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.

A quick recap

Juliette Rougemont and Melodie Croupier find themselves in the Windbreak Sprithouse and Inn, on a stormy night in the costal village of pipers Quay.

Sabeen Sinann, the first born daughter of Lord Erskine,  has heard Garberend, one of the four fishers, has has uncovered an underground cave system while expanding his family’s root cellar and she  is curious about what may lay beyond the cellar.

Juliette and Melodie having agreed to go down there and find out what the caves contain, have been joined by Maricia Creag, proprietor of the Windbreak and Ranger. At the end of the last post the three companions had entered the caves, and things had gone badly wrong.

If you missed session 1 click here
or to read from the beginning (session 0) click here

Date and Wearther.

Season – Autumn
Date – September 13th .
Weather – Overcast,

Juliette and Melodie’s escape.

Juliette landed feet first in the salty water. Curiously, as she made contact with the pool, there was no sound—an odd silence that accompanied her arrival. Above her, the barrel smashed against the rocky wall and broke, its contents of rum cascading down to water below.

The shock of the cold water stole the breath from her lungs. However, Juliette swiftly regained her composure, gathering herself and pushing upwards towards the surface. She managed to grasp the end of the rope and began to swim the short distance to the opening where a worried Maricia waited.

The weight of soaked leather clung to Juliette like a drowning hand, each stroke a battle against the pull of the dark water. Ten feet felt like ten miles. At the jagged opening, Maricia knelt, lantern casting fractured light across the slick stone. She reached out—arm steady, eyes locked. Juliette grasped the offered hand, fingers slipping once before finding purchase. With a grunt and a heave, Maricia hauled her up, the sodden woman collapsing onto the ledge. Behind them, the rope jerked—Melodie still hung from the jagged spur of rock jutting from the cavern wall.

Maricia, taking the rope from Juliette, quickly walked deeper into the caves, where she tied the rope securely around a stalagmite, then made her way back to the ledge.
Standing at the edge, lantern in hand she shouts out to Melodie “I’ve secured the rope, try to unhook it from whatever you are caught on and carefully inch your way towards us. If you slip, drop into the water, we have you, and will pull you out.”

Juliette shouts accusingly at the bard “You better be dangling with style, Mel, because I just did a full-body dive for your drama!”

“You should be thanking me, that dive was your best entrance yet!” Melodie retorts.

Melodie makes a dexterity check, roll = 2, great success.

This time Melodie is more careful, she manages to find a secure footing in the cliff face, and a hand hold. She unhooks the rope from the rock it caught on and slowly makes her way towards the waiting Juliette and Maricia. As she gets within arm’s length, Juliette and Maricia reach out, grab her and pull her to safety.

Question. Is there anything in room 5? Yes, Fortune

Relieved to see Juliette and Melodie upright and unsquashed, Maricia gave the rope a brisk tug, coiled it with practiced ease, and turned toward the yawning darkness ahead. The cave floor glistened with moisture, slick as eel skin and twice as treacherous. Each step squelched ominously, echoing off stone like distant applause from something unseen.

Just ahead, the tunnel narrowed—and then dropped. Again. Another steep descent, moodier than the last, as if the cave itself were testing their resolve. Maricia squinted into the gloom, muttering, “If Gwyr’s crypt isn’t at the bottom of this, I’m throwing him off it myself.”

Maricia uncoils her rope and ties it to another stalagmite and beckons Melodie towards her, “We have to get down there, I’ll tie the rope firmly around here, you tie it firmly around your middle, then climb down, slowly and be careful.”

Melodie makes a dex check, she needs 13 or less and rolls 13.  

Melodie descended with the grace of someone who almost trusted the rope, her boots skimming the slick stone like a cautious dancer. The cave’s damp breath clung to her cloak, and each foothold felt like it might sigh and give way.

All went well—until it didn’t.

Ten feet from the bottom, her foot betrayed her, skidding sideways with a wet slap. Her fingers lost their grip, and gravity seized the moment. She plummeted in a flurry of limbs and curses, flipping once in a rather undignified pirouette before landing in a crumpled heap at the foot of the slope.

There was a long pause. Then a muffled voice from the pile:

“I meant to do that.”

Thankfully, nothing was broken but her pride—and possibly a hatpin.

Juliette makes a dex check, she needs 17 or less and rolls 6.

Juliette followed next, her descent so smooth it might as well have been choreographed. She moved with the effortless grace of a cat burglar on polished marble, barely disturbing the rope as she slid down. Her boots kissed the cave floor with a soft thud, and she landed in a crouch that would’ve made a statue jealous.

She glanced over at Melodie, still untangling herself from her upside-down dignity pile.

“Well,” Juliette smirked, brushing a speck of cave dust from her sleeve, “I suppose that’s one way to make an entrance.”

Melodie groaned theatrically and held up a finger.

“I was testing the cave’s acoustics. For… bardic reasons.”

Juliette raised an eyebrow. “Did they echo back ‘ow’?”

