Adventure, The Last Breaths of Ashenport

It stands a lonely vigil atop a remote northern shore, hunkered down against the terrible ocean storms. For most of the decade, it sits alone, for trade in the region has almost died. If this were any other town, it would long since have been forgotten, or perhaps even abandoned.

But this is no other village. This is Ashenport.

Here, the fish are plentiful, netted in numbers that defy explanation. Here, the crops grow and thrive despite the rocky, unforgiving soil. Here, the ocean offers up its riches willingly, like a bashful lover revealing hidden treasures.

The streets of Ashenport are eerily quiet, the only sounds being the relentless crash of waves against the jagged cliffs and the mournful call of seabirds circling above. The air is thick with the scent of salt and something else, something darker that lingers just at the edge of perception—a mix of brine and decay. The buildings, constructed from weather-beaten wood and stone, lean into each other as if sharing whispered secrets, their windows like empty eyes watching your every move.

And here, now, as the storms roll in and the tide drops to its lowest ebb, the time has come once again for Ashenport to repay that favor. They offer their prayers. They offer their veneration. And they offer the blood, the flesh, and the souls of those whom they have lured to their isolated town. For their patron is none other than Anastasia, Black Queen of the Deep, and in payment for her beneficence, she accepts nothing less.

“The Last Breaths of Ashenport” is an adventure of survival and alien horrors for 6th-level PCs.  As the players arrive in Ashenport, they will find themselves drawn into a web of secrets and lies, with the townspeople alternately pleading for help and pushing them away. The PCs must navigate treacherous waters—both literal and metaphorical—as they uncover the truth about Ashenport’s prosperity and the terrible price that comes with it.

The adventure is self-contained.

The adventure will challenge the players' wits and bravery as they face the following:

• The Storm of Sorrows: A fierce, otherworldly tempest that brings with it creatures from the deep and threatens to drown the town in its fury.

• The Black Queen's Chosen: A cult of devoted followers who will stop at nothing to ensure their dark mistress's demands are met, even if it means their own destruction.

• The Ruins Beneath the Waves: Submerged caverns and tunnels that hide ancient, eldritch secrets and treasures guarded by guardians from another age.

• The Final Ritual: A climactic confrontation within the desecrated church, where the PCs must decide whether to thwart the ritual and save the town, or perhaps, join in the madness.

Each decision, each step taken in Ashenport, brings the players closer to an understanding of the true nature of the town's dark patron and the ultimate test of their resolve. Will they break the cycle of blood and fear, or will they become yet another offering to the insatiable Black Queen of the Deep?

Prepare for a descent into madness and maritime dread, where the only certainty is that nothing in Ashenport is as it seems.

Adventure Background:

Ashenport should have died almost a generation ago, as did other towns along this rocky coast. When the local priests could offer the townsfolk no hope, they turned to a darker patron, guided by several of their eldest citizens who remembered older, bloodier ways.

These men thought they were seeking aid from the same source. Only they tapped into a force that doesn't concern itself with benevolence. Not hardly. Through some ritual or another, they aligned themselves with the Black Queen.

Ever since, the people of Ashenport have dwelt, if not in luxury, then at least in comfort. Fishing, hunting, and farming are easy. Sunken treasures appear regularly in shallow waters. A trade route long fallen into obscurity has begun once again to show traces of life.

But the Queen of the Depths gives nothing for free. Every autumn, at the lowest tide, the dark waters beyond Ashenport sing a terrible song. The sea resounds with Call of the Deep, a mystical summons that compels all who hear it—save for Anastasia’s own worshipers—to march into the sea and allow themselves to drown. The bodies go to feed her children’s ravenous hunger.

That time has come again. Travelers, few though they are, converge on the town, attracted by any number of rumors and announcements. The storms move in, ensuring that those on the road must take shelter at Ashenport, and those already present cannot leave. Nothing now remains but for Anastasia’s cultists to let the sea claim its due.

Nothing, of course, except the presence of a few strangers for whom the townsfolk are unprepared . . .

The PCs arrive in the midst of a truly horrific storm. After taking shelter in the local inn, they experience Call of the Deep during their first night. Afterward, the town appears to have been abandoned overnight, despite the fact that there’s no way to leave. Closer inspection reveals a populace huddled in their homes, hiding a terrible secret, while their leaders have vanished to prepare for some great rite.

When the Call sounds again, in a day made night by the overhanging clouds, the sea reaches out for the PCs directly, in the form of frog-men.

Eventually, by questioning or following the remaining townsfolk, the PCs discover the shrine of Deep, concealed beneath Ashenport’s church. Within, they have the opportunity to confront the human leader of the cult, but this is not the end of their travails in Ashenport.

Only at the moment of lowest tide, either guided by cultists or warned by fellow travelers, can the party locate the complex of caves at the rocky shore, wherein the inhuman Voice of the Deep dwells. Only by defeating this threat, the true architect of the horrors of Ashenport, can the heroes save themselves and end the threat of Anastasia’s cult.

Town Overview

Ashenport lies somewhere on a western coast, straddling the small, sluggishly flowing river. Nestled in a bowl-shaped depression, Ashenport is surrounded by marshlands, and further hemmed-in by forest to the south and east. North of Ashenport has steep hills.

GMs may place Ashenport anywhere in their campaign.

Ashenport is largely unoccupied; most abandoned buildings are genuinely unoccupied, but many are the home to hybrid horrors and other ichthyic monstrosities. With so many vacant buildings, the GM will find no shortage of locations for any particular horrors he would like populating his own personal vision of Ashenport.

Adventure Hooks

Obviously, the adventure requires that the PCs find their way to Ashenport at more or less the right time. Presented below are several ways you can accomplish this.

Random Chance: Perhaps the easiest way is simply to have the PCs on the road that passes through Ashenport when the terrible storms roll in, forcing them to seek shelter on their way to some place else. As they pass the village, they are drawn into the adventure, especially if the members of the group are of a good alignment.

