The Crack Rack 5
The Crack Rack 5, a party of adventurers based out of Lower Lalt, Behemith , consists Vel Davenport, Eri Frostfang, Brogg 'Facewrecker,' Tem, and E-4. The group first met in the stands of Balsalm Arena , after which their lives took a dark turn when they were abducted by the nightmare cult of Gogia and imprisoned in the oppressive ABC Full Liek Orphanage . For a week, they relived the same futile nightmare of escape attempts before finally breaking free with a man named Berezhki ’s help. However, they soon discovered they had been afflicted with tincture , a condition inflicted by Gogia that slowly drives its victims insane with fear.
After escaping, they took down the Rock Snakes, a minor gang Tem had antagonized, and claimed their hideout, a horribly rundown tavern called The Crack Rack. Having no better options, they resolved to uncover a cure for their affliction while dealing with whatever other problems came their way.
The Fight Pits: 2nd of Heril, 915 RF
It's a hot summer day in Behemith, not unlike it usually is; the sun bright enough even to illuminate relatively deep into the chasms. The air is pretty humid, but occasionally alleviated by the cool ocean mist carried by the wind. It's about mid-afternoon, so the streets are pretty busy with people leaving their respective jobs, and heading home or to one of the many bazillion pubs. The crowds are actually quite a welcome sight, as just a few weeks ago, only a few dared to step out of the safety of their homes. Since then, it's settled down a bit, though many still remain very wary. But shops have reopened, businesses, for the most part, resume, and even festivities have begun to start back up. One of which, you all are heading to, for one reason or another right now. The Fight Pits, a time-honored tradition, is being hosted Balsam Arena, with a few new challengers, but still many old.
Warforged of Babblehand
The wind carries a cool mist over a small home in the Babblehand district overlooking the Vathyc Sea. An old gnome with a with an oil-stained brown apron, long white beard, bald head, and those weird glasses with the lenses that extend like 5 cm outward, stands hunched over a wooden work desk carving minuscule symbols into a small clay square. Around him, the room is completely cluttered with large and small wooden planks, sheets of metal, shelves full of gadgets, and containers filled with screws, bolts, and otherwise. The gnome pushes his glasses up onto his head, and begins attempting to fit the clay square into a small metal housing. Even with his small nimble hands, he fumbles with the tiny pieces for a bit, squinting his eyes, until he finally gives up.
Rig calls out without looking up, “Ermmm…, E-4?? Could you come give me a hand real quick?”
An automaton clad in a green cloak enters, ducking its head to fit inside the room
“Yes, would you be so kind as to help me with the inlay?”
“Certainly,” E-4 replies, only to find the clay is not so easily manipulated. Managing to eventually fit the inlay, a tiny crack becomes visible.
Rig looks, “Oh. No matter. Actually, if you don’t mind, would you mind helping me with one more favor lad? Tem headed over to those fight pits, a few moments ago, and well, we both know that boy has a penchant for getting into trouble…would you mind heading over there an accompanying him?”
The Fos Trì Slayer
Meanwhile, in the north western most chasm of Behemith, known Fos Trì, the city continues to bustle. About 100 meters down, resides a natural shelf which wraps around the chasm wall as far as the eye can, upon which rests a multitude of slightly-above ramshackle dwellings. Out of one such dwelling, a duplex with its bottom floor actually carved out of the stone chasm wall itself, and a crude but sturdy wooden second floor built atop, exits a young human man with dark hair and a number of scars up his forearms.
“Oh, excuse me, Mr. Vel, one moment, if you wouldn’t mind!” An elderly human woman hobbles out of the apartment on the lower floor. She’s got a kind smile, white hair tied into a top bun, and is wearing a long white old-lady gown, with a shaw, which looks like she quilted herself, that has a depiction of a four-pointed star sewn into it, the symbol of the goddess Selune, the Moonmaiden. She walks up to Vel with what looks to be a pastry wrapped in brown paper.
“I just baked a fresh batch of ginger scones, and you ought not to skip breakfast, so why don’t you take this with you.”
Vel replies, “Thank you Ellen, I appreciate it.”
“Umm… if you don’t mind me inquiring, I’ve heard a couple of your clients visiting…; you help people, correct? Like a private eye?”
