The Bay of Spirits, created by Randy M and published by Roan Studios, is a gritty, untamed land where fisherfolk, farmers, loggers, and miners coexist with sailors, merchants, soldiers, and adventurers.
Its hard, unforgiving terrain and low fantasy tone make it a perfect match for the equally grounded and perilous RPG Tales of Argosa by Pickpocket Press.

I’ve long wanted to explore this wild corner of the world through solo play—and now, with dice in hand and danger on the wind, I’m diving in.
Join me for what I hope will be an epic solo campaign through the Bay of Spirits.

Low magic. High stakes. One bard, one rogue, and a mask that whispers.

Toolbox.

Rules: Tales of Argosa RPG from Pickpocket Press
Setting and stuff: Piper’s Quay and the Secrets of Wrym Cove, and several other publications by Roan Studios.
Oracle: The Bones dice and Deck of Signs Cards by Pickpocket Press.

🛡️ Content Note

This campaign features combat, peril, and the occasional monster getting bashed over the head with a sword. Death may come swiftly—but I steer clear of distressing detail.
Expect grit, not gore. And while the world may be harsh, the storytelling stays respectful.
There’s never any need for vulgarity in solo play.

The protagonists.

Juliette Rougemont: Daring Rogue of Crimson Shadows

Born on a moonless night under the flickering lanterns of the Harbour Quarter of Merchants Gut, Juliette Rougemont was destined for the shadows. Born the fifth daughter of a forgotten courtesan and an infamous fence, Juliette Rougemont began her days steeped in tinctures and whispers, apprenticed to a herbalist with more secrets than salves. She learned early that velvet words could open doors, and quick hands could close them just as fast. Even as a child she possessed a tongue sharper than any dagger and an uncanny ability to slip through the cracks in high society—or vanish into the under belly of Merchants Gut when the law grew too curious.

Juliette’s flamboyant dress—a whirl of crimson lace, silks, and teasing ribbons—earned her the moniker “La Rouge.” She stalked every ballroom and back alley with the same predatory grace, leaving both admirers and adversaries alike breathless. No challenge was too great; no authority sacred; and no scheme beneath her attention, provided it dazzled her senses and made her heart race.

Eventually her reputation in Merchants Gut caught up with the young Juliette, and joined a travelling troupe of wandering minstrels, illusionists, and thieves. Within their numbers she found kinship and a kindred spirit in Melodie Crupier, an impulsive, bagpipe-playing bard with a penchant for mischief and music in equal measure.

It was Melodie who first mentioned the Masque du Dernier Soupir, crafted by the troupes lead performer, Virelle of the Veil, who vanished mid-performance, leaving only the mask behind. Together they plotted to steal it, unaware that the mask had not finished its performance..
Melodies quick wit and Juliette’s deft fingers saw them into the new leader of the troupe, Larmes Noires (Black Tears), caravan. There amid the scent of roses and faded applause, they liberated the mask, its cold touch promising both glory and doom.

The theft made them enemies of Larmes Noires overnight—and enemies of powers both mortal and infernal. Now Juliette , dressed in crimson attire, wanders The Bay of Spirits with Melodie and the mask. She remains sassy, spicy, and utterly impertinent, her every escapade a dance on the knife’s edge between life and oblivion.

Melodie Croupier: Mistress of the Pipes and the Stage

Born under a shifting crescent and the lingering notes of a festival’s final song, Melodie Croupier was destined for the stage as much as for the shadows. Growing up in Starlington and working her formative years as a rat catcher, her earliest memories are woven from the tapestry of street performers, flickering lanterns, and the distinctive stirring sound of distant bagpipes—a sound that called out to her soul before she ever touched the instrument.

Tiring of rat catching, Melodie joined the travelling troupe Les Égarés du Voile—a company of artists, tricksters, and dreamers. She gained not only the skills of her chosen craft, but also the boundless curiosity and impulsive spirit that would define her life.

Travelling with Les Égarés du Voile was chaotic and ever-changing. It was in this environment that Melodie learned the art of improvisation, a quick tongue, and how a single note from her pipes could halt a quarrel or forge a friendship.

Her bagpipes became her signature—a breath of tempest and yearning that set her apart from the other members of this extraordinary troupe. Her charisma was irresistible: coaxing laughter from the surliest merchant, silencing a tavern fight, or weaving sorrow into song so haunting that listeners found themselves weeping for a loss they couldn’t name. Yet it was her reckless nature—her willingness to leap before looking, to gamble everything for the thrill of the unknown—that drew both admiration and concern from the rest of the troupe.