Trade Fair: As the time for the sacrifice nears, Ashenport sends word to various communities and merchant guilds, inviting a few travelers to a festival where they will trade fish, local crafts, and treasures salvaged from the sea in exchange for various goods difficult to come by so far from civilization. The PCs might choose to attend on their own volition or, more likely, be asked to attend on behalf of an NPC patron.

Investigation: While the town is quite isolated and the road lightly traveled, it’s possible that someone has noticed the pattern of annual disappearances in the area around Ashenport. The PCs may be here specifically to investigate what’s been happening. Alternatively one (or more) of the adventurers remembers that someone they know (either a friend, relative, former comrade or acquaintance) lives in the nearby Ashenport. Unless the group is in a hurry for some reason, it should not be out of their way to stop by for a visit to renew old friendships, get the scoop on local events, and possibly catch a home cooked meal out of this.

Arrival by Sea

If the players are arriving by ship, read or paraphrase the following:

Your vessel thuds against the dark pier. Sailors leap off the gunwale and begin securing the ship to the dock with ropes.

The Captain Tarquen lets out a sigh of relief, which you share. For several tense moments there you were not sure if the mainmast of the vessel would hold. Even with the sails furled, it has creaked and groaned ominously as you entered the harbor.

Standing on the dock, you can see more of the damage to the hull. A cold and bitter wind blows clouds across the night sky and the moon’s gleam is briefly obscured. It begins raining again.

After awhile, you realize that you have seen no curious fisherman, crew from other ships, merchants, or late-night carousers-anyone at all from this harbor village. Through the rain however, you spot some lights in the buildings further into town.

The Captain suggests looking for supplies and repair materials there. In particular, he needs materials to repair the mainmast and the worst of the hull damage. You look towards the lights in the town and hope that you will find what you need quickly.

To the southeast behind you, the docks form a hedge against the bay, perhaps serving a purpose more like a levee, as they are covered in sandbags. To the right the river has overflowed its banks, dividing the town into murky east and slightly-less murky west banks.

The wharves are completely deserted as well as you can discern. You walk past dark edifices that might have been used as warehouses or merchant offices once. They are in severe disrepair now. Not a single light gleams from their windows, many of which were shattered long ago. Rats scurry from under your feet, and squeak indignantly at you from the safety of crannies and junk piles as you intrude through their territory. After a few minutes, you come out of the warehouse district and find yourself walking up a hill. The cobblestone street runs west from the docks. At the crest of the hill, you can look back and see your ship some distance away against the surging darkness that is the unquiet ocean.

If the PCs are approaching the town by land, read or paraphrase the following:

Between the heavy clouds and the endless rain, you might as well be blind. In the occasional flash of lightning, however, as the rain is forced aside by a gust of howling wind, you can just barely make out the road ahead. A veritable river of mud twists and winds through a copse of gnarled trees and along a rocky coastline battered by white-capped swells.

And beyond, visible only by the brightest thunderbolts, stands a town. From what you can see, the buildings are old and patched, and the roofs are shingled peaks. Just another town, it seems, but something about it sets your teeth on edge, and your skin to crawling. But then, perhaps it is just the cold and the rain . . .

Ashenport Conditions

The roads leading to and within Ashenport are so sodden that they’ve all become mud, reducing movement to one-half speed. Once the first night in Ashenport falls, the weather grows even worse, as the Black Queen’s power works to ensure the sacrifices cannot escape. It continues to rain within Ashenport, and the weather beyond the town grows into a terrible thunderstorm.

After characters spend at least 24 hours in town, a successful roll on an appropriate skill reveals that the weather patterns are not natural.

Rain (within Ashenport): A monsoon downpour and strong winds (30 mph/48 km). People flee for cover and have no desire to go into the rain whatsoever. Those who stay in the rain will get drenched in a matter of one melee round (15 seconds). Visibility is reduced to just 60 feet (18.3 m), resulting in a –4 penalty on Perception. The rain automatically extinguishes any unprotected flames, and it has a 50% chance of extinguishing protected flames (such as lanterns). Ranged weapon attacks are at a –4 to strike.

Thunderstorms (outside Ashenport): The combined effects of precipitation and wind reduce visibility ranges by three quarters, imposing a –8 penalty on Spot, Search, and Listen checks. Storms make ranged weapon attacks impossible, except for those using siege weapons, which have a –4 penalty on attack rolls. They automatically extinguish candles, torches, and similar unprotected flames. They cause protected flames, such as those of lanterns, to dance wildly and have a 50% chance to extinguish these lights. Assume one lightning bolt per minute. Each bolt causes electricity damage equal to 1d10 eight-sided dice. The severe winds check any movement by Medium creatures and threaten to knock small creatures back. These effects don’t come into play during the adventure itself, but they should encourage the PCs not to abandon Ashenport early.

Illumination: Due to the storm, night and day aren’t much different. The PCs will have to provide their own light sources.

Arrival by Land

When the PCs arrive, read or paraphrase the following:

Tufts of stringy moss dangle from the ancient oaks as you enter the gates of the town. The streets seem desolate and a silver mist hangs in the moist air. The buildings are set close to one-another, hemming you in.

The salty tang of the sea, and the lingering odor of a hundred years of fishing, insinuate themselves around your mouth and nose. Even the torrential rains and winds cannot completely strip the powerful stench from the air.

Although still rendered gray and miserable by the constant downpour, the town of Ashenport actually looks better up close than it did from a distance. You can now see that many of the buildings are sturdier than they appeared; a few are even made of quarried stone, rather than wood. Here the buildings appear to be more like habitations.

Even in the inclement weather, several shops bustle with activity, and the light that gleams through many a window is bright and cheerful. Sporadic people trudge their way along the muddy roads, shoulders hunched against the rain, going about this business or that.