Vel pause for a moment. “Yeah. Pretty much like a private eye.”
“My grandson, Nuno, he’s a good boy at heart, but I’m afraid over the years he’s fell in with the wrong crowd. Anyway, he told me he was going over to the arena to ‘shake down some punk’. I don’t want anyone to get hurt, or Nuno to get in trouble with the guards again…. I was wondering if I may be able to hire your services, I can pay you of course”
She pulls out like 20 silver.
“If you require more, I can certainly do so… in a few days”
Ellen doesn’t normally get any visitors that Vel knows of, so it easy to remember anyone who does show up. He’s not there often, but from the few times he’s seen or overheard him, he immediately knew he was a prick scumbag. Goth-looking scrawny individual who always refers to himself in the third person, not by Nuno, but something much stupider name that Vel can’t quite recall. What does stick in his memory is a time you saw him, exiting the building in an angry huff holding several silver antiques.
Vel raises a hand, “No need Ellen, I’m heading up the surface anyway, I’ll go see what I can do.”
Balsalm Arena
As the hour of the show draws near, Vel and E-4 make their way through the city to Balsam Square. Slightly above modest cobblestone and wood lined houses and apartments line the streets. Other Behemith citizens pass by conversating, gossiping, peddling various wares. Balsam stadium inevitably comes into view, surrounded by the rather expansive park and garden, which currently has several stalls and stands set up, specifically for the event.
E-4 enters into a packed arena, down below, a fight having already started. He scans the rowdy crowd, People are cheering, standing up out of their seats, jumping about; but, no Tem in sight.
At the same time, Vel makes his way up to one of the nearby rows at the top where he thinks he saw a few open seats. With no sight of any overly-pierced punks wearing all black, Vel squeezes past a fat guy screaming with a mouth full of mutton, and a sees a seat open next to a young white dragonborn girl.
The Protector
Eri barely notices Vel sit down next to her, kind of half looking at the fight, half scanning the crowd. She's more focused on the flier in her hands, specifically at the name “Lileth Steelhammer, the protector”, than him or the current fight. She's been waiting patiently for quite a bit now, and half-turns to hear Leeland, a young halfling with brown parted hair and an attempt of a mustache, pipe up behind her, “Did we miss her, maybe? I don’t actually know what she looks like. Do you think she’ll want to talk to us later? I mean… how does my mustache look?”
Eri replies reassuringly, "Yeah, looks great! If Lileth is willing to join us, then all we need is one more to take the walk. We’ll do it for Nadeen and Khagrim"
Leeland looks down hesitantly, “Yeah about that… I was having second thoughts… about going_”
Before he can finish, a resounding crack echoes forth as one of the humans in the pit maces the other in the face, blood and teeth scattering everywhere as he falls to the ground. Several people run onto into pit. One, a male halfling with a poofy purple and gold shirt, grabs the arm of the stout black-haired mustachioed human in chain mail, and raises it “And the winner is…. Down and Dirty Rufus!”. Two others in brown tunics run over to the downed man healing him to consciousness with a dull glow coming from their hands.
As the two are ushered off, the halfling touches his hand to his throat and announces, “For our next challengers, we have a battle for the gods. Starting on the left we have the Horned Hierophant, Ballarat Ironhide!...”
A 6ft hulking minotaur in steel plate armor walks out standing tall, he raises both arms in the air, one fist clasping a long, spiked mace, and the other a large silver shield depicting a golden scale atop a Warhammer, the symbol of the Just God, Tyr. The crowd erupts into cheers.
“And from the right side, your protector and mine, Lileth Steelhammer!”
And even more cheers ring out, as a fully armored, dwarven individual steps out, a blue hieroglyphic-like eye on the back of each gauntlet, one of which is slinging a detailed but worn Warhammer over the shoulder, and a full helm obscuring their face, excluding a singular long blonde braid protruding from the back.
No sooner do you hear the words “Fight!” than you hear weapons clank. Aggressive blows, back and forth, some parried, some shielded, some denting the armor in badly. Lileth swings with both hands right at Ballaraat’s head, but he ducks surprisingly low, scooping her over his left shoulder and throwing her behind him onto her back. He brings his mace down for two heavy strikes, but Lilith rolls out of the way of both. In that split second his mace contacts the ground, Lileth hops to her feet, and uppercuts Ballaraat, right to the jaw, knocking him clean out.
