Sic Pixie's Carrion Crown Adventure Path

Catch a wolf by it's tail ...

Grembor and Pringle advance on the doors of the Miller’s checking inside to see if there is anything else they may have missed. Strangely as they are peering into the dim interior three figures come bursting out; two Demon Wolves followed by another Lycan with an impressive set of goat horns on his head and burning red eyes. The party is somewhat distracted by the sword he is carrying which seems to burn with equally impressive red runes which would advertise to any sensible adventurer that this is in fact an eeeevil sword or at least an evil user of said sword. The bastard sword is held in one clawed hand while the other motions with a talon across his neck indicating to anyone who is watching that he intends to make these foolish smooth skins suffer at his claws before being brutally killed. This is Adimarus Ionacu the leader of the Demon Wolves and intending to be the Pack Leader for the whole of the Shudderwood which would cause ruin upon those non lycans living within.

The closest lycan pounces forward and again Pringle is in the forefront as the same lycan than opened his chest not 10 minutes ago is again swinging his wickedly sharp falchion in his direction. The sword hits but it’s only a glancing blow which makes Pringle breathe a huge sigh of relief even though his upper arm is bleeding somewhat; the other Demon Wolf sets it’s evil gaze upon Nashkar who apparently looks tasty to some creatures (I mean some people juggle geese). Loping up to the stocky dwarf its falchion whips out and rings out on his armor bruising the poor unfortunate dwarf as he is tossed about within.

Pringle remembering what happened last time backpedals and hides behind Sayuri; he is breathing heavily and clutching his injured arm while glaring at the Demon Wolf that cut him. Grembor steps back away from the wolf and unleashes a trio of arrows his way; two hit but cause minor damage. Sayuri with a cowering Pringle behind her steps to the side and unleashes a powerful lightning bolt that rips through one of the Demon Wolves and also catches Adimarus Ionacu a glancing blow. The Demon Wolf is not impressed as its muscles lock up momentarily sending it to the floor in agony; it climbs back to it’s feet it’s fur smoking gently and the smell of burnt fur drifting on the light breeze. Adimarus just looks at Sayuri before stepping up to Grembor and unleashes a torrent of heavy blows upon him following up with a bite which catches his forearm. Grembor staggers under the onslaught having been cut in a couple of places and his arm nipped by his teeth. Zordlan steps up next to Nashkar and tackles the Damon wolf assaulting him; he swings his silver scimitar and narrowly missed severing Nashkar’s head as he misses his target. Good thing Nashkar is a dwarf … Nashkar steps back a pace and channels energy healing up Pringle, Grembor and himself some.

The two Demon wolves attack one targeting Zordlan the other stepping up to Grembor; The one attacking Zordlan seems to be having trouble hitting him while the one on Grembor is having no such trouble and gives him a vicious cut along his cheek; narrowly missing his eye; this starts bleeding profusely. Thankfully the bite misses its target and the teeth snap shut a hair from his face. Grembor responds in kind and stepping back again fires off some more arrows his way again scoring some minor hits; Pringle casts a spell and fires off several force missiles which also impact upon the Demon Wolf before Grembor causing it to growl menacingly his way as blood trickles down its chin from a stray impacting missile.

There is the sound of creaking bones and leather as a dozen skeletons round the corner behind the party; these skeletons are all aflame with a forge fire burning in the chest cavity; their weapons are glowing a happy cherry colour which will do nothing for their temper but will dissuade anyone from getting close.

DM Note: I had one of the players roll for which random patrol turned up. They rolled really low

Sayuri casts again and sends another lightning bolt ripping through the pair of Lycans; the first Demon Wolf on Grembor is hit with a glancing blow which is sufficient to cause it to collapse on the ground its insides bubbling away merrily as the smell of burnt fur causing eyes to water; the bolt continues onwards and strikes Adimarus in the chest locking up his frame for an instant before it passes and he is left with a smoking char patch on his breastplate and an evil look in Sayuri’s direction. Grembor however receives the brunt of his ire as the bastard sword is swung in a quick arc the sword burning with dark energies as the Antipaladin attempts to smite his opponent. The blow misses and the dark energies dissipate; the follow up sword blow also misses its mark as does the snapping jaws. Grembor is exceedingly happy at the fate he just missed however little does Adimarus know that smiting good on this opponent would not have made the slightest bit of difference.

Zordlan again flails about ineffectively at his Demon Wolf opponent his scimitar flashing prettily in the sunlight; grinning the Demon wolf bares its teeth and makes several obscene gestures implying suggestions upon Zordlans manhood or lack thereof. Nashkar charges the skeletons and boldly presents the lead skeleton with his holy symbol as he calls out to the Sun god who directs a portion of his power through the holy dwarf. His symbol blazes into light and all but the three trailing skeletons disintegrate in bursts of fire which catches Nashkar unawares singeing his eyebrows and beard.