Anyone whom the PCs approach can tell them that the town still plans to hold its trade fair, but that Alderman Ritter has decided to wait for the weather to clear up. The townsfolk are only too happy to point the PCs toward the Smooth Sailing Inn and Tavern. “Ain’t just the only place in town for a hot meal and a warm bed,” the PCs are told, “but the only place in a dozen leagues. Might meet you there later to hoist a tankard or two; gods know I’ll not be doing much else ’til the sky stops weepin’.”

In fact, every citizen of Ashenport is a member of Anastasia’s cult, and each citizen is automatically hostile to the PCs and other strangers. However, they put on an act of friendliness, trying to keep the strangers off guard until the sea claims them.

The storm is pounding and the roads have turned to mud. With the possible exception of a stray townsperson, nobody braves the elements to greet the PCs. While they might explore the town a bit, they almost certainly wind up at the Smooth Sailing Inn and Tavern eventually.

The Smooth Sailing Inn and Tavern

Smooth Sailing is Ashenport’s largest tavern, and the town’s only inn. Any of the townsfolk can direct the party here, and if the PCs want a roof over their heads, this is the only place to find it. The building marked 1A represents the stables, located behind the Smooth Sailing but not technically part of the same structure.

Different styles of architecture suggest the building before you was once two or three separate shops, before someone sealed up the spaces between and knocked down the intervening walls. It now forms the largest structure on the block. Smoke rises from several chimneys, only to vanish into the falling rain. Firelight gleams through several windows, and the sound of conversation—nearly inaudible in the storm—leaks from the doorway. A weathered planking hanging above the door with rusty wire with the words "Smooth Sailing", portraying a ship at full sail on a waveless sea, flaps violently in the wind. You open the door and step inside.

The impression of three buildings joined into one continues once the PCs enter.

Three different patterns of wooden floor, at three slightly different levels, make up the common room. Beyond this single quirk, however, this might as well be any other tavern: a bar stands on one side of the chamber, a staircase on the other, with a smattering of chairs and tables scattered throughout. Two fireplaces radiate a comforting warmth throughout the room, and several serving staff whirl about with tankards of ale and plates of smoked fish.

The smell of fried fish assails your nose. Cheap tobacco smoke too. The noise of the conversation subsides as everyone turns to see who these new arrivals are. One and all, they regard you carefully for a moment. The sight of your gear, weapons, and armor seem to convince them that you aren’t worth robbing, bullying, or killing…and you don’t pose any immediate threat to them. After a moment they return to their conversations. In the corner of the room to your right, a bard goes back to plucking chords on his lyre.

You scan the room and see a few faces. Most of these locals have protruding ears and noses that are more bulbous than what your people look like. At one end of the bar you notice a woman in her sixties. She looks at you and arches an eyebrow. A greasy man with dark hair, mutton chops, bulbous nose and protruding ears walks up to you, wiping his hands on a splotchy apron. You can see lice squirming in his beard and hair when he nears. He leans in too close to your face and says, “I’m Pioter. I own this here inn. You’s strangers be wanting some ale, chow, a room, or what?”

The PCs can get very basic drinks and foodstuffs here for 110% of the prices.

The Smooth Sailing is bustling, at least in a relative sense, with activity, and contains several people with whom the PCs might interact.

Pioter (Miscrent Evil, human expert level 2): Pioter is the owner and proprietor of the Smooth Sailing Inn and Tavern. He’s a sour-looking fellow, with gaunt, unshaven cheeks and salt-and-pepper hair. Unlike his serving staff, he makes no effort to appear friendly, instead standing gruffly behind the bar and directing any efforts at conversation toward one of his staff.

Sannuel, Relina, and Manelda (Miscrent Evil male, female, and female human commoner 2):

The staff of the Smooth Sailing is far friendlier than their boss, or at least they act that way. They’re quick to respond to orders and happy to answer questions about the history of the town—minus any reference to the Requiax or the Black Queen of course. Sannuel is a dashing rake of a man, and Relina fits the stereotypical image of the buxom blonde barmaid to a T. Manelda is somewhat older, and she gives the impression of having seen it all before.

Guests: Currently, the Smooth Sailing is playing host to almost two dozen guests (plus the PCs), and is full nearly to capacity. These guests include the following:

• Surrens, Creel, and Blackwell guards (Aberrant male and female human warrior 2).

• Jandal Phen (Scrupulous male human expert 2). Jandal is a jeweler and sculptor, hoping to sell his services to the folks of Ashenport to restore, reshape, and create duplicates of their various treasures. He’s friendly, but somewhat intimidated by his fellow guests, and he is worried that their presence will make his own efforts harder.

• 2 hired bodyguards (Neutral male human warrior 2).

Once there, the staff greets them jovially enough, and the PCs (and players) can spend a few moments in conversation with Terza, Matthias, Jandal, and the others. While the weather is miserable, nothing obviously untoward occurs until after midnight.

The players can learn the following information:

• • The town had once fallen on hard times, the land around Ashenport has become infertile. Some say that it was the God-King punishing the people of Ashenport for their lack of devotion.

  • If the party tries to secure passage on another vessel out, they find out there are no vessels that are seaworthy enough to make a long voyage.

  • A guest at the inn has been moaning in pain and disturbing the other occupants, but he won't come out of his room and has barred the door somehow.

  • There can't be more than 300-400 people left in Ashenport. A lot of houses in Ashenport are ruined or abandoned, but many are actually inhabited by vagrants and squatters.

  • Some of the worst-looking of Ashenport's deformed folk are kept locked up in attics and cellars.

  • The fishing off Ashenport is supposed to be excellent---but only the Ashenport fishermen know the waters well enough to avoid ripping their nets and/or losing their boats on the reefs and submerged rocks. Outsiders who have tried their luck in these waters have little success, and sometimes are run off by the locals.