The crowd explodes, as the crew runs out again. The halfling holds up Lileth’s hand: “Lileth Steelhammer, the protector!” More cheers, as Lilith removes her helmet revealing a tough and even kind of smug dwarven woman with blonde hair and a stereotypical scar over one eye. She waves at the crowd, and sits down at one of the VIP seats on the ground level outer edge of the pit.
The Brutal Brawler
The announcer continues, “Alright ladies and gentlemen, after the intermission we will be switching into or unarmed combat fights. But, what do you say we start it out right, with one fan favorite before the break?”
The crowd cheers.
“Well then let’s bring out our first fighter from the left, the magnificent mangler, the brawny beast slayer, our golden hero: Korgin Earthglade!”
A man with flowing golden hair struts out raising two muscular arms to the sky. He dons a sleeveless blue and white tunic, with white baggy pants, and a brown cape, with has a weaving blue intricate pattern across it, as he smiles blowing kisses to the crowd. You all hear a few younger girls nearby squeal, through the cheers and applause.
Then you start hearing a chant ramp up from significant portion of the audience around the stadium, “Face-wreck, Face-wreck, Face-wreck …”
“From the right side, the man you know and hate, the brutal brawler, the savage savant, the scourge of Gruumsh himself, FACE-WREAKER!!”
The crowd absolutely erupts into a cacophony of boos and swears and cheers, as a towering black-bearded half-orc sporting a t-shirt with his own face on it, steps out into the pit. Walking slowly to the center, Brogg pauses only for a moment to look about at the crowd and sniff the air around him. Then, seemingly pulling a microphone out of thin air, he simply states "this crowd smells weak."
"BOOOOO!" The crowd erupts once more, before the announcement, “On your marks, get set, Fight!”
Brogg and Korgen clash in a series of dives, uppercuts, and flourishes. Korgin looks to have the upper hand for a while, throwing punches and pushing Brogg back. But the tides quickly shift, as Brogg catches him with a headbutt, and tackles him into the ground. As Korgin attempted to gather his bearings, Brogg had already scaled a nearby pillar, and finishes the fight with an elbow drop drive, emerging on top and victorious.
“The winner is, Facewrecker!” The halfling raises Brogg’s hand, the crowd goes fucking crazy as some are cheering wildly, others are booing and screaming swearing, and others are chanting “Face-Wreck, Face-Wreck!” The halfling announces “A brief intermission will ensue, please return within the hour for the remainder of our enthralling brawls!”
As Brogg makes his way up the stand to find a seat, and on the way a kind of commoner-looking man and his young son, stand and approach you. “Uh hi, Mr. Facewrecker Sir, my son is a huge fan, uh well, he was wondering he if might get an autograph…” Brogg begins to reply, grabbing the pen and pencil, "Uh... yeah sure, no problem. What’s your name kid?", but as he does a flurry of motion catches his eye.
Armored Menace
Through the crowd, he sees a dwarf boy which messy brown hair and strange looking armor leap down over several people in the upper seats, and sprint down the aisle in his direction. Behind him, a scrawny black-haired highly pierced thug, aggressively pushes several people aside in pursuit, “Get back here you little punk bitch! Bonestealer, don’t play games!” With this very clear indicator, Vel, whose sitting close by, sees he’s found his man.
As Tem sprints away, flips through the different ways to lose his pursuer. He’s delt with Bonestealer twice before, one of Grenn’s lackies coming to collect, but was always able to out maneuver him, and get away. He’s not that smart or competent, but if he manages to take Tem back to Grenn, he might really be in trouble.
Vel and E-4 both spring into action, seeing both their targets doing the thing they were supposed to prevent them from doing. Eri, seeing a young child in danger, also enters the fray. Brogg, having been seemingly thrown into the situation, has little time to do anything as it all comes screaming toward him.
