The Sewers of Old New York: Gaming summary for 5/23/04

As I wrote the recap for this week's session, I realized that several names were tossed about, and I didn't manage to remember any of them clearly. At the time, I figured that getting people's names wrong was in character for Fitz, but it does make the recapping harder. If I got anything wrong, let me know, and I'll edit accordingly.

Editor's comments in bold

The session opened with the party descending into a sewer. The party then paused for several minutes while they attempted to figure out what they were doing and why. The best they could come up with was that they were searching for the Fish Folk, in the belief that it’s better than looking for ichor-oozing assassins.

The party acquired a conveniently lit torch near the entrance, and proceeded down the corridor, which is substantially nicer and better lit than its mundane counterpart. They eventually came to a T-junction, where an underground river blocked their path. With no obvious way to cross the river, they proceeded upstream. Eventually, they came to a bridge occupied by three goblins in Zoot suits. The goblins attacked immediately, and Fitz’s katana proved worthless, just as Obediah predicted. Thanks to a skillful combination of martial arts, Obediah’s mop-fu, and some mundane shticks, the goblins quickly ended up in the drink, where they were presumably devoured by a large and unpleasant thing dwelling within.

The party didn’t have much time to celebrate their success, though, because they soon heard an ominous THUMP-clunk, THUMP-clunk sound, getting closer. Our Heroes valiantly hid in alcoves until the source of the noise arrived, a ten-foot tall troll in an old-style police uniform. The party decided that he was trustworthy, and engaged him in conversation. The troll revealed that his name was Officer McDougal (I think that’s what it was), and asked the party their names, which stumped Obediah for several minutes. He wasn’t thrilled to learn about goblins in his territory, but there wasn’t any evidence remaining, so he decided to let it slide for now. The officer seemed quite smitten with Tamsin, but she only wanted to know where to find the Fish Folk. Turns out they’re properly called Ichthyos, and you can normally find them down at the docks.

The party made their way to the docks, and encountered along the way a stranger beset by two generic thugs. While the guys fought the thugs, Tamsin engaged the stranger in conversation. He had some Arabic-sounding name I didn’t catch, and the party quickly agreed to call him “Bobby.” The party agreed to call him Bobby because that was his name: Bobby M. Why Brian was under the impression it was something Arabic-sounding, I cannot say. Although Bobby didn’t help with the fighting, he did regale Tamsin with tales of his abilities — he figures the thugs were sent by the Caliph of Oda-Li (or something like that) in retaliation for Bobby stealing half of the Caliph’s harem (the female half, of course). After the thugs were dispatched, Bobby agreed to accompany the party to the docks. Bobby M. also told the party that the ichor-y assassins sounded like they were either cultists of Biri-Saarr the Incan Squid-Monkey god, or perhaps goblin sendings, and that if they were cultists they weren't all that tough as cultists go, although he had never personally fought more than a dozen at one time.

Upon their arrival, Tamsin asked a few questions, and learned that the best place to find Ichthyos is in Greek-town (well, duh). Fortunately for all involved, Greek-town is close by, and Tamsin speaks ancient Greek. Unfortunately, even though there were plenty of Ichthyos around to talk to, Tamsin didn’t have the slightest idea where to start. Even more unfortunately, Tamsin and Fitz had to obey Obediah’s earlier instruction not to eat anything in the faerie realm, even though Fitz was in the mood for souvlaki. Obediah had no such restrictions, and quickly started swilling ouzo, stopping long enough to cast a spell on Tamsin so that she would be able to recognize the Ichthyos who she had previously met in Ms. Savage’s office.

Since the party was already at the bar, Tamsin engaged the bartender in conversation, asking who she would talk to if she wanted to reach Veronica Savage. The bartender recommended Ms. Hiss, who is located a few doors up the street, under the sign of the all-seeing eye. After tipping handily and obtaining a bottle of retsina as a gift for Ms. Hiss, the party set out to find her.

At this point we broke, with the GM noting that we still haven’t destroyed the universe, or even blown anything up.

4 thoughts on “The Sewers of Old New York: Gaming summary for 5/23/04

  1. The GM noted the lack of destruction with disappointment, concern, or cautious optimism? If Josh doesn't WANT you to blow things up, he should probably not remind you that you've been delinquent in that respect.

  2. They were whining that they hadn't really accomplished much, so I pointed out that at least they hadn't destroyed the world.

  3. OH!!! His name really was Bobby? I didn't catch it the first time, and the mention of the caliph made me think “Arabic.” I assumed that his name was Abu-bi or something similar, and we were all calling him Bobby for convenience. Well, that'll teach me not to take notes.

    I didn't bother mentioning the Incan Squid-Monkey god cult because I assumed that was just Bobby blowing smoke. Although I did enjoy the dialog between Fitz and Bobby (on the virtues of fighting a dozens cultists with a spoon, as opposed to, say, an oyster fork), I didn't consider it important in the grand scheme.

    As for blowing things up, I'd like to think that we haven't really gotten things rolling yet. I would also like to think that at least Fitz (a telecom expert with delusions of Jet Li) and Tamsin (a reference librarian), both with no powers to speak of, wouldn't be capable of destroying the universe. Then again, one could probably have said the same of Cal of the Clockstoppers.

  4. Ah, yes, the oyster fork that Bobby M. employed against the Giant Man-Eating Singing Oysters of Kilimanjaro…few are the men who have heard their plaintive Wimoweh and lived to tell the tale.

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