  • The mines and refinery produce a lot of gold.

  • There are supposed to be terrible monsters lurking in the salt marshes north of Ashenport.

  • Some of the old warehouses in Ashenport still have forgotten cargoes stored in them.

  • Rumors say that people have disappeared while visiting Ashenport.

  • The founder of the town discovered a pirate hoard somewhere out on the main reef. The gold jewelry worn by the locals is part of that hoard.

  • There is a vicious gang of brigands working out of the ruined houses north of the river. Stay clear of that area.

  • A plague brought back from the northern continents swept through the village, killing many residents and deforming others.

Random Encounters at the Smooth Sailing Inn:

1% Manelda comments on how one of the PCs looks and gives them a bowl of soup on the house. The food is drugged.

2% Sannuel offers the PCs room at the Inn for half price and offers to take their bags. He will conveniently misplace their belongings at some point.

Kitchen:

Perception checks to a DC 19 (but remember to account for the penalties due to the rain). Those who succeed notice that the rear door to the tavern is open, or hear activity in the kitchen. Although this could be any of the guests rooting around for a snack, that seems unlikely immediately after Anastasia’s Call. Those who make the check also recognize that someone is trying to be stealthy.

If the PCs enter the kitchen, they find Pioter dosing the food and drink with a foul, ichorlike liquid. Pioter flees if possible, but if cornered or captured, drops to his knees and begs for his life. From Pioter, the PCs can gain the same information as provided by the townsfolk, above. In addition, with at least three victories, Pioter admits that he was trying to drug the food to make the outsiders more susceptible to Anastasia’s Call. Because he runs the inn, the rest of the cult sees the guests as his responsibility, and he’s frightened by the fact that so many have resisted the Call. In addition, Pioter identifies both Alderman Ritter and Mother Sharallan as high-ranking members of the cult.

The drug is a unique poison that works only by ingestion. It makes a +7 attack against Will defense, and if it hits, it bestows a –2 penalty to Will defense for 1 hour.

Upstairs Rooms: Rooms are 2 silver a night. Meals (drugged) are provided free of charge. The rooms are dusty and plain. Most provide only a single window, a simple bed, a nightstand with candle, and a battered wardrobe. Rooms given to outsiders usually lack proper bolts on the doors. Most of the rooms are connected to rooms on either side, again lacking proper dead bolts. There are no private baths, each floor sharing a single facility located at the end of the hallway. These are equipped with ancient marble bowls, tin tubs, and decorated with musty paneling.

The Smooth Sailing Inn is often the last place overly-inquisitive visitors see of Ashenport. Once lodged here, the cultists either murder them, or kidnap them for sacrifice to the Black Queen.

If the PCs open a wardrobe in their room, they discover a message written on the inside of the door:

"GET OUT OF ASHENPORT STOP YOU KNOW TOO MUCH STOP"

Escape from the upstairs room is possible. Northwest and southwest are slant-roofed bri

Call of the Deep, First Night

Roughly 2 hours before dawn, regardless of whether the PCs are awake or asleep, read or paraphrase the following.

Slowly, gradually, a new sound penetrates the pounding of the rain and the howling of the winds. Barely audible at first, it resolves itself into an alien, high‑pitched keening. It resounds with loss, with sadness—the lament of a mother who has lost her children or of the sailor stranded far from home. It echoes from over the waves and grows ever louder until the storm has receded into the background. It fills your ears, insinuates itself through your mind and your soul, until you can think and dream of almost nothing else. It is not beautiful. It is not comforting. And yet you find yourself overcome with an almost irresistible urge to follow.

At this point, everyone in Ashenport who is not a worshiper of Anastasia must attempt a save vs magic of 13. Those who fail are considered as though they were under a Trance spell and compelled to move toward the sea immediately by the most direct route. They move at a standard walking pace, but do not deviate, and they can overcome obstacles in their way (such as doors). They do not fight to defend themselves, but simply attempt to move around any foes to reach the ocean. Once there, they walk into the thrashing tide and allow themselves to drown. (Assume that, between rising from their bed, leaving their rooms, and finding their way through the streets at a steady pace, it takes 1D4+4 minutes for any given individual to travel from the Smooth Sailing to a watery death.)

Anyone who takes damage is entitled to a new save to throw off the Call and defend themselves. The Call ends 10 minutes after it begins, fading as gradually as it appeared. Once someone successfully saves, she is immune to that particular Call, but not future ones. (The Call is a mind‑affecting compulsion.)

Obviously, the players roll their own saving throws, but what of the NPCs? You can roll all nineteen saves, but this can be time‑consuming. If you’d rather go with a more narrative‑based approach, simply assume that, on this first night, half of the warriors succumb to the Call of the Deep, but that Matthias, Terza, and Jandal successfully save.

Precisely what happens next depends on the actions of the PCs. Thankfully, the Call wakes even those who successfully save, so they are in a position to stop others from drowning themselves. Presumably, the PCs first focus on saving any of their fellow party members who succumbed, but they’re (hopefully) decent enough to also stop some of the guards, even though it’s unlikely they can save all of them. PCs have several options for stopping those intent on drowning themselves, from holding them in place (via grappling or spells such as hold person or entangle), to incapacitating them (via nonlethal damage or spells such as sleep), to simply hitting them until they snap out of it. Terza and Jandal, and those guards who did not succumb, take similar steps to save their own companions, but Matthias remains hidden in his room.

If you don’t wish to roll the fate of each and every guard who has succumbed to the Call, assume that half of those who succumbed, and whom the PCs did not themselves save, succeed in drowning themselves, while the others are stopped.

Once the Call ceases, the surviving visitors to Ashenport are in a panic and may turn to the PCs for guidance.

Troubleshooting: Although unlikely, it’s just possible that all the PCs fail their saves. If this happens, Terza or one of her guards attempts to stop them from leaving the inn, hopefully snapping one or more of them out of it in time to save the others.