The single remaining Demon Wolf slashes Zordlan across his chest but the sword only rattles his armor the bite snaps again on thin air. Grembor knowing his luck is just about ran out considering the misses last time retreats to Pringle leaving Adimarus alone; Pringle looking at Grembor hiding behind him fires off a series of force missiles which dissipate before hitting their target unable to overcome his spell resistance. Sayuri running to one side targets the werewolf attacking Zordlan and Adimarus fires off a third lightning bolt. It hammers into the Demon Wolf on Zordlan practically knocking it from its feet and continues onwards and gives Adimarus a glancing blow to his thigh which causes him to stagger; Turning and seeing the path to Sayuri is blocked by his own lupine associate with a mighty roar he charges Zordlan with a massive blow from his sword he launches Zordlan through the air where he lands 40 feet away only a short distance away from Nashkar. Looking down Nashkar can see a huge welt in the metal of Zordlan’s brestplate where Adimarus’s sword hit. Zordlan has the air knocked out of him and lies there wheezing for a few seconds his ribs shattered and blood starting to fill his lungs as blood bubbles from his nose and mouth with each breath.

Nashkar casts a short spell and reaching down closes many of Zordlan’s wounds; repairing the damage to his chest so that he will live to fight another few seconds. Zordlen gets back to his feet and advances towards source of his recent blood bubbling agony. The last remaining Demon Wolf leaps on Sayuri trying to cut her down thinking she would be easy pray as a sorcereress but to his surprise she is very difficult to hit and his falchion sweeps past her swiftly moving form and he teeth again snap shut on thin air.

Grembor unleashes a trio of arrows towards Adimarus of which a couple sink in causing minor damage and this is followed up with another casting of force missiles from Pringle who easily overcomes his resistance and this final spell is too much for the Demon Wolf Anti-paladin who coughs his last through blood smeared teeth and slowly topples to the ground with his demon patrons name on his lips as a curse upon those which killed him. The last of the skeletons and the last remaining werewolf is no match for them and these are quickly overcome and put down.

Initial assault upon the Whispering way

They quickly search the battlefield picking up anything they think is of value and then head into the Millers building; climbing the ladder to the top floor they find a rough map of the village made of scraps of metal and masonry. From the window they can see the tower across the village square.

They quickly come up with a plan of attack; they have a couple of building they are interested in checking out; one the obvious remains of the tower which after checking it out through a looking glass Grembor see’s several skeletal figures parading around on top with bows in hand and various other weapons available. The second building is just off to the side of the tower and is a solid building which one would assume would have been the armory.

They decide to bless each of the party with the ability to climb walls like a spider; Pringle who will remain in the Mill will fire off his last two remaining fireballs; one into the open door of the armory and the other to take out the skeletons on the tower roof. After this they scale the tower and take out whatever is left then head into the tower through the top and take it room by room.

As plans go it’s a good one; simple, easy to remember and actually effective. It goes without a hitch; the first fireball streaks from the Mill window and passes through the open door into the Armory detonating with the sound of things breaking; no sound of suffering though which was disappointing to some of the party. This is closely followed by another fireball incinerating the skeletal archers on the roof of the tower. They quickly scale the tower and take out the pair of remaining skeletons with no trouble.

Descending down the inside of the tower they soon find it’s empty apart from a single occupant; this is discovered when Sayuri wanders off round the corner all alone and comes face to face with someone unusual within a pavilion that has been erected within the run down building.

Assault upon the Whispering way continued. Or Pringle the popping stops.

This someone usual is a hooded and cowled figure leaning upon a wooden staff topped with a grinning skull with a strip of leather binding its jaw closed. His face is emaciated and drawn; his eyes burn with a strange inner red light and his lips are drawn back over his teeth in an evil grin of hate. This is Auren Vrood who they have been trailing since Ravengro and is the instigator of all their recent troubles.

Looking up he seems to recognize the form before him and he raises his taloned hands before him as he points at Sayuri in a threatening manner so Sayuri fires off a lightning bolt point blank into his evil looking face knocking him back as the lightning courses through his body. Regaining his feet his evil eyes blazing with power and thoughts of revenge; robes smoking from the impact of Sayuri’s spell he mutters several words of power which Sayuri does not understand while molding the air before him with his talons; the effects of which are soon readily apparent. A noxious green fog envelops her; seeping into her skin and stripping away her vitality; with a cough Sayuri feels her body being poisoned by the foul cloying cloud which extends back into the central room where the rest of the party are gathered alerting them to the presence of something that may be worth investigating. Grembor and Pringle shoot out the side attempting to approach from another angle as Grembor had already spied the Pavilion from the other side. Nashkar runs into the mist and suddenly feels the effects of the cloying smoke as it damages his health; Zordlan quickly follows with similar effects.

