash to the floor. The bar starts to heave, angling awkwardly like a sinking ship. The humans' drinks fall from their table and stop, their fall broken by the Kyton's face. As the quake subsides, the Kyton starts to throw a fit, gesturing wildly and yelling at the two humans in some Abyssal tongue. Frustrated with having no effect with his misunderstood shouts, the Kyton drops his chains and makes short work of the insolent humans. The Djinn, obviously upset by this fight, positions himself to stop the Kyton. However, as soon as he is about to punch the devil, he clutches his stomach and mutters a curse. With a bang, he vanishes. Taken to the Brig, some would think. They often place enchantments on previous offenders to keep them in line. With no clear threat, the Kyton moves to the bar, and begins to browbeat Cole into relinquishing the coins in his stomach.
Ise, happy to show off his prowess with a blade, cuts a clean swipe along the Kyton's flank. Although the blade went deep; a blow that would've killed a steer; the wound drew no blood. The fight comes in to full swing, with Ise, Marius and the Kyton trading blows, until a furious Ise drops the sadist punk with a kiai! The skeleton guards, who were previously enjoying their break, enter the bar and drag the Kyton out to toss him off the side of the rails to the fathomless depths below. Ise and Marius follow, just to make sure.
With nothing really to do, the Jester and Samurai decide to do a little digging into these "quakes," and try to get Wakeside.
A slaad, obviously acting with the good of the rest of Flotsam in mind, is holding the doorway hostage. (The doorway is one of many on Flotsam. When you build a city out of old ships and bits of wood, you sometimes need to leave out a few passages. The doorway leads to a dimensional junction that also connects to the Wakeside.)
He preaches a quick sentence about how the Wakeside should be left to fall into the ocean, and that no one should be allowed entry for their own good, before tossing the Gate keys into the junction to seal the door behind himself. A clamor of people rush inward to the wood-laid gap in space, reaching for the Gate keys. The slaad, upset at people's inability to listen to him, croaks in a stunningly loud fashion, prompting Ise to shut him up with his blade. Marius leaps inward to the junction, and pelts the slaad with a
Color Spray. The slaad, taken aback by this undeniably hostile reaction his behavior is getting, leaps into the junction as well, trying to get to the keys. Ise is too quick for him, grabbing the keys and leaping out the door. Marius soon follows, with a few of the stunned stragglers being dragged behind him. Ise slams the door in the slaad's face, leaving him with a few hours to calm down or head Wakeside.
Marius and Ise decide they should talk things over with the Matron, having not heard the news. When they reach the North Ward Watchtower, they are clued in to the breaks. They enter the watchtower, hoping to find some clues as to the Matron's whereabouts, having a bit of luck with a recent ledger entry and a page of doodles that have been
Secret Paged. They get the pages to reveal themselves, and learn that she is apparently crazy or very paranoid about people seeing what she writes. They examine the scrying pools situated around her panoramic office of sorts, spying into some locales as the Plane of Fire and Ash, the Ebberon city of Sharn, and some others not worth mentioning.
They venture out, taking a few things from the office with them; such as an
Everburning torch, and the Matron's notes and ledgers. The two travel Wakeside again, noticing the dimensional door ajar and the slaad lying dead in the archway. Not paying the body a second glance they enter into the Wakeside Gate. They are affronted by the numerous shops and shopkeeps who are all trying so very hard to sell them things they don't need. One man, Mark, deals in oddities and people. He fills them in on the way Wakeside's Patron ran things, being careful to note how lazy the man was.
They visit another store owned by a Water Elemental by the name of Seafoam, who deals in aquatic apparatuses. After trying futilely to understand the Elemental's Aquan tongue, they purchase some
amulets of waterbreathing from him for a steal, and head Underside. They question both the South Ward and Breakside Patrons, who either don't want to talk, or don't speak at all.
Up to Topside they go, leaving the day's actions to settle themselves.