Ad Hoc Experience: For each NPC the PCs actively save from drowning, award experience.

The other guests of the Smooth Sailing are only too happy to tell the PCs exactly what they experienced. They’re frightened and are looking for anyone and everything to protect them. Terza offers the PCs 1,500 gp if they will ensure her safety and that of her people, plus find out what’s going on. Jandal throws in 500 gp of his own. Matthias insists that the PCs protect him as well, but offers no coin.

2. The Bountiful Tide General Store

If the PCs need to acquire supplies or tools while in Ashenport, the Bountiful Tide is the place to go.

There’s little to differentiate this building from the other surrounding shops, save that the walls are meticulously whitewashed (or at least they were meticulous before the heavy rains). Above the door hangs a painting of a beautiful shoreline, with the words “A Bountiful Tide” etched above it in gold paint.

Inside the shop is a maze of crowded aisles holding items of every description, with goods divided (very roughly) into categories. For instance, ropes and pitons can be found in the aisle marked “exploring,” while rations and salt can be found in “foodstuffs.”Also included are tools, nails curios, small fireworks, toys, stationery, supplies, and households. Liquor is sold from the back room, to townsfolk and visitors alike. Everything here costs 110% of the prices. The shop sells no weapons or armor.

Lena (Miscreant evil female human commoner level 2): Lena is an old woman, with iron-gray hair and a pronounced limp. She approaches customers with a huge smile, constantly calling them “dear” and “sweetie” and similar terms. If her attitude is improved to indifferent or better, she’ll drop her prices to match those of the standard.

Her husband, Waite, is a different story. Waite looks much older than he is---he has had a long and suffering life. Under most circumstances he doesn't talk much with strangers; he fears the wrath of the cult. Withdrawn, he barely acknowledges customers, and is often found staring at a small tarnished locket containing an old picture of a pretty, young woman---a long lost love.

3. Blacksmith

If the PCs intended to commission any work from the town blacksmith, they’re out of luck.

The anvil, the wall of hammers and tongs, and the heavy furnace clearly mark this shop as that of a blacksmith. You see nobody inside, however, nor any tools or weapons hanging on racks for sale.

In point of fact, Ashenport’s blacksmith has spent several weeks in preparation for this time of year, ensuring that the cultists have weapons for dealing with anyone who proves resistant to the Call of the Deep. When the PCs arrive, he is out amongst the populace, delivering weapons to those equipped to use them. He has no intention of returning to work until after the low tide. Any PCs with the appropriate skills (and the willingness to trespass) can make use of his forge.

4. Ash Grove

Here, in the center of town, a densely thick copse of trees grows, and all of the trees seem to be drooping and weeping in the heavy rains. A full 75 feet across, the grove is far too healthy and far too well tended to be mere chance. Clearly, this grove is something the people of Ashenport take very seriously.

Indeed, if the PCs ask any of the natives about the grove, they learn that it has stood as long as Ashenport itself. The trees almost died a while back, but since then have recovered and thrive as fully as Ashenport itself.

Any PCs who decides to push through to the rough center of the grove may make a DC 22 Search check. If the check succeeds, the character discovers a small sculpture of ____, now overgrown and defaced with edged weapons.

Any native of Ashenport who can be made at least friendly acknowledges the presence of the sculpture, but claims “It’s been almost completely forgotten. I think the damage was done a generation or more back, when the town was suffering and the people needed to vent their frustrations.”

The damage was actually done as part of the town’s shift to the worship of Anastasia, of course, but nobody’s going to admit that.

The PCs’ first combat in Ashenport occurs here, on the morning after the first Call. The first time the PCs pass near Ash Grove on this first morning, they are attacked by a small cadre of fanatical cultists too impatient to wait and see if the strangers will succumb to the next Call.

The PCs might question the cultists. If they can be intimidated or magically compelled into cooperating, the cultists can provide the same information as the citizens, presented below. In addition, if made friendly or helpful, they admit that they sought to kill the PCs because they not only withstood Call of the Deep, but also (presumably) stopped others from sacrificing themselves.

5. The Town Hall: This is the center of government—such as it is—in Ashenport.

This large stone building, one of the tallest in Ashenport, can only be the seat of government. Most of its windows are dark, but lantern light shines through a few, forming peeping eyes in the building’s façade and suggests that business continues even in this weather.

While large for Ashenport, this certainly isn’t the monolithic governing body that might be found in larger communities. It boasts three stories and several dozen offices, but most are either unused or are occupied by simple clerks recording things like the day’s catch as reported by the town’s fisherfolk.

If the PCs can talk their way past the clerks to see either the alderman or the sheriff on the first evening, they find Ritter polite but distant, and Kaern rude and belligerent.

Both request that, unless the PCs have some sort of emergency, they wait a few days for the rains to cease and the trade fair to start before speaking with the town’s officials. If the PCs insist on speaking to Ritter about past disappearances, his voice grows quiet, and he whispers “Yes, we’ve had problems in our town, but I cannot speak about them here and now. I’ll send someone to fetch you tomorrow, and we’ll speak more openly.” This is a ruse to get the PCs out; Ritter assumes they won’t be any problem after they hear Dagon’s Call. The PCs may suspect that he’s not being entirely truthful, but he’ll say no more here and now.

Alderman Ritter (Aberrant male human adept 3): Ritter is Ashenport’s alderman (essentially the mayor). He is a jovial-seeming man, slightly overweight, with immaculately coifed blond hair.

Sheriff Kaern (Aberrant male human warrior 3): Kaern is the perfect stereotype of the power-hungry small-town sheriff. He’s a bully who enjoys throwing his weight around and trying to intimidate outsiders. He stands almost six-and-a-half feet tall, and his bristly brown hair and beard make him look quite bearlike. If the characters are captured, he may visit their cells with a wooden baton to exercise some form of brutality, it is only when the characters are laying on the floor, that he will weary of the sport and leave.