Sayuri who will not be outdone in the magical arts fires off a series of force missiles which impact upon an invisible shield which absorbs their power. Cursing she glares at the Necromancer who seems unaffected by her glower. He casts a quick spell and a glowing blue hand appears floating in the air before him and with a gesture two large crawling hands emerge from underneath the bed and approach Sayuri; each try grappling her but both miss. Grembor and Pringle make it most of the way to the side of the pavilion but the way is hampered by fallen rubble making the terrain treacherous. Nashkar hearing Sayuri’s shout about undead channels positive energy through his holy symbol and again become the focus of his god as light erupts around him. The two hands take some minor damage which they mostly ignore; Zordlan approaches the hands feeling his way through the mist as it drains away his health and appears on the other side; presented by the two crawling hands he pulls out his curved blade and hacks at one missing it.

Feeling confidant Sayuri starts casting unaware that the hands before her can see her; they strike out and one catches her in her stomach causing her to stumble over some of the precise wording of her spell which she looses control of and it dissipates. Auren Vrood casts as insidious spell into his spectral hand and it floats forward and touches Sayuri paralyzing her in place as she starts to smell as if she has been dead for a week or more. Grembor and Pringle make it to the side of the Pavilion and making a small hole in the fabric Grembor is able to see into the tent; Pringle close behind starts summoning some assistance. Nashkar stepping up attempts to dispel the spell but fails to unwrap the thin threads of the spell effecting her; Zordlan unleashes a surprising amount of damage upon one of the crawling hands severing it’s tenuous ties to life as it collapses and starts rotting at an accelerated pace which does not help with the aroma emanating from the stricken stinky Monk.

Sayuri stuck in place with fear in her eyes can do little but moan through rigid muscles as the crawling hand seems to be focusing upon her. Auren Vrood with an evil smile casts his most powerful spell now that everyone is in range; with a gesture and several guttural sounding words death walks among the party placing his mouth against each ear and whispering sweet cloying words of encouragement and promises of a safe and quiet place to lie down and rest. With the damage from the cloudkill spell draining their fortitude this is a truly evil spell; Sayuri and Zordlan hear the whispered words and while they are sorely tempted to comply they shake off the temptation with a supreme act of mental fortitude. Nashkar hardly even hears the words so immersed is he in the running litany of his god of life and sunlight; Grembor feels the cold of the grave pass him by as his lips turn a shade of blue before his heart again kicks into motion restoring life to his fragile form. Pringle however was never all that physically resilient and the tempting words beckon to him drawing him close and death wraps his heavy cloak around him and walks off the field with a new disciple in tow. Pringle drops to the floor in mid chant is face grey and eyes starting blankly at the ceiling as his soul is ripped from his body; Grembor looks on in shock as his friend is killed outright without even a mark on him. The rest of the party doesn’t actually know what happened but the scream of outrage from Grembor lets them know something has gone horribly wrong.

Cursing the evil Necromancer Grembor unleashes a trio of arrows from his bow having activated his fire arrows; they all miss their mark and impact upon the opposite wall; Nashkar attempts to dispel the magic on Sayuri again with no effect while Zordlan with a grin showing Auren Vrood what will happen to him cuts apart the last remaining crawling hand with two swift strikes which sever fingers. The hand collapses to the floor and moves no more.

Auren Vrood knowing he can’t stand toe to toe with the sword wielding maniac takes to the air and flies to the tower screaming “When next we meet, I shall spit your hearts upon the Gallowspire!” With this interesting promise he disappears round the tower where no-one but Grembor can see him who unleashes even more arrows in his direction all of which again miss their mark. Nashkar is finally successful in dispelling the insidious enchantment on the stinky Monkey and Sayuri returns to motion as the cloying smell recedes to everyone’s relief.

The evil Necromancer disappears and the party mill about for a little while. Grembor heads to Pringle to check his life signs hoping he is just unconscious. Pringle however is very dead; no pulse; body already cold and clammy to the touch and eyes holding no spark whatsoever. Grembor bows his head over the body briefly and a quiet sob escapes; this is quickly stifled however as a glowing green arrow appears from no-where and strikes him in the back. With a scream he spins around to find the attacker as the acid burns into his clothing and flesh; there is no obvious signs of movement though so his raised and drawn bow is not released. The rest of the group finally manages to gather around the location but they also can’t see anything of the mysterious attacker.

A few mysterious spells later which cause various amounts of damage; chill touch upon Sayuri, Ray of exhaustion which hits Nashkar; Ray of enfeeblement which misses Zordlan all cast using his rod of lesser silent spell; they finally manage to pin down some location as Nashkar casts a locate object pin pointing Auren Vrood’s staff and gets a location off in that direction he points with no actual idea how far in that direction. But as it’s pretty vertical to where he is standing it’s assumed it was close by. They all look but can see nothing to indicate anyone is there. Another spell hits Sayuri as the blue glowing hand turns black with flames as it gently caresses her face; she feels her life energy being sucked out of her and a tell tale stream of dark glittering energy floats through the air to a point just above Nashkar where it disappears. Everyone turns and fires in that general direction with several arrows and bolts seeming to bounce off something hanging there. Kat who suddenly appears wandering through the rubble (player is absent more often than not so his character only pops up when it can really help) she casts an awesomely powerful spell. (This spell is feared far and wide by all creatures everywhere; there are whole tomes dedicated to the avoidance of this very spell as it kills more than any other spell in existence.) Faerie Fire outlines the otherwise invisible Auren Vrood who screams in frustration as this one spell foils his carefully planned attack.