In Les Égarés, Melodie found friendship and kindred spirit in Juliette Rougemont, a rogue whose sass could unnerve even the most stoic knight. Juliette’s unruly charm and Melodie’s magnetic presence proved a formidable combination—on both stage and in the shadowed corners of intrigue. Spinning tales and plotting mischief, each fuelled the other’s appetite for risk and adventure.

The legend of Melodie Croupier truly began with the theft of the Masque du Dernier Soupir—the Mask of the Final Sigh. Created by Virelle of the Veil, the mask was said to grant its wearer the power to charm death itself, to speak with voices of the forgotten. After Virelle vanished mid-performance, leaving only the mask behind, Melodie and Juliette conspired to steal it.

The heist itself was a dance—Melodie’s quick wit and Juliette’s deft fingers saw them into the caravan of the troupe’s new leader, Larmes Noires. There, amid the scent of roses and faded applause, they liberated the mask—its cold touch promising both glory and doom.

Larmes, believing Virelle’s disappearance was a trick and that the two companions stole the mask to return it to her, is determined to reclaim it.

And so Melodie Croupier’s journey is far from over. With her bagpipes slung across her back and the mask hidden (for now) in a battered satchel, she wanders ever onward with Juliette by her side—seeking the next adventure, the next audience, and the next story that will shape her song forever.

For Melodie, life is a composition—sometimes wild, sometimes sorrowful, but always vibrant and unforgettable. And in every crowd, someone will whisper the name of the bard who stole the demon’s mask and played the melody that changed the world.

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Starting Location, Date and Weather.

Season – Autumn
Date – September 13th .
Weather – Overcast, Heavy Rain, Strong Winds.

Rumour’s and Information.

Pirates have been seen out at sea but have not ventured close to land.

Orcs, Goblins and Orges have been spotted in the wilds of the interior.

A fisherfolk from the Quay has uncovered an underground cave system while expanding his family’s root cellar.

Sabeen Sinann, the first born daughter of Lord Erskine, has heard of the fisherfolk’s find and is curious about what may lay beyond the
cellar. She is a follower of the Old Gods and believes the newfound caves could lead to the lost crypt of Gwyr the Horrible

Setting the scene: Evening at the Windbreak Spirithouse and Inn.

Question. Is everything as normal in the Windbreak?
Consult the Bones. Extremely great NO. Fortune.
Read the Signs. Plague, Distrust, Crushing, Earth.

Juliette stepped out of the bathroom, clean and refreshed. The hood of her crimson coat covered not just her wet hair but hid her face too, allowing her to observe those few patrons who have risked venturing out. Silently, she glided across the tap room floor to the table where her companion and friend Melodie sat with a dish piled high with small fish in front of her, which the bard stuffed into her mouth with far too much enthusiasm, at least in Juliette’s opinion..

“do you have to eat those, those things, with such, such gusto”

“Fried capelin, a local delicacy, and only 2 coppers for a as many as you can eat, well, as will fit on a plate” the bard spluttered as she forced another forkful of the fries in to her hungry mouth.

“Local delicacy! How come only you are eating them then? They look revolting and no doubt taste revolting. Locals probably know better than to eat them”, Juliette pulled her hood back and sat down opposite her companion, “Quiet in here tonight, just those four wellborn sat in the corner over there”

Question. How many men are in the tavern? Rolled 1d6+1=4.

Melodie glance’s over her shoulder towards four men at a table by the entrance to the inn, three are seated, one stands looking out of a window, conversation between the men is non existent. Wellborn they certainly are not. Commonfolk, local fishermen no doubt Melodie says to herself. All four men are covered in a grimy layer of earth and sand.

Melodie’s attention returned to her companion, “Storm’s probably keeping everyone indoors. These ain’t too bad—want some?”, she asks, pointing to her plate of fried capelin.

“They are all yours, mind you don’t choke on the bones”. Juliette calls over to the Innkeeper, one Marcia Creag, “say, barkeep, you got anything that that actually resembles food, unlike the stuff my friends forcing down her neck”.