Clerks (Diabolic, Aberrant and Miscrent male and female human expert 2).

All are of evil alignments, but surprisingly polite, in a gruff and threatening sort of way.  Obeying the sheriff's requests will meet with courteous treatment from him and his men. They will try to answer any questions the best he can. They will name the town. Explain that the majority of the people are away for a religious ceremony, or out at sea or harvesting crops, or similar special event, but that they'll be back the next morning. Depending on the situation and on the visitors, he will either try to encourage them to be on their way, or will invite them to stay, booking them rooms, at reasonable prices, at the hotel near his office.

Holding Cells

This squat building is made of a dull, filthy stone. Only a single heavy door provides ingress, and all the windows boast rusty iron bars. Although it has largely faded, blurred by many years and the overpowering scents of ocean, rain, and fish, the tang of human misery still clings to the small structure.

There’s not much crime in Ashenport, particularly since the entire town converted to a single faith, but these cells remain from the days where things were not so peaceful (like the temporary holding of outsiders).

This building is nothing more than a single open “office,” behind which runs a hall with half a dozen cells. One guard is on duty here at all times, increased to four when any of the cells are occupied.

1 or 4 prison guards (Miscrent male and female human warrior 3).

There’s little chance the PCs will bother with this area, but if they happen to discover it any time after the first dawn, they find it abandoned, and the keys are still in the desk. If they choose to use it as such, it makes a good place to leave any enemies they take alive.

If the characters are captured, they may be held here and escape in a number of possible ways, including:

• • If all else fails, simply have black hoods thrown over the heads of the PCs, and have then taken to the docks, where they are placed onto a small rowboat. After some time, their bonds are removed, and they are pushed roughly out of the boat and onto the ground. "Have fun!" the guards say, laughing. Pulling off their hoods, they find themselves far out to sea on top of a reef.

7. The Docks

The docks areas is defined as that area lying between Water Street on the west, and the stone breakwater offshore. Included in this area are the several rotting docks jutting into the harbor north and south of the mouth, and the abandoned warehouses dating back several centuries, most of them falling into ruin. In some places along the grassy shore one finds the jagged remains of fallen buildings.

In better weather, this is the heart and soul of Ashenport’s economy. In the white-capped waves whipped up by the stormy winds, it’s almost impossible to make out the sequence of small wooden jetties. Over half a dozen of them stretch out along the coast. Where once proud ships birthed, there are now only a few small fishing boats are tied tightly to them, rising and rocking with the waves like drunken winos, threatening to tip completely over. Others, particularly those found south of the mouth, have long-ago collapsed into the water. These wharves once wore the names of their proud owners, but now are forgotten by all but a few.

Out in the harbor, the crumbling stone breakwater still protects the harbor from the fierce tide, the remains of a shattered stone lighthouse standing on the breakwater’s far tip. The harbor itself is choked with sand from the mouth, leaving the water no deeper than seven or eight feet in most places and creating a sandy tongue dotted with the shanties of fishermen.

Other than the occasional fisherman running out to double-check the status of his boat, the docks remain empty. Along the sandy beaches harbor live fishermen of the poorest sort. Their nets, lobster-pots, dories and dilapidated shanties mark the shores, piles of fish bones and spent campfires attesting to their lifestyles. They fish by day, either off the breakwater, or setting out to sea in their small boats. There are perhaps a dozen fishermen living here. The cultist fishermen act unfriendly and are not prone to talking, especially while engaged in fishing. Most carry a knife of some kind.

The stone breakwater is a long stone wall, fifteen feet wide, extending from the sandy pit of land just northeast of town out into the harbor. Sandy deposits have built up on the inside of the breakwater, forming a small beach now lined with rude shacks. The mud here is thick, and a few people come wading through it regularly, searching for crabs, even dead fish, to supplement their meager supplies of food.

The beach extends nearly a half a mile in either direction, possibly more. It is flanked by towering, black cliffs on either side, hemmed in by the ocean. 

At the southern tip of the breakwater stands the remains of an old lighthouse, now little more than a jumbled pile of stones. The original structure was nearly sixty feet tall, and very broad, nearly twenty feet in diameter. The lighthouse was destroyed by a freak storm, Paul Garrison, killing its keeper, whose body was never found. Anyone picking through the fallen stones may discover a piece of human skull or thigh bone. A little more digging produces further bone fragments, but never enough to positively identify the victim.

Cool night brushes loose tendrils of hair against your cheek as you make your way along the darkened beach. Glancing at the night sky, you see a pinched moon hanging chill and draped in thin, cobwebby clouds. On your right the surf crashes and bleeds away, crashes and bleeds away, each time sounding closer, a giant fist pounding towards you, claiming handfuls of sand with every blow.

The coastline slopes upward toward the north, becoming a low cliff-face rather than a beachfront by the time it reaches area 12.

Dock Encounters:

1. The men unloading the boxes have stooped postures, and wide, staring eyes. If they try investigating, they can try sneaking. If they succeed they can search a crate for its contents. If they fail, the men attack.

2. Your footsteps on the wooden dock are echoed by splashing noises below that keep pace with you. Roll a Save vs Horror Factor of 7.

3. A crate bobs by the dock. The PCs can try to pull it from the water and acquire a common item.

4. A horrific stench draws your attention to the body of some bizarre marine creature, rotting on the edge of the docks. As you move towards it, an uneasy feeling grows in the pit of your stomach, as though you are meddling with something best left alone.

Roll to see which monster it is: (1) Hermiker, (2) Kaishin Muba, (3) Anguillian, (4) (Crab Monster), 5. (Octopus monster) 6. (Biped tentacle beast)

Roll to Save vs the Creature’s horror factor. If you pass, lose 1 Sanity. If you fail, lose 2 Sanity. In either event, if you are not reduced to 0 Sanity, you find something clutched in its webbed hands. The PC acquires one unique item.

