Sic Pixie's Carrion Crown Adventure Path

Activating the Dusk Moth

Looking around the tower top they recall the information they have found in the lower levels regarding this. Apparently this is an alter of sorts to the Goddess Desna; going on the principle that it’s better to have a god in your camp they make the decision to do their best to clean up the shrine and see if they can re-consecrate it. They spend the remainder of the day removing bodies and scrubbing the tower clean with spells and other more mundane ways.

Come night they all sit in a circle on the tower top a faint radiance emanates from the menhirs atop the temple, almost like a refractive fog which emanates from the huge moth scribed in the tower top. Each of them attempts to activate the Dusk Moth using the communion scroll they found; they are finally rewarded as they all fall into a deep trance.

The party commune directly with Desna herself; the goddess thanks them for restoring and cleansing her temple and shows them a vision of the future. The party see themselves facing a black-robed necromancer wearing a bone breastplate as he stands before a ruined tower; fighting a terrifying, tentacled monster deep beneath the sea; confronting a beautiful female vampire spell caster in an underground chamber; and battling a decaying lich, blazing with arcane power, atop a high spire beneath dark, churning clouds.

They all wake one hour later as the radiant stones fade back to dull gray, and the last of the Dust Moth’s magic peters out. All of them look at each other in wonderment as they notice that the irises of their eyes have turned a pale silvery color, a visible and permanent sign of their experience. They then all scream in pain as a burning pain erupts from their hearts as if it is exploding and spreads up over their chest to their left shoulder and down their arm. Shuddering they regain their feet a few minutes later once the pain subsides and they inspect the site.

Each of them has an intricately scribed tattoo with a star knife centered over their hearts with blue flames rising from this up to their shoulder and running down their arms to their wrist. Within these flames are tiny butterflies or moths which seem to be dancing around a collection of stars. The burning pain is just a memory but they are hesitant to touch the tender feeling flesh; however being brave adventurers they do and they are rewarded with the knowledge that they have been granted a boon of minor healing once per day and they can if they all agree cause a once only effect that should help them in a magical conflict. They each feel the peace of the goddesses presence wash over them and then depart leaving behind a strong yearning for the feeling to persist.

Slowly they all get to their feet and examine each others tattoo’s with interest; they all look identical from what they can see. However they are all tired from their experience and decide to camp upon the tower tonight and head to the ruined town of Feldgrau early tomorrow morning.

Walking to Paradise ...

Grembor and Zordlan each take watches while the casters sleep and they awake refreshed and content; after a small breakfast they head down the tower again using the wand of spider climb. Alighting upon the floor they find with despair that their horses have been butchered by the werewolves while they were otherwise occupied; they will have to walk to the next town which is a good days walk just outside of the forest barring any other mode of transportation.

As they find their way to edge of the clearing they find a scene of blood and carnage; there are body parts strewn around a small clearing; several people have been ripped apart and some of their intestines and other less easy to identifiable items are hanging from the surrounding branches. They quickly reconnoiter the area and find this is the remains of Duristan’s hunting team; however they do not find Duristan which could bode well for the noble hunter. They do discover that each of the bodies has had their heart ripped from their chest with a taloned claw and they can find no scraps of heart in the clearing so it looks like they were either taken with them or eaten on the spot. The sheer amount of blood splattered body parts is difficult to register but they finally figure out that they were hit by surprise by many hybrid werewolves and that it happened several hours ago.

They start arraigning the bodies to prepare them for burial when they hear the sounds of several figures approaching along one of the trails. Weapons are readied and spells brought to mind as a group of Varasian travelers who look decidedly worse for wear slide into the clearing and fan out. Hands not far from weapons they are gruffly asked what their business is here. Bowing his head the leader of the band steps forward and introduces him self as Rhakis Szadro, leader of the Princes Wolves. At which the band twitch nervously as they have had just about enough of werewolves for a while. Spreading his hands wide to show his peaceful intentions Rhakis explains that he does not wish for a fight as he has seen and heard what has happened in the clearing and it seems getting in the way of this rag tag appearing band of adventurers is not good for one’s health. Asking what they are intending to do and why they are here Gembor responds stating that they are hunting down the Whispering Way and they are heading to the ghost town of Feldgrau; with a grin he is told that they are also hunting down the Whispering Way and that a truce of some sort may indeed be viable. Relaxation on both sides as grips are released on weapons and the matrix for the flesh devouring spell in mind are released … for now.