Marcia brings over a platter of roast halibut and vegetables and places it on the table next to Juliette, along with a goblet of wine “I hope this will be more to your liking, and a glass of dogberry wine to wash it down, how was you bath, water warm enough?”.

“Warm enough to boil a lobster,” Juliette replied with a grin. “Thanks, Marcia.”

Before Juliette could say more the entrance swings open.

Question, Who is at the door? 1= Pirates, 2 = Fisherfolk, 3 = Sabeen Sinann, 4 = Goblins, 5 = Callast Zale, Cleric of Calla, 6 = No one, the door has just blown open. D6 = 3.

Standing in the entrance is a woman, none other than Sabeen Sinann. The door swung open with a gust of wind, causing the flames in the hearth to flicker and dance. Her silhouette was framed by the storm raging outside, her cloak billowing around her like a dark, ominous cloud.

“Shut the door, woman! You’re letting a draught in and it’s freezing my…” Juliette began, her tone dripping with irritation. Sensing Juliette was about to say something vulgar and profane, Marcia quickly interjected.

“My lady Sinann, you are most welcome! Please, allow me to serve you a warming drink on this most inhospitable of evenings. Perhaps some food to accompany it?”

Sabeen stepped fully into the Windbreak Spirithouse, her boots leaving muddy prints on the worn floorboards. She lowered her hood, revealing a pale face framed by damp black curls, eyes sharp and searching. She ignored Marcia’s offer at first, her gaze sweeping the room like a hawk scanning for prey.

Her eyes settled on the four grimy men by the door.

“You,” she said, voice low but commanding. “You were digging.”

The standing man turned slowly, his expression unreadable. One of the seated men shifted uncomfortably, casting a glance toward the hearth.

“We were expanding a cellar,” he muttered. “That’s all.”

Sabeen stepped forward, rain dripping from her cloak. “And did you find the stone arch? The one carved with the mark of the Old Gods?”

The man hesitated. Melodie paused mid-bite, fork hovering. Juliette leaned back in her chair, eyes narrowing.

“No arch,” the man said. “Just damp rock and old bones.”

Sabeen’s lips curled into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Bones are a beginning.”

She turned to Marcia at last. “Dogberry wine will do.”

Marcia nodded, bustling off, though her glance lingered uneasily on the men.

Juliette leaned toward Melodie, voice low. ““I don’t like this. She’s got ‘ancient evil enthusiast’ written all over her.””

Melodie wiped her mouth and whispered back, “She’s got the look of someone who’s about to drag us into something we’ll regret.”

Sabeen took her seat by the fire, steam rising from her bowl of root stew. She didn’t speak at first—just watched the four men with a look that could curdle milk. Then she turned to Juliette and Melodie.

“I take it you’re not from Piper’s Quay,” she said, voice smooth as dogberry wine. “You still have your nerve intact.”

Juliette raised an eyebrow. “Nerve, yes. Common sense, absolutely. Which is why we’re staying dry and above ground.”

Sabeen smiled faintly. “The cave system beneath the cellar—it’s not just damp rock and bones. There are markings. Symbols of the Old Gods. I believe it may lead to the crypt of Gwyr the Horrible.”

Melodie perked up. “Gwyr the Horrible? That’s a name with flair.”

Juliette groaned. “That’s a name that screams ‘trap door and poison darts.’”

Sabeen leaned in, her voice dropping. “I’ll pay you. Twenty silver now, and another twenty if you return with proof. A relic. A carving. Anything.”

Juliette swirled her wine. “Tempting. But I don’t fancy dying in a hole just to fund your religious scavenger hunt.”

Sabeen didn’t flinch. “Then perhaps you’ll do it for the town. The fisherfolk are frightened. Something stirred down there. The men who dug it out—” she gestured to the four silent figures “—they heard something. Breathing. Whispering. And now they won’t go near it.”

Melodie glanced at Juliette. “Whispers in the dark. That’s practically a bardic invitation.”

Juliette sighed. “Fine. But if I get eaten by a ghost, I’m haunting you both.”

Sabeen shot a sharp glance at Juliette, her initial dislike for the young rogue’s irreverent demeanor already forming. She quickly finished her wine, “I suggest you both finish your meals, get some rest, and I will meet you in the morning.” With that she left, returning to the raging storm outside.

To be continued.

*Images of Marcia and Sabeen, and Pipers Quay are by the talented Randy M and from his publication Pipers Quay and the Secrets of Wyrm Cove.