5. A load of cargo, precariously balanced on the edge of the dock, goes into the river with a splash. If you dive in and try to retrieve it, a monster appears, and the PCs suffer underwater penalties.

Roll to see which monster it is:

1. Hermiker.

2. Kaishin Muba

3. Anguillian

4. (Crab Monster)

5. (Octopus monster)

6. (Biped tentacle beast)

If they evade or defeat the monster, you may acquire 2 Common Items.

6% A young man is anxiously trying to arrange passage out of town. Upon questioning him, he admits to horrific and revealing dreams of an impending doom.

7% As you look out across the waves, you feel strangely compelled to throw yourself into the ocean's watery embrace.

8% Rising from the watery depths, the corpse of two victims float to the surface, their faces and chests ripped to shreds by webbed, taloned hands.

9% Rotten food in a shipping crate has attracted a multitude of maggots. Under the repulsive feast, you see a wad of cash.

10% Sitting by the dock, you freeze in silent horror as something slowly rises from the water. You cannot make out what it is, but judging by the number of stars it blots out with its bulk, it is considerably bigger than a whale. After an eternity, it slowly sinks beneath the waves once more. Lose 1 Sanity.

11% Staring out across the placid waters, you look at the stars reflected in their depths and let the soft sound of the waves comfort you. You regain sanity.

12% This area has always smelled foul, but today something in the water smells absolutely noxious.

13% Walking along the dock you see something floating in the water near the edge of the dock. You reach for it - make a Luck (-1) check. If you pass, you dredge up something useful. Draw 1 Common Item. If you fail, you pull to the surface the tentacle that immediately wraps around your neck and drags you under the water and out to sea. Lose 1 Sanity and 3 Stamina before you break free.

14% You bump into Abner Weems, the local drunk. Leaning on your shoulder, he cries as he tells you how his wife and daughter were taken away by a black, three-eyed creature one night. He then babbles for a while, talking about ways to fight such monsters.

15% You notice a piece of wood floating in the water; carved into it is the name of a ship long since sunk. As you touch it, visions of the drowning passengers' last moments of life flood through your mind.

16% You stare into the river, contemplating its currents and depths. Make a Luck (+0) check. If you pass, you realize that time, fate, all of reality, are like a river; take the Visions card. If you fail, a pair of dock workers knock you into the river as a lark.

17% Two corpses wash ashore. The fishermen who find them do not pause to speculate on what made the terrible marks on the corpses, or what sight caused the frozen grimaces of absolute terror on the remains of the corpses’ faces, but instead wisely weight them down and send them back to the sea. 

18% You were about to leave when you see it. About two-hundred feet from the shore, half-buried in the mud are bones. Human bones. The yellowed staves of a ribcage. The jutting broomstick of a femur. The jawless grin of a skull.  A black sand spider casually leaves an eye socket and goes on its way. The body might have gone unnoticed. The crabs, however, were not so careless of its presence. They had come to the corpse like pilgrims, sidling over its mounds, crawling into his clothes, into his mouth, into his belly cavity, to have every edible shred of him. His bones have gone into the mud.

19% Standing at the docks, gazing out at the water, the storm clouds swallowing the horizon and the great dark expanse spread out below you, you feel the smallness of humanity in the face of a universe that is older and vaster and more full of life than any can imagine, much less understand. You feel the awful terror of living and a sudden urge to jump. A moment passes and you feel nothing; only the sea-spray on your face, salty, cold and needle-fine.

“She’s gone down, that one,” it mutters. “She’s gone all the way down to the Great Mother and she won’t hear you in a hundred, hundred million years.”

8. Tannery

As might be imagined, this is where Ashenport’s citizens bring hides and skins to be tanned and worked

into leather goods. Even in the heavy rains and winds, the stench of tanning chemicals and dyes lingers heavy on the air, causing stomachs to turn and eyes to water. As with many other shops, the tannery is shut down for the duration of the storm (and the sacrifice). How- ever, once the PCs determine the nature of the shop, it's obvious that when it’s not storming and the winds are weaker, the stench of the tannery encompasses the Smooth Sailing Inn and Tavern. That makes the positioning of the inn a poor business choice, since it would drive business away during other times of the year.

The truth is that when they’re not busy sacrificing passersbys to Anastasia, the folk of Ashenport don’t want strangers lingering about.

9. The Mill

Although the grain mill is shut down due to the weather, it’s not entirely abandoned. This old wooden building contains little more than a heavy and ponderous grindstone and other milling equipment. Although you cannot initially see what power turns the stone, you can eventually hear the running of a small underground stream, barely audible over the rain. Not all the cultists of Anastasia are as patient as others. A small band has gathered together, prepared to take direct action against anyone who escapes the first Call. This group consists of two thuggish cultists and two mystic cultists. These NPCs attack the PCs on day two (see Part Two: Confusion, and Encounter AA: Ambush in Ashenport). When the PCs arrive in town, the four cultists are holed up here, discussing strategy and preparing weapons. If the PCs explore the mill this early, the cultists scatter, but if the PCs prove hostile or unwilling to let them leave, they attack.

If the PCs explore the mill any time after the first dawn, it’s empty except for a few sleeping bags and bits of refuse.

The Streets of Ashenport:

The streets feel hollow, ringing with the fading echoes of a town that has been stricken, had whimpered mightily, and has finally died.

Additional Encounters/Adventures:

These strange animals, some up to a foot long, are of numerous types resembling crabs, lobsters, and prehistoric trilobites. They are commonly found in areas harboring Requiax cities.

These creatures attack by silently creeping up on a potential victim, then hooking their claws or mouth parts into the victim's leg. The things hang on tenaciously with a STR of 9 until either forcibly pulled off or killed.