Sitting down in the gore splattered clearing Rhakis motions for them to do likewise and starts filling a pipe with pungent smelling weed; “you already know where to go and what needs doing, it seems you are a more resourceful team than appearances would suggest.” With a simple cantrip he lights the pipe and sits back pulling on the pipe till the smoke starts rising in an agreeable manner as his blue eyes scan the party. “I propose an alliance; simple we help you and you help us. We want the heart of the previous packlord and you want to stop the whispering way as we do. Unless you have a much quicker methods of travel other then your own two feet we will be in Feldgrau long before you.” Looking around the clearing at the cleanup work that’s progressing with the werewolves assistance. “These bodies have the stink of the Demon Wolves upon them; it seems they are the ones who massacred this group; they are on also on their way to the ghost town to reclaim the heart. Should their leader Adimarus Ionacu become packlord of the Shudderwood it would not bode well for the non lycanthrope denizens of the forest and its surrounding area.” Fishing in his bag he pulls out several fetishes which he tosses their way. These will grant you assistance with my brethren who are tracking the Demon wolves should you meet them; don’t abuse the rare privilege I am granting you.”

With this he taps out his pipe in the palm of his hand, rubbing the embers together till fully extinguished before standing. “So you killed Mathus Mordrinacht; congratulation on that; he was getting quite rabid with the Whispering Way’s influence. Where did you say you left the body?” With these direction in mind he walks away with a friendly wave with the remaining werewolves following close behind. The clearing is left with several bodies arraigned in a better pose than they were found. The party gather their things and after some washing to remove the blood and gore from themselves they head off to the closest town.

It seems the luck of the goddess is with them as they come across nothing of any note on their trip out of the forest; They do however meet several traders coming the other way which they advise to turn around and head back to town as most of them head their advise they have some one other than each other to talk to as they walk. Pringle has the worst time of it on the forced march as he is the most unused to rigorous activity and his body is complaining in many small ways. He finally gives in and they request he hitch a ride on one of the caravans they are walking with which is granted.

Sayuri gets the wrong attention ...

As it’s starting to get dark as they reach the town of Chastel they thank the caravan drivers and head in to find somewhere to sleep the night away. The first place they come across is called the Saucy Wench and they decide to try this one despite the peeling paint and general run down appearance. Walking in they are met with a raucous group of river sailors and other less savory characters; it must be a good place as all the tables are taken so they approach the bar and Sayuri requests a room off the fat and dirty barkeep who seems to be pushing some liquid round the bar with a dirty cloth which in no way is cleaning anything.

Looking Sayuri up and down and his eyes definitely focused on the torn fabric barely holding together and keeping her looking modest. Grinning he grunts she can stay in his room for free; looking up he notices the rest of the party for the first time and gulps to see Kat standing behind Sayuri with her arms crossed and her hands less than an inch from two worn and very serviceable weapons. Her expression is one of someone less than happy and with a gulp he amends his last statement asking how many rooms they would like while trying to keep his eyes anywhere but Sayuri’s chest. They agree to three rooms and with food and they all retire upstairs apart from Kat who has not yet moved. Stepping up to the counter her steel eyed gaze never moving she demands a bottle of wine which the now stuttering barkeep gets for her (after testing her coin is good) and places it on the bar. Kat takes the bottle to her room much to the relief of the barkeep.

The night passes in blissful slumber after the bar finally quits at roughly 3am.

Shopping trip .. Exciting adventures

Upon waking the whole party excluding Grembor decides it’s a good day to have a bath so they head to the bathhouse attached to the tavern. As it’s sitting on the banks of the river water is not a problem as there is a clever heating system which pipes hot water to individual tubs which are screened off from each other. Everyone lets the trials of the last several days wash away into the now very dirty water; after a rinse with cleaner water they feel ready to face the world and after dressing and grabbing some breakfast they head out to go shopping.