Nashkar follows with an invisibility purge which cancels out the invisibility spell while Sayuri greases his rod and staff sending them tumbling to the ground beneath him; then follows a few dispels which take out most of his protections including the Fly, Stoneskin and Improved Invisibility spells sending him crashing to the ground where he is pounced upon and cut, bashed, beaten, shot and otherwise turned from a very valid semi living threat to a non-animate object that used to resemble a threat.

Upon his demise they are all forced back as his lower jaw erupts into a shower of acid causing significant damage to his skull, jaw and chest rendering spells like speak with dead ineffective.

DM Note: This was a nasty fight, with Cloudkill lowering their fortitude saves and then circle of death which caused many hearts to flutter. Pringle was the only victim having rolled a 3 if I recall. Both Sayuri and Zordlan both managed to hit the DC exactly with their reduced saving throws while Nashkar made it by a long way (he hardly even noticed it). Grembor was a couple over but he had not been caught in the Cloudkill; an effective way to take out a party if they don’t all roll crazy high when they really need to.

Auren Vrood was very difficult to hit having had a few rounds to buff himself; the early warning of the fireball detonating above his head was a dead giveaway that an assault was on the cards. He had several layers of protection active including Mage Armor, Shield, Stoneskin, Protection from Good, Fly and False Life. Without his spells he was very vulnerable and fell in one short round (AC 13 and wizard hits). He did manage to get off all of his spells bar a couple so he lasted well. The party hobbled away with Pringle dead, Sayuri nearly died, Nashkar having lost 4 levels to an enervation, Nashkar, Zordlan and Sayuri all lost several points of Con. Everyone lost HP’s and everyone was shocked at Pringle’s death. The end of the combat the party were getting annoyed and Auren was running out of spells and was considering resorting to violence of the baser sort but Sayuri had greased his weapons and they lay on the ground underneath him. He was thinking of flying away but it was not in his nature to give up.

Heart in a Jar and an energy draining flurry. All makes for a fun filled evening.

They all rush to Pringle’s reclining form and swiftly examine him; he is however very dead having had his life force sucked out of his body. They gather his things and then wrap him in some canvas and then leave his body for later retrieval. They all go through the Pavilion searching for clues and gather up anything of any note from the corpse. They find several notes but it’s all in a code they have difficulty understanding now that their cryptographer has passed; they are sure it’s important though so they pack it along with everything else. The rest of the pavilion seems to be dedicated to the vivisection and painting of various small animals. Sayuri takes a close look at the extremely detailed paintings being done and feels the vomit surging up from her stomach. She manages to control herself though before it surfaces and turns away in disgust.

They also find a strange looking poem which is faintly disturbing. It’s written on soft and supple leather which feels strangely warm to the touch.

Upon the ashen pathways tread
Softly, as the whispered dead.
As mortal flesh doth rot and fail
To leech and maggot, ebbing frail.
Unhallowed words cannot be spoken,
With whispered oath, death lies broken.
Shed fear, shed life, shed pain, shed time,
Eternity seized shall soon be thine.
First spirit torn from Grave-Lady’s grasp
Be rent and sown as soured ash.
Soft the spiral song reverses,
Judgment lost; damnation surges.
Keeper of the damned’s soul take,
With packlord’s heart the beast shall wake
And flesh be wrought in disarray—
Stillborn cocoon, to blessed decay.
A hundred slain lie innocent,
Grind bone and marrow to cement.
Craft now a skull of splintered graves,
Unmake life, unmake the slave.
Where history churns dream to blister,
Necrophagous secrets whisper
Through chronicles of Raven’s tongue—
A legacy of fear unspun.
Blood spilt atop the Iron Thorn
Invokes that which cannot be born.
Arise the Tyrant now unbound,
Bearer of the Carrion Crown!

So that does not seem too ominous as the party look at each other; they pick up on the packlord’s heart; but apart from that it seems to be nonsense but will require more investigation later.