Maricia makes a dex check, she needs 18 or less and rolls 18.

Maricia, meanwhile, stood at the top of the slope, arms crossed, rope slung over one shoulder, and a look that said she was seriously reconsidering her life choices. She muttered under her breath:

“Storms, pirates, crypts… and now slapstick spelunking. What am I doing down here with these two?”

Still, she smiled faintly. Because despite the chaos, they were alive, together, and the crypt of Gwyr the Horrible wasn’t going to uncover itself.

With the rope now dangling uselessly behind Juliette’s smug descent and Melodie’s interpretive plummet, Maricia eyed the slope with quiet resolve. No rope, no handholds—just slick stone and gravity’s invitation.

She stepped forward, testing the angle, and began her descent with the fluid confidence of someone who’d once danced along ship rigging in a storm. Her boots slid, her balance shifted, and for a moment it looked like she might actually make it all the way down in one piece.

Then came the final ten feet.

The cave floor rushed up to meet her—but instead of crumpling like Melodie, Maricia twisted mid-air, landed with feline precision, and straightened without so much as a wince. Her cloak settled around her like a wave receding from shore.

Juliette gave a slow clap.

“Show-off.”

Melodie, still brushing cave dust from her hair, squinted up.

“Did you float down? Was that a sea elf thing?”

Maricia didn’t answer. She just adjusted her belt, glanced toward the next tunnel, and muttered,

“Next time, I’m bringing a ladder. Or better companions.”

But the corners of her mouth betrayed her—just the faintest smile. Because despite the bruises, banter, and questionable technique, they were still together. And the crypt of Gwyr the Horrible was getting closer.

The trio stood at the bottom of the descent, breath catching in the cool, mineral-tinged air. Maricia’s lantern cast a warm, flickering glow across the small circular chamber, its light dancing off damp stone and the gentle ripples of a shallow pool at the centre. The water was still—unnaturally so—as if holding its breath.

A narrow path curled around the pool like a serpent guarding its hoard. And scattered across the ground, glinting like stars fallen from a forgotten sky, lay sixty-nine ancient silver coins. Each one shimmered in the lanternlight, their surfaces worn but etched with symbols none of them recognized—waves, fish bones, and a stylized eye that seemed to follow them.

Juliette crouched, picking one up and flipping it between her fingers.

“Either someone was very careless… or very deliberate.”

Melodie leaned in, eyes wide.

“Do you think they’re cursed? Or enchanted? Or just really old and shiny?”

Maricia didn’t answer immediately. She stepped closer to the pool, watching the coins reflect in its surface like constellations.

“Whatever they are, they weren’t left here by accident.”

Somewhere deep within the cave, a faint drip echoed. The crypt of Gwyr the Horrible was close—and it was watching.

Maricia shone her lantern into the area, a short empty corridor, empty and damp, the companions walked down it with caution, reaching the end Maricia held her lantern high and peered into a small chamber.

Question. Is there anything in the chamber? No.

The small chamber revealed nothing except bones, human bones, ‘the person who dropped the coins?’ Maricia pondered to herself. Melodie and Juliette followed in behind, “Lets move on,” Maricia wispered.

The companions entered an L shaped corridor.

Question. Is there anything in the corridor? No, Misfortune…

This corridor lay silent, its stone walls slick with the damp breath of the crypt. As they neared the exit arch, a sudden hush pressed in—then, without warning, Maricia’s lantern sputtered and died, plunging them into a darkness that felt older than memory.

Then a second chamber opened up like a breath held too long—thirty feet wide, twenty deep, its walls slick with condensation and the faint shimmer of mineral veins. Maricia led the way, her sea-born eyes adjusting to the gloom, picking out vague shapes and shadows. Behind her, Melodie fumbled with flint and dry torch, muttering encouragement to herself. Juliette brought up the rear, dagger drawn, eyes sharp, boots silent.

The trio moved cautiously, the silence broken only by the scratch of flint and the occasional frustrated sigh from Melodie.

Then—fwoom—the torch caught.

A warm, flickering glow burst into life, casting sudden clarity across the chamber.

“Got it!” Melodie beamed.

“About time,” Juliette murmured.

The light spilled forward just in time to reveal what lay ahead—Maricia, one foot already extended, teetering on the edge of a sheer forty-foot drop.

She froze mid-step, eyes wide, cloak billowing slightly in the torchlight. The ground simply vanished beneath her, a chasm yawning open like the mouth of some ancient beast.

Juliette lunged forward, grabbing the back of Maricia’s belt and yanking her to safety with practiced rogue reflexes.

“You’re welcome,” she said, cool as cave stone.

Maricia exhaled slowly, then turned to Melodie.

“Good timing.”

Melodie, still clutching the torch like a trophy, blinked.

“I was going to say something dramatic, but I think I used up all my luck on the flint.”

They peered into the drop, shadows dancing below. No sound came from the depths—just the quiet promise of danger yet to be named.

To be continued.

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