The things foremost in mind are getting new clothing; buying silver weapons and getting the possibility of the curse of Lycanthropy removed. Obviously being a girl Sayuri heads clothes shopping first as her current attire is looking seriously worn and bedraggled. The first clothing shop she enters however does not really carry her line of clothing being more directed at servicing those female dock workers, who put the vice into service. Leaving here she is directed to an establishment that provides clothing for the intrepid adventurer and she purchases several outfits for herself and Zordlan. Taking one set to the changing rooms she quickly changes out of her old outfit and leaves the shop wearing her new. She will be picking up her other outfits later today when they have been adjusted.

Kat on the other hand finds a gnomish smith close to the riverbank and commissions a new silver sword along with a nice matching long knife while Zordlan also acquires a silver scimitar. Pringle picks up some silver bolts for his crossbow; Kat’s sword will be ready later that day as she is willing to pay for its swift creation.

Exiting the smithy they notice Sayuri further down the street who has just stepped out of the clothing shop; they hurry to meet her and while Sayuri and Zordlan are discussing matters outside Kat enters and after some money changes hands some itching powder will be introduced to one of Sayuri’s outfits. Kat while not interested in the clothing lines due to being a dirty leather wearing druid does pick up a few assorted items.

Sayuri none the wiser to Kat’s prank takes a walk down the muddy street looking for the largest temple in the area. After getting some directions from some of the locals who are more than interested in helping the pretty Monk she gets directed to Temple Street; rounding the corner she finds an impressive looking building and heads there.

However upon entering she finds a bar selling beer and other items; shaking her head at the depravity of a bar owner setting up an establishment in a temple she heads on to the next temple. This is dedicated to the goddess of Nature so she gives that one a miss as she has had way too much nature recently having washed a large amount of nature from herself that very morning; finding a more traditional temple dedicated to Desna close by she enters to the sound of the Alter ringing like a bell. Not associating this with anything out of the ordinary she is surprised when a flurry of robed figures approach her and bid her welcome. The head priest is quickly summoned and Sayuri is soon sitting in a comfortable room with the local high priest.

Broaching the delicate subject of disease removal; this is received favorably until the actual disease is identified as Lycanthropy. With sadness she is informed that the local clergy in any of the temples in this town is unable to cure such a disease; the cure requires a certain amount of power and no-one he knows of locally has this power. However do not despair as the city of Ardal is less than a days ride on a fast horse and he can get word sent there to make sure the high priest there is available. He travels a lot so it’s best to book an appointment but I am sure he will make himself available for one such as you. Sayuri looks confused at the special treatment but is happy for it nevertheless and thanking the priest she enquires on a good location for buying a fast horse. She is directed to the market area where such things are sold and told to ask for Orric. Sayrui sets off with a purposeful stride as the emergence of the beast would have serious repercussions on her chosen profession.

Finding her way to the market is no problem as the buildings of the town are all built around the semi permanent tented trading hub of the town. She practically stumbles over Pringle who is wandering around looking quite lost. Walking through the tents she is assailed by the various traders and resellers of foods and other less savory items which she rebuffs. Soon finding Orric the horse salesman by the smell if nothing else she is rewarded with three fine steeds which they are assured are the fastest horses available. These they take to the outskirts of the city and start the ride to the metropolis of Ardal. Pringle not being an accomplished rider is in for another very uncomfortable trip.

Kat follows later ...

Kat however is having a more relaxed day and wanders around the admittedly impressive town for its size. It’s basically a huge bazaar surrounded by some buildings where people live; at the junction of a crossroads it is a major trade hub for the region and a large amount of wealth changes hands daily. There is also a lively river trade and all the benefits and otherwise that having many sailors in town has.

She soon finds herself in a local temple where they are serving “holy water” which seems to be a very finely brewed beer. This temple is to the god of beer among other things and his celebrations seem to be very rowdy. Kat has a discussion with a priest about the problems of the world which finally comes round to her party’s problems and the possibility of finding a cure for a certain ailment. Once they drink enough to think straight they find that beer cannot (contrary to popular belief) cure all ills. After discussions with the priest who is also serving as barman in this fine upstanding temple Kat is informed that no-one in town could cure that certain affliction and the closest would be Ardal; thanking the priest Kat takes a couple more bottles for the trip and heads to the market. Kat soon finds herself talking to a somewhat blurry man who is selling her a pair of horses which he assures her are the fastest left remaining in the town; Kat leaves town after swinging by the Gnomish smithy and picking up her new weapons without looking at them and then dropping into the clothes shop to collect Sayuri’s new sets of clothes.