Healing up their many wounds but unable to heal the wound left by their deceased member they continue onwards. Unlocking the huge stone doorway to the tower from the inside is relatively easy; they then carefully approach the squat building adjacent to the tower. This is the armory; a well build and solid squat building that has stood the test of time. However the insides are mostly barren with only the racks remaining which once held many weapons. Peering into the darkness inside they are able to see a couple of humanoid figures lurking within but are unable to identify their true purpose or intentions. Grembor, Zordlan. Kat and Nashkar enter tentatively trying to identify the lurking figures. Figures which in turn bare teeth sharp suited to the tearing of flesh and claws with long nails fit for rending; their eyes glowing with a dim red glow with the putrid rot of decaying flesh filling the small space.

Getting closer they identify the creatures as Wight’s; a nasty form of undead which quite happily devours the life energy of any living creature. Four of them descend upon the party and most of these die very quickly. (Fireball from Pringle previously exploded in here and they all failed their saves bar one who as yet has not appeared) Zordlan takes one out with a blow from his curved blade; Gembor kills one with an arrow to its chest followed by another arrow piercing its glowing red orb the point of which exits it’s skull as it drops to the floor. Nashkar chops one apart with his axe as if felling a tree while Kat is the only one who misses her target. Striking back the Wight scores a nasty blow against Kat slamming its putrid fist into her stomach forcing the wind from her lungs and drawing her life energy from her body.

A lithe form drops to the ground before Grembor; her form wrapped in a tattered robe and brightly burning red eyes peering out from the desiccated remains of her face. She slams an open palmed strike to his face hoping to stun him but fails.

Zordlan turning round in surprise unleashes a couple of blows one of which misses; there is no response from the robed Wight as his blade scores a deep cut in her side. Grembor back pedaling as he felt the deep cold of death as his life was leached from his system; wondering if Pringle felt this very same feeling right before his life force was snuffed out. He unleashes a trio of arrows at the swiftly moving Wight recognizing that it moves very differently from the others. Kat attempts to strike down the Wight upon her but misses as Nashkar stumps around the empty weapon racks and unleashes an axe blow upon the newcomer which strikes wracking her body with electricity and a nasty axe wound to her chest. She turns her gaze upon them and sneers evilly as Nashkar recognizes this is no ordinary Wight but a Dread Wight; a wholly more powerful creature of undeath. Sayuri notices something in the way this newcomer moves as well but it does not fully coalesce till later so she fires off a brightly coloured ray from her finger which should have caused some damage had it hit.

The normal Wight tries hitting Kat again and catches a glancing blow on her shoulder again drawing out her energy; The Dread Wight looking around tries hitting Zordlan as he did the most damage to her but his armor foils her many attempts with her flurry of blows. The whole group gulps as her flying fists and feet bounce off his armor several times as Zordlan heaves his own sigh of relief.

Zordlan returns the favor however as his sword blows are easily evaded by the lithe Dread Wight Monk. Grembor fires off some more arrows which miss again; one of them seemingly plucked from the air by the Wight. Kat finally manages to deliver enough damage to the Wight she is fighting to send it tumbling to the floor a lot more dead than it was previously. Nashkar summons a healing spell to his hand and attempts to touch the vile creature pretending to life before him but his blue glowing hand fails to make contact and this action makes him the Dread Wight’s new greatest enemy. Sayuri tries another cantrip sending another glowing ray from her fingertip but this also misses impacting to no effect upon the dwarven armor of Nashkar.

Our friendly neighborhood Dread Wight Monk unleashes another flurry of fists and feet upon the Dwarf who is feeling a little put upon as a couple of them connect sending his head reeling as his life force is consumed by the undead monstrosity before him as her fists connect with his jaw leaving large purple welts there.

Frustrated Grembor misses several more times while Zordlan actually hits once opening up a slice along her neck which had she been mortal would have ended the fight there. Kat turns around and tries to hit the Dread Wight again without success as Nashkar finally manages to place his positively charged hand upon her side; she winces as the positive energy flows into her leaving devastation in its wake. She again unleashes a flurry of blows upon Nashkar one a powerful jab in his eye causing him immense distress while the other is just a foot to his armpit. Both pull out his life energy and Nashkar is feeling the pain as his life levels are getting dangerously low. However he should not be discouraged as Zordlan delivers a pair of solid blows; the second of which removes her head sending it rolling into the corner of the room.

Nashkar collapses onto the ground his heart beating weakly in his chest; life energy almost spent as the rest of the team explore the room and poke through the Dread Wight’s meager possessions. They do find a nice looking belt made of bronze disks each with a stylized figure upon them in various poses of death; the other interesting discovery is of a jar filled with a foul smelling liquid but within which is floating the preserved remains of a heart.

Promises to Keep

Following an animated discussion where Grembor was voting for hiding the heart Sayuri wins by having Zordlan dump the entire contents of the jar upon the floor and then picking up the heart and wrapping it in some cloth from the robes of the now plain dead Monk and giving it to Zordlan to carry. They then collect Pringles body from his storage place and stagger back to the Dyers shop which looks to be empty.