Tem sees his exits appear to be blocked, but also that he’s garnered quite the amount of attention. A normal teenager would be sunk in a situation such as this, but Tem, having a wit and an intellect that exceeds many others twice his age, is no ordinary teenager. Thinking fast, Tem proclaims Bonestealer to be a diddler who is trying to diddle him. While not necessarily true, really at all, it proves to be effective at leading to a standstill as Bonestealer finds himself having to defend himself to a crowd out people, but isn’t quite enough to keep him from dropping the truth which is that Tem was in debt to his boss for a lot of money.
Beginnings of the Crack Rack 5
Vel attempts to talk Nuno down, refusing to refer to him by his weird, likely self-given nickname. With basically everyone against him, this is partially successful, but Bonestealer remains indignant, “Grenn’s gonna hear about this ya know. You can’t avoid us forever. The Rock Snakes always come out on top! And guess what, you…interlopers, aren’t gonna get off easy neither. I’ve got a photographic memory you know! I’ll be back, and I’ll be bringing the rest of the boys too.”
With Vel trying to figure out what kind of mess Nuno might get Ellen caught up in, and E-4 questioning Tem on his involvement with whoever the Rock Snakes are, Tem, admits that he had borrowed some coin from a man named Grenn to buy a necessary peace for the new armor he’s been working on. He hasn’t been able to pay him back, and with interest piling up, he knows Grenn will come to collect whether he has the money or not. Knowing time is running out, Tem and E-4 ask the others if they’d help them deal with the thugs. Eri and Leeland hop at the opportunity to help a citizen in trouble, but ask that in return they help them take a pilgrimage to Helm’s Hold, through Southern Nescius; a scared journey known as Helm’s Walk. Vel, remains apprehensive, but Brogg, seeing the potential for a bit of adventure outside the ring, agrees with a “Sure, why not.”
Eri also takes this opportunity with the great Facewrecker to request a introduction to Lileth Steelhammer. Brogg replies, “Oh you mean Debbie? Yeah we could probably catch her before she heads out for the day.”
Inside the arena, a starstruck greeting his held between Eri, Leeland, and Lilith. Eri pleads with Lileth to accompany them on Helm’s Walk, seemingly catching Lilieth off guard. Though she doesn’t commit, Lileth offers to meet with her again in the Drunken Frog Inn speak with her more in detail.
As the day goes on, the group sticks close by awaiting the return of the Rock Snakes. As the sun begin to lower, people file out of the arena, yet no sign of Bonestealer or his crew. After a while Brogg peels off as well, chit-chatting with Korgin about the fight optics and potential improvements for next time. People filter out, the arena grows empty, day turns to dusk, dusk turns to night. The newly found adventures wait impatiently at the Balsalm Arena entrance to face Tem’s problems, face on. After a while, with the moon high in the sky, Leeland speaks up, “I don’t think they’re coming”
ABC Full Liek Orphanage
The fates of the Crack Rack 5 became interwined in the days following their encounter at the Fight Pits. For reasons, unbeknownst to them, they found themselves together in a dimly lit, unfamiliar building with no memory of how they'd arrived. Drawn by strange, inaudible voices, they discovered disturbing imagery and writing suggesting others had been held there before; and soon enough, they were too.
Captured by masked cultists, the party was subjected to physical and psychological torture. Fragmented, unsettling visions plagued each of them until a combination of help from an undercover cultist, Berezhki Wolakos, and an artifact now in Tem's possession allowed them to escape into the surrounding woods.
There they encountered a strange girl named Lee Ali, whose behavior grew increasingly erratic before she shoved Eri off a deck. At the same time, Brogg and E-4 notice the sillouette of an enormous chariot carrying a strange figure in the distance. In the chaos that followed, a group of shady ducks confronted the party at an unusual well, attempting to take Tem's artifact by force; but Lee got there first, grabbing it and leaping into the well herself.
The party gave chase, only to find themselves back in the Orphanage. The waiting room is darker now, the whispering voices replaced by incessant screaming. The party pursued back into the main chamber only to find a featureless, motionless man lurking in the shadows. Upon approaching, the man exploded into a writhing black mass of tortured being.
They fought. One by one, they fell.
They woke the next morning to the realization that this had not been their first time: it was simply the night they finally remembered the dream they'd been having for a week.
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