Kat sets off swaying in the saddle towards what she hopes is Ardal; thankfully there are no incidents upon the way other than the swaying of the horses makes her feel somewhat nauseated and the odd trader she meets or passes. After a while she is feeling better and makes up for the initial delay by swapping horses regularly; she makes it to Ardal close to midnight.

Asking at the gate she is rewarded by a young guard who remembers Sayuri arriving in the city a few hours previously.

Don't call my girl a dog ...

A few hours previously: Sayuri followed by Zordlan and Pringle make it to the city of Ardal; they are saddle sore and tired but it’s only late afternoon. They are met at the gate buy some guards who enquire to their business in this fair city. Sayuri acting as spokeswoman for the group talks to the guards saying they are on a pilgrimage and would like to know where the temple of Desna is located. A young guardsman blown over by the Half Elf Sorcereress quickly volunteers to show them the way. Accepting graciously they are led into the ancient city and are shown the way through the winding streets to the temple district. Here they are shown to the steps of the Temple of Desna where they thank their young guide who is more than happy to watch Sayuri walk up the stairs to the temple doors.

Walking up the stairs the doors are wide open; upon entering there is a single tone that Sayuri is sure comes from the alter while the other two hardly notice it at all. There is a scurry of activity as the high priest is advised and a priest meets them to direct them to him. They are swiftly ushered into the sitting room for the high priest who looks to be a kindly appearing old man who is still spry with a twinkle in his eye.

Coming forward to shake their hand warmly he greets them all as old friends to the amusement of the group; then asking to see their tattoo’s the group finally come to the realization of why they are being treated so well. Sayuri concludes that the sound when they entered was a signal to those assembled that one touched by the goddess has arrived. Baring her shoulder she shows the old priest her tattoo who grins in enjoyment as he asks if he can see more of it. Knowing how far the tattoo goes she shakes her head while the old priest laughs. “Welcome Welcome please sit down; our colleague in Chastel advised us you were coming and needed some assistance. I have prepared the spells you require and I can cast them whenever you require. Rooms have been made available for you as honored guests and the spells will be at cost.” Nodding he heads back to his desk and sits down; with a gesture to one of the underlings soon hot bread and olives are brought forward with some wine to wash them down with. “Please, please eat while I make the preparations; it will only take a minute or two.”

Digging out several items he takes out several strips of parchment and starts writing upon each then wandering around the room casting as he goes and while they are enjoying the wine and food they are each cleansed of all diseases and afflictions. “Now is there anything else the clergy can do for you? I do hope you will be able to attend the service tonight; there is supposed to be quite am impressive show of shooting stars tonight.” With this agreement they all leave to make themselves presentable and they find the rooms while spartan are comfortable. There is a naturally fed volcanic pool which keeps a constant temperature where they can relax away the evening.

Kat arrives around midnight and as she enters the temple there is the ringing of a bell; she assumes it is some weird Desnan ritual in progress. She is shown to a room by the attending priests; the room looks to have been naturally formed; there is even a bed which has been grown from the rock. She unpacks and heads to the baths to remove the grime of the days activities.

Grembor finds himself home alone ...

Grembor waking in Chastel that morning drags himself from the bed and takes a wander downstairs; apparently everyone forgot he was there and left him in the tavern. They all had a relaxing morning bathing then running round the town buying things. Grembor staggers down mid morning to the looks of disgust from the owner; “tis past checking out time you will ave to pay for another night” he shoots at Grembors still sleep sodden form as it slumps at the bar. Fishing out a couple of gold he tosses it towards the surly barkeep who snatches them from midair with hands faster than his size would suggest possible.

Mumbling he asks about his companions and he is informed that they have already departed earlier that morning. Thanking the barkeep Grembor snatches something to eat from the kitchen which is preparing lunch and strolls outside into the bright sunlight shading his eyes from the light with a raised hand.