The group collapse for the night; they can hear the howls of wolves and clash of weapons resounding from around the small village through to the early hours of the morning; soon afterwards the door slams open and a troop of werewolves’ parade in. Thankfully these are the Princes wolves and Grembor who is on watch at this time heads down to discuss the evening with them.

The leader of this pack his nose twitching grins though bloody teeth at Grembor; “You have done well smooth skin; I smell much death upon you. You have what we came here for do you not?” Grembor with a nod passes over the packlord’s heart still wrapped in the cast off bit of robe nervous of what the werewolves’ will do now they have what they seek. Emboldened by the apparent lack of his blood splattered over the walls he lightly admonishes them for not helping out in the fight against the Demon Wolves. “Ahh but we did help; we never said we would be fighting alongside you; we were in the village fighting other Demon wolves. You would not want some more to descend upon your position while your fighting their master now would you?” Grembor has to agree as they outnumber him and the party is feeling decidedly weaker then usual. Still nervous about the wolves he ascends the rickety ladder to the loft and resumes his watch after assuring the party that all is indeed well.

The End of Broken moon, the start of Carrion Hill

Morning breaks and breakfast is a maudlin affair; Nashkar and Kat both seem to be less than they were previously while Sayuri, Grembor and Zordlan are feeling much better.

After a short discussion and the perusal of the maps they have they decide to head to Carrion Hill. They have no actual directive on where they need to go next and the name suggests this would be a good place to start. They also need someone to bring back Pringle if this is possible and to restock on some items.

DM Note: Here ends the Adventure Broken Moon; the party are feeling a little worse for wear having lost some levels to the draining effect of the Wight and also loosing Pringle. Both Kat and Nashkar permanently lost a level while Grembor made his save. The party have no actual idea where to go next as they were unable to decipher the documents in Auren Vrood’s pavilion (their master decipherer is after all dead) and they refused to go into the Inn as it was “haunted” (some adventurer’s) The party decided to head to Carrion Hill on their own and it’s only through happenchance that I have an adventure based there which I have adjusted for their level which also has the same name as the blot of a city called Carrion Hill or “the Wart” as it’s commonly known.

Interlude to Carrion Hill.

Several figures set out from the blasted remains of Feldgrau; leading the foray is Grembor who has a litter dragging behind “his” horse. (His horse he killed in a fit of frustration after it got spooked by a lightning bolt. This horse belonged to Pringle.) The litter contains the non moving corpse of Pringle being solemnly dragged behind. He is dressed in a dark shirt and leather pants; the observant would notice the occasional glint of metal at his throat from the Mithril shirt he is wearing beneath his cotton shirt. His forearms are encased in thick leather bracers to keep his shirt away from his bowstring and a dark cloak is wrapped around his shoulders to keep the wind and rain away. The wind often catches the cloak whipping it away from his leather gloved grasp but it is soon brought back under control.

Following closely behind is Sayuri on her own horse (she is of a more forgiving nature) she is also wrapped up tight against the wind and rain with her cloak held tightly against the foul weather; Her bright eyes are all you tend to see gazing out over the rolling hills their mis matched silvery gaze catching everything that moves.

Zordlan follows; his cloak is not held tightly as it whips around him in the gusts; his eyes never straying far from his ward before him. His horse guided by his strong legs leaving his hands free to carefully examine the various weapons he has on his person for any damage. They have been well used of late and he would not want them to break at a critical moment. His armor looks well used and there is a very evident crease along his breastplate where a very hard sword blow recently caused him problems. This will require some serious forge work.

The last in line is a dwarf; stumping along without a horse his short powerful legs trying vainly to keep up with the faster moving horses. He is soon left far behind the clatter of his armor however they catch on the wind occasionally followed by some curses in dwarven. His hand never strays far from his crackling battleaxe; his plate armor is finely polished but requires some attention as it’s taken a beating recently but it’s looking decidedly better than Zordlan’s. His shield is strapped to his back and its shining sun emblem would be welcome if it could peer for a moment through the heavy clouds overhead.

Kat is out scouting and is becoming increasingly distant from the group; she may be considering leaving soon. (we will have to see if the player re-surfaces or not.)

Thankfully for the group and especially Nashkar who following a long way behind there are no encounters on their trip. They make their way to the banks of the river across which is the small hillock where sits the Wart; its actual name being the city of Carrion Hill but the locals have a sense of humor; either that or a grim resignation to the truth of the matter.

Enter Carrion Hill commonly called "The Wart"

The City has several names but most commonly the wart or the boil or other such pleasant labels. It raises from the surrounding swamplands very much like an infected pimple, it’s head usually called the crown has the nicer buildings sometimes made of marble or other agreeable material while the slopes of the hill called the tangle has a mixture of baser materials and a high percentage of Middenstone buildings. The bottom of the hill practically all the buildings are made of middenstone and it’s probably this which causes the names as much as anything.

