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CLOSED Pathfinder: Rise of the Runelords, Burnt Offerings
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<blockquote data-quote="hewligan" data-source="post: 4441685" data-attributes="member: 19688"><p><strong>A Hero's Welcome</strong></p><p></p><p>A hero's welcome is not forthcoming. You reach Sandpoint just as night is closing in. You are, to a man, cold, hungry, and tired. Mal and the horse trail behind, both appearing wary of the other, both looking ready for a warm place to sleep.</p><p></p><p>The town, when you arrive back, is quiet. Several people are returning late from their work to their homes. Candle-light flickers from most windows. The smell of smoke drifts from the many chimneys. At the gate the guards are new, fresh from Hemlock's trip to Magnimar. They nod, perhaps recognising you from descriptions given to them, but they are not men you have served alongside.</p><p></p><p>"Well met" they offer. "Back already?"</p><p></p><p>You find it hard to build up the enthusiasm to respond. Jovik asks one to fetch Hemlock and Mayor Deverin from their evening meal, and then wanders with the rest to the Mayor's office.</p><p></p><p>They have to wait some time before anyone turns up. First to arrive is Sheriff Hemlock. He looks insanely tired, with bags under his eyes, and stress lines creasing his forehead. When he sees you all, and he actually stops to make eye contact with each of you in turn, as if convincing himself that you ALL survived, he actually lets out a laugh of pure delight and surges forward, the Shoanti in him surging out for a moment as he embraces you each in turn. "My boys, my boys, my boys" he stammers. "Oh tell me it went well, tell me we finally have some fair news for this cursed town!"</p><p></p><p>The door swings open as he breaks away from you. Mayor Deverin, looking composed, but equally tired, hesitates.</p><p></p><p>"Well? Please let the tidings be fair?"</p><p></p><p>---</p><p></p><p>The story you reveal to them takes almost as long in the telling as it took in the doing. Half way through food and drink that you never noticed Deverin ordering arrives. You feast on cold meats and bread, red wine, and perfect autumnal apples. The cider this year will be good!</p><p></p><p>You each take turns, adding to the story, remembering some painful addition, revealing the journals, the heads, the necklace with ears, the fate of the old priest, now an offering to Laamashtu. But you keep some things private, as if in silent agreement. You are not sure how to breach the suggestions that Nualia made about her adoptive father, or the child she claims was sired alive. You leave out the part about the goblin children you spared.</p><p></p><p>And for some reason, all of you fail to mention the demon. It is as if some unspoken pact exists between you. Perhaps it is simply because you completed the mission you were sent out to do, and there is no need to dwell on what was left behind.</p><p></p><p>When you talk of burning down the fort, Hemlock laughs with glee and offers up some Shoanti insult to the goblins that would make your mothers blush. A reproving glare from Deverin makes him cough nervously and apologise. The big man is clearly delighted.</p><p></p><p>"We will stake and display the goblin king's head in the centre of town. Nualia ... I think we will ask the church to consecrate and bury her head. It would do the people no good to see the head of one they remember as a child of heaven, a plane touched charm in their midst. They recall her that way, and we do not need them to think that their angel was cursed to become a demon. Our days are dark enough as they are. And I ask you all to not mention her, or what happened to her father. We have covered things up here. We have covered up the theft from the graveyard ... you have closed this issue for us. Lets let the people sleep easy at nights. FOR ONCE!"</p><p></p><p>Deverin finishes her request, and looks at you all for confirmation. When she sees that no disagreement is coming she continues.</p><p></p><p>"You will be heroes here. We will make you freemen of this town. We will make a Charter of the Wolves of Sandpoint, and you will be its members. We have little money to speak of here, but I do still have some political power, and I will work hard to have Magnimar reward you!"</p><p></p><p>At last, the meal is over, and talk is done. You get to leave your macabre cargo behind and leave for a night of drinking and sleep. The horse is stabled by the guards, and the ale will flow.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="hewligan, post: 4441685, member: 19688"] [b]A Hero's Welcome[/b] A hero's welcome is not forthcoming. You reach Sandpoint just as night is closing in. You are, to a man, cold, hungry, and tired. Mal and the horse trail behind, both appearing wary of the other, both looking ready for a warm place to sleep. The town, when you arrive back, is quiet. Several people are returning late from their work to their homes. Candle-light flickers from most windows. The smell of smoke drifts from the many chimneys. At the gate the guards are new, fresh from Hemlock's trip to Magnimar. They nod, perhaps recognising you from descriptions given to them, but they are not men you have served alongside. "Well met" they offer. "Back already?" You find