Taking a walk around the town he accosts some passerby’s till he finds the answer to his questions. With a more purposeful slouch he heads towards the dodgier side of town to see if he can find a tattoo artist and maybe pick up some tattoo equipment. The streets get closer together and the buildings lean in towards one another shutting out most of the light; his boots squelch as they land in the mud and excrement that paves the walkway. Eventually he finds the location he was looking for and walks into the disreputable looking establishment without noticing the amount of attention he is drawing. Attention of the wrong sort. …

The small hovel of a tattoo parlor is run by a vicious and evil looking old crone with a single bulbous eye peering out from greasy grey hair; wearing little more than a set of mis matched clothes which look to have been fished from the river. However she grunts at Grembor in what he assumes is in greeting and asks if she has some tattoo supplies he could buy from her. With a furious face she screams at him to get out of her shop and never darken her door again as she can’t afford the competition while brandishing a small but very sharp looking blade in one hand while the other is holding a series of needles. Grembor backs out of the shop and into the street in surprise at the furious outburst.

Grembor an attempted mugging

Shrugging to himself he starts wandering back towards the town center and better streets which are paved. Squelching down the roadway the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as his sixth sense tells him that there is something wrong; people are looking at him in a strange way, furtive and frightened as if they don’t want to associate with him. In a slightly cleaner window than its neighbors he notices the shadowy flittering figure of someone following behind. Without thinking he dives for the nearest dark alleyway and proceeds to scamper up the wall of the crumbling tenement.

Gaining the roof he is surprised as the business end of a crossbow is thrust into his face; it’s sharply pointed quarrel glinting merrily in the sunlight. Hearing the scramble of someone climbing up the wall behind him he relaxes for a moment until the assailant behind him is near the top. With lightning speed he moves agilely to the side and knocks the crossbow aside and down as it fires its thumb thick steel tipped bolt directly into the upturned face of the assailant climbing the wall. With a meaty thunk the bolt passes through his head causing it to explode like a ripe melon and the body drops limply to the ground below. Grembor whips out his dagger and slashes the crossbow holder across his shoulder as he looks on in dismay as he shot his friend in the head. With a roar and rage in his eyes he throws the crossbow at Grembor and whips out a long wickedly curved dagger and attempts to dissect the half elf with it. However the knife slips past Grembor who slaps the hand away and follows through with his own blade directly into his eye; the blade jarring to a halt as the tip impacts upon the inside of his skull. With a spurt of blood and eye juices the dagger is removed as another assailant tops the wall having just been missed by a limp falling body; Grembor leaps upon him as he crests the wall onto the flat roof burying the blade into his shoulder which elicits a cry of pain from the thug. In turn he pulls out a dirk which is slippery in his hand and turns in his hand as he tries to pierce Grembors leathers. With a swift kick into where he lives he almost collapses and is helped upon his way as Grambors Dagger sinks into the back of his skull ending his days of thuggery and abuse. Wiping off his dagger Grembor quickly searches the bodies pocketing a few loose coins and a credit slip he found in the crossbowman’s shoe before sliding down the wall and continuing along his way whistling. Apparently mindless slaughter of inept muggers is a fine way to start an otherwise crappy day.

Making it back to the center of town in the hustle and bustle of the bazaar he again accosts a passerby requesting information on the local temples; finding directions to Temple Street he soon finds himself outside of the Temple of Desna; upon entering he hears a chime from the area of the alter and is soon attended to by some under priests. Outlining his problem he is soon brought before the local high priest who advises Grembor that they can’t heal the particular affliction and he will have to head to the closest city of Ardel to get this healed. He will advise the high priest to look out for him and await his arrival. Bidding him safe travels he heads out to find a horse and to replace his equipment.

Travel to Ardel

Walking back to the Bazaar he notices smoke and the sound of hammering coming from a stone building near the river; entering there is a gnome hard at work over a shiney silvery long sword. Grembor makes his introductions and asks for some silver arrowheads which he has in stock. Asking after the sword the gnomish smith advises him that it’s a special rush project for this evening. Grembor knowing his group asks if it’s for Kat and describes her to which the gnome confirms. For a small price Grembor and the gnome agree to etch a certain phallic looking dragon onto the sword. Chuckling to himself Grembor leaves the mastersmith to his artistry.

Finding the stables he finds Orric a poor stressed seller of horseflesh (who has had a very good day) and finds that all of his fast horses have already been bought earlier that day. Apparently there has been a rush on the fastest horses around and all he has left is a big horse. While not as fast as its smaller brothers and sisters it is faster than walking and will get him there. Grembor after giving the horse a look over and noticing some small scarring on it’s flanks suggesting it may have been in battle agrees to the outlandishly high price and sets out on the lumbering warhorse to the city.