Middenstone is a mixture of several ingredients like brick stone, gravel, bone and a ground up local beetle called carrion roaches. This produces a sickeningly mauve material similar to a mix of adobe and concrete and can be formed into many shapes which harden when it dries. However when it dries it takes on a vivid violet hue which from a distance would make the hill seem to have an angry violet base with a paler crown.

Carrion Hill is also often called the city of 10,000 temples; while this is blatantly false there is certainly close to 200 temples and shines within the city. Many just a cupboard in someone’s house but still a shrine and someone’s holy place. However the grandest temple on the hill is the Ossuary Church which is a church dedicated to Pharasma.

The party is met at the banks of the river by a short balding fellow who seems to be constantly washing his admittedly dirty looking hands. Grinning a gap toothed smile that never reaches his eyes he enquires if they would like to cross on his barge; he gestures with one hand towards several logs which have been loosely held together and several large looking men lounging nearby before returning his hand to the dry washing. His eyes quickly scan the group counting horses and people and any obvious signs of wealth. Liking what he see’s he demands an outrageous price which is quickly accepted by the party and they are safely ferried to the other side of the river.

They travel up the road towards the main gate where they expect to be stopped by the guards; however these guards are not really paying that much attention being too interested in looking at their own feet and staying out of the incessant rain. However once they pass through into the city they are met with something they certainly did not expect. The city looks mostly abandoned; there are very few people actually in the streets even on the main thoroughfare which admittedly is only slightly wider than the wagons being pulled along it. Looking around they do however notice several windows have people staring out at them with frightened eyes.

Soon after passing through the city gates however they get some inkling that not all is right with this speck of a city as a town crier stutters into a cry. “Carrion Hill needs Heroes! Men of stout heart and bravery are asked to come to Crown Manor with all haste, there to receive a task worthy of their skill and talents and a reward of suitable magnificence. Make haste to Crown Manor! Make Haste!” The party looks at each other and wonder; who in their right mind would answer to such a desperate plea. Hope some gullible adventurers come along quickly to deal with this before it gets out of hand. They make their way to the top of the hill where the majority of the better temples reside and soon find their way to the local Desnan Temple.

Pringle the return .. apparently you just can't stop once you pop ...

Kat is left outside looking after the horses (she has nothing better to do apparently) as they all head inside. They all get the pleasant ring as they enter apart from Nashkar who looks about in wonderment as the temple comes alive with holy men and women come running. They enquire as to what they can do to help and they are answered by a gruff Grembor demanding they raise his friend Pringle from the dead. With apologetic smiles they say that they do not have the power here to return people from the grave and that they would have to go to the temple of Pharasma to request this. They give Grembor direction who turns around and heads straight back out into the rain to find this place and get his friend returned back to life.

The rest of the party (Sayuri, Zordlan and Nashkar all relax in the comfort of the temple each standing by the fire drying off their rain sodden and mud caked cloaks while chatting to the assembled clergy. They find out that something terrible has been happening in the city and several buildings have collapsed in the past few days. There has been a request for stout adventurers put out but as yet no-one has come forward in response to this. They each look at each other probably wondering why trouble always seems to follow them around and what would happen if they decided not to help out everyone who asks for it.

Meanwhile as they are standing in the dry temple being served good wine and food Grembor is making his way to the Ossuary which is hard to miss. Approaching the doors he finds them closed but sounds of a ceremony going on inside. Taking Pringles body from the litter he makes his way up the stairs and opens the door with his dirty boot allowing the wind to whip around the room sending the candles dancing. Noticing the on-going ceremony he finds somewhere to sit while propping Pringle up beside him and waits. Several minutes pass and finally an priest notices him and walks over to enquire at to his purpose here today.

Grembor advises that his friend is dead and he would like the clergy to do something about it. They offer to bury Pringle for an agreeable sum; they also can provide some mourners for a very reasonable price; some of them he is assured will cry and wail in a very convincing manner. Shaking his head he states that no he would like his friend brought back to life as his feet have a long pathway yet to walk upon in this life. The priest with an Ahhh of understanding enquires politely as to the gentleman’s monetary situation as these things take an obscene amount of money.

Grembor drags a sack in from off his horse and tips out several magical breastplates, bastard swords and falchions picked up from the werewolves and the priests. The priest somewhat taken aback quickly brings along the temples quartermaster who swiftly goes through the items. Setting aside many of the items he states that they could try bringing him back for all the breastplates and weapons and that they could have a slot next Tuesday for the ritual to take place. Grembor growls deep in his throat that sooner would indeed be better then later and he suggests that they see if they have a slot open this afternoon. Looking to his face and back at the dwindling treasure pile, they appropriate a couple more items and then grin saying that an opening has only just become available if he would like to bring along his friend …

Bearing the body of Pringle back into a room dedicated to the returning of wandering souls they place Pringle upon a bier which is surrounded by a silvery complex symbol upon the floor; there are several tall black candles placed around the body and each is lit; they each emit a different coloured flame sending weird shadows dancing around the room. A large stone alter replete with a horned skull and even more candles entwined with dark roses and small white flowers holds an impressive looking book with dark black pages and silvery blue writing.