They are certainly ugly brutes, festooned with an unsortable battery of legs, and pincers, and miscellaneous appendages whose purpose the PCs cannot begin to fathom. A successful Biology or Natural History roll verifies that the things resemble no known species.

10. Home of Alderman Ritter

The finest house in all Ashenport is, unsurprisingly, inhabited by its highest citizen; a structure nearly as tall as the town hall, though not nearly so broad, boasts several peaked roofs and a number of gleaming windows. The entire property is surrounded by a wrought-iron fence. Alderman Ritter lives here, along with his wife, a butler, and several full-time guards.

11. The Light House

Before the lighthouse was built and even after, when the fog was bad, there had been lots of shipwrecks at Byron's Finger and there were always rumors that you could find sunken treasure in the deep waters below--if you didn't get smashed on the rocks first. Pretty much anyone who tried it got smashed, and according to legend, it was because Byron's Finger was cursed

12. The Coastal Caves

Until the lowest tide, this is a short (roughly 25-foot) cliff-face down to the ocean.

The Crooked House:

The road gets narrower and narrower still.

The house stands like a grim and untimely joke, perched on the high, sheer cliff, the salt grass and road ends. This ramshackle grotesquerie of boards gone the silver-gray of old oyster shells, the splinterskin walls with their broken windows and crooked shuttered, steep gables and turrets missing half their slate shingles, and there are places where the roof beams and struts show straight through the houses weathered hide. One black lightning rod still stands guard against the weather, a rusting garland of wrought iron filigree along the eaves, and the uppermost part of the chimney has collapsed in a red-green scatter of bricks gnawed back to soft clay by moss and the corrosive sea air. Thick weeds where there might once have been a lawn and flower beds, and the way the entire structure has begun to list perceptibly leaves you with the disconcerting impression that the house is cringing, or that it has actually begun to pull itself free of the earth and is preparing to crawl, inch by crumbling inch, away from the ocean.

Only an ugly, old house sitting forgotten atop the mountain.

You pick your way towards the house, past lupine and wild white roses and a patch of poppies the color of tangerines, three or four butterflies flitting from blossom to blossom, and there's a line of flagstones almost lost in the weeds. The stones lead straight to the house, though the weedy patch seems much wider than it did from the journey.

Five, seven, ten more steps, and the porch seems almost as far away as it did when you first arrived.

You glance up at the sun, directly overhead, and hot against your face, and you realize the wind has died. The blustery day has grown suddenly so still, and you can't hear the breakers anymore, either. Only the faint and oddly muted symphony of the gulls and insects.

Interior:

The interior is filled with an oily stench of rotting fish and the neglected smell of any very old and empty house. It is a barren, fish-stinking room, sun-bleached with peeling wallpaper strips. One tall arched window sits on the western wall, through which broken window panes the sunlight shines through.

And then they hear a sound, either inside the room with them, or very close to it; like the crisp sound of a ripe melon splitting open, and then the air smells even worse, like fish putrefying under a baking summer sun, beaches strewn with bloat fish-silver bodies as far as the eye can see, beaches littered with everything in the sea heaved up onto the shore, an inexplicable, abyssal vomit.

Something quivers the edge of vision, a fluttering darkness deeper than the long shadows in the room.

Any movement causes the thing on the ceiling to move quickly towards the sanctuary of a corner; all feathery, trembling gills and swimmerets, and its jointed lobster carapace almost as pale as toadstools, chitin soft and pale, and it scuttles backwards on raw and bleeding human hands. It drips and leaves a spattered trail of itself on the floor as it goes.

They can see a door now, the absolute blackness waiting in the hall through the doorway, and there’s laughter from that direction, a woman’s high, hysterical laugh, but so faint that it can’t possibly be coming from anywhere inside the house.

The laughter abruptly stops, and the thing on the ceiling clicks its needle teeth together. “I saw a something in the sky,” the ceiling crawler whispers from its corner, “No bigger than my fist.”

And the laughing begins again, seeping slyly up through the floorboards, through every crack in these moldering plaster walls.

And the room writhes and spins around the PCs like a kaleidoscope, that tumbling gyre of colored shards, remaking the world, and it won’t matter if there is anything for them to hold onto. Because they will still fall; no way not to fall with this void devouring even the morning, or the afternoon, whichever, even the colors of the day sliding down that slick gullet.

The Basement:

Far below the house, standing before a thing that had been a woman once, and part of it still resembles that lost humanity. The part that watches them with one eye, the desperate, hate-filled, pale-green eye that hasn’t been lost to the seething ivory crust of barnacles and sea lice that covers half its face. The woman on the great rock in the center of the phosphorescent pool, and then the sea rushes madly into the cavern, surges up and foams around the rusted chains and scales and all the squirming pink-white anemones sprouting from her thighs.

Alone, alone, all all alone.

The woman on the rock raises an arm, her ruined and shell-studded arm, and reaches across the pool towards them; her long fingers and the webbing grown between them

They lean out across the frothing pool, ice water wrapping itself around their ankles, filling their shoes, as they strain to take the woman’s hand. Straining to reach while the jealous sea rises and falls, rises and falls, threatening them with the bottomless voices of cachalots and typhoons. But the distance between their fingertips doubles, triples, origami space unfolding itself, and the woman’s lips move silently, yellow teeth and pleading, gill-slit lips as mute as the cavern walls.

 —murdered his daughter, sacrificed her—

Nothing from those lips but the small and startled creatures nesting in her mouth, not words but a sudden flow of surprised and scuttling legs, the claws and twitching antennae, and a scream that rises from somewhere deeper than the chained woman’s throat, deeper than simple flesh, soulscream spilling out and swelling to fill the cave from wall to wall. This howl that is every moment that she’s spent down here, every damned and salt-raw hour made aural, and Julia feels it in her bones, in the silver amalgam fillings of her teeth.