The journey south is uneventful, several traveling merchants are heading either way and the road is well used. Making pretty good time Grembor is soon at the gates of the city of Ardel. The gates are however closed as its past dusk but he is soon admitted when he shows proof that he is not a goblin or orc. Asking after the local temple of Desna he is directed to the location and he sets off to find it.

Walking up the stairs to the temple doors he strides into the temple to the sound of the alter ringing like a bell. Attended to with interest by the local under priests he is soon directed to a comfortable room. On the way to his room he finds Sayuri, Pringle and Zordlan walking back to their own rooms in blue woolen over robes having just emerged from another soaking in the communal baths. Grembor is welcomed and they quickly get properly dressed as Grembor is shown to the high priest who shakes his hand warmly and prepares the same ritual of cleansing that he performed on the others in the group.

Almost an animal

Performing the ritual the high priest has a confused look as it does not seem to take hold. Sitting down at his desk he brings out a large book and starts reading with a worried expression. After several minutes Grembor is shifting uncomfortably in his seat getting as worried as the elder priest is looking. Finally a young priest is summoned and given a key from around the Elder’s neck who looks surprised as he runs off out of the room.

Smiling the Elder dismissed Grembors questions with a wave of his hand and sets out some extra paraphernalia; sprinkling silver dust in a wide circle round Grembors seated form and setting large white candles at exact points. The priest returns bearing a very large and dusty tome and a small bag which he presents to the Elder.

Taking the heavy book he places it reverently on his desk and opens it in a cloud of dust; tutting in disgust at the cleanliness of the tome he bows gently over the pages to remove most of the detritus before carefully leafing through the tome. Finding the page he needed he picks up the small bag and with a careful hand and many trips back to the tome to check he completes a careful and intricate circle of power round Grembor. If Grembor knew much about magic he may indeed be very worried.

The holding and focusing circle compleate he turns the page to the complex ritual; gathering several other items from his desk and sending an underling to gather some others he starts another ritual; this one as far as Grembor is concerned consists of being splashed with water; some fine silvery dust and some plant which he manages to recognize as wolfsbane. Towards the end of the ritual the silver seems to burn his skin and he can feel something dark and powerful coiled within his mind. Each splash of water; sprinkle of silver and brush with the plant seems to scour his soul and sends shooting pains through his whole body.

With a feral growl he launches himself at the fragile appearing old man; teeth bared and fingers crooked like claws the old man is sure to meet his doom at the teeth and claw of the feral wolflike being. That is if the barrier he set up didn’t bring Gremborwolf to a sudden and abrupt halt as his face hits a very solid obstruction; slumping to the ground dazed the old priest continues walking round the circle sprinkling various things upon the prone form. With a soul tearing howl the priest finishes the ritual and a ghostly red mist arises from the prone Grembor and flails about the circle unable to break free; it’s fierce eyes rest upon the old priest with pure evil and hate before with a clenching grip the old priest rips the spirit apart.

Grembor wakes up several minutes later with no memory of the events and the last thing he remembers was the priest walking round him setting up some candles. The old priest is sitting in his chair with sweat running down his face trying to stem the tide with the sleeve of his robe.

“You had a powerful spirit inside of you young man; it was very reluctant to leave. I would wager you were infected before the others were and it had longer to latch onto you. I don’t know if I could have removed its presence if left another hour.” Grembor looks on in fear at the old priests words; “don’t worry you have been cleansed; I would suggest you go and bathe to remove some of the after effects of the ritual.” With that an underpriest with a concerned look at the Elder priest sitting in his chair looking like a shadow of his former self reaches for a glass of water with a shaking hand as he escorts Grembor out to find the baths.

DM Note: Grembor was infected prior to the others; his illicit affair with the stable mistress infected him with Lycanthopy several hours prior to the more obvious bites when fighting the Primals at the Stairs of the Moon. The Stable mistress is not a werewolf in the books but it was too good a chance to give up and they would have a spy in the camp. Grembor was turning into a Dorzhanev werewolf as evidenced by the female Cybrisa Dorzhanev looking at him strangely upon the tower top. Grembor and the party had no idea though …