Entering the room is a young many; probably no older than seventeen who walks up to the alter and turns a few pages of the ominous looking tome. “What’s the deceased’s name” he enquires towards Grembor who responds with “Pringle.” Nodding he turns back to the tome and with a wand fashioned from a cats vertebrae he starts reading aloud in a dark tongue which makes the skin crawl upon Grembor’s spine as if the wand the young man was holding was being run down his own back.

Pringle is not happy; he spent many years ignoring the obvious truth of the gods existence and instead dedicated his life to the pursuit of arcane knowledge. He never had any time of gods and silly religions and now he thinks to himself this was perhaps a mistake. After following the nice gentleman in the dark cloak he found himself in a long line of people; he stood in this line for what seemed like an eternity but he was finally brought before a huge being which seemed to be mainly comprised of light and a stern demeanor. Even though he could not see its eyes he knew they it gazed upon him and that it saw everything about him he would like to keep hidden. With a soul shattering word he was dismissed and one of many flunkies grabbed his insubstantial arm and drew him away to join another line. This line looked to be very long but it moved relatively quickly; he soon found himself at the front where he was helped up some macabre scaffolding to a wall where he was grabbed by a strange looking mason and cemented into the wall with only his face and one hand left poking out. He could feel the cement writhing around him fashioned from the souls of those less fortunate than himself while the other stones around him shifted and moaned in fear. Each soul in the wall cried out making the infinite Wailing Wall resound along it’s entire length; a length that Pringle could now sense and the realization that each and every soul within this wall was like him; a non believer. Each of them could sense him and the wall was ever growing. The scaffold was now what seemed to be miles away as a steady stream of souls were absorbed into the Wailing Wall.

Eternity seems to have passed and the face could feel himself loosing that which was him into the wall; on the brink of giving up and being absorbed; becoming nothing but a speck in the wall; his face only a suggestion of a face when he heard a call; a name; a name which seemed to be somehow familiar. In the distance was a bright light; even though he had no real eyes to see it as they had closed and sealed an age ago he could feel its presence; the heat of it warmed his face and the sudden realization that this was his name. His name was Pringle. “Pringle” he would have screamed it if his mouth had not sealed itself shut in the centuries he has been here; he could feel himself being prized loose of the cement which had held him for so long. His mouth was given shape again and something grabbed him by his one available hand and pulls; pulls so very hard he could feel himself tearing apart as he is ripped from the wall; he screamed in pain; pain of release and realization. He can still feel parts of him still embedded in the wall of lost souls; the Wailing Wall; the wall of the unbelievers as he is cast out into a bright and burning light he feels himself being consumed.

He feels cold; but he feels which is something he could not have said until now; there is stone beneath him and that is also cold. There is an unbelievable pain in his chest and he realizes that it is his heart beating again for the first time in a long time forcing the sluggish blood there to turn back into a liquid from its semi solid state. His head pounds as the blood again starts to circulate in his system; his arms and legs scream in agony as pins and needles flare in the extremities as the blood finds it’s way there; his eyes flutter open lanced by the bright light while a moan of pain and fear escapes his lips.

A young face looms over him and dark eyes sparkle with power. “You were a difficult one to find Pringle. Next time I suggest you find a patron to look after you as calling your soul back from the wall is a difficult thing.” With that the disturbing smiling face disappears and it’s replaced by a different one but a more familiar one as Grembor helps him to his shaky feet.

With a hug they depart the Temple having given their thanks and return through the rain to the Temple of Desna where Pringle is greeted back by the whole party. He however still feels cold and he can feel a part of him still in the wall and he knows he will never again be the same as he was previous to dying. Should he die again where now would his soul go?

Not a night to be out

They decide after some deliberation to find somewhere to sleep for the night as it’s miserable out and they have all been though a lot recently. They soon find an inn called The Sloppy Rune Inn and walk inside; each shaking the collected moisture from their cloaks they approach the bar and request rooms. The fat ugly owner eyes them up and asks how many will be sleeping and upon hearing there would be five of them asks for the vastly inflated price of ten gold pieces.

They are shown to two rooms; there is water dripping from the ceiling into a strategically placed chamber pot; the beds seem to have cloth filled mattresses supported by rope netting. Suffice to say they have stayed in better but then again it’s possibly better than sleeping outside. They all eat a watery broth with some surprisingly nice fresh bread while Pringle takes his to his room and sits scribing a spell into his book. They all retire to bed and spend a restless night suffering the drip, drip, drip of water, the hammering of rain the rumble of thunder along with the crack of lightning throughout the night. Several times they are rudely awaken as the building seems to shift in the wind or the thunder is so loud they all sit up straight trying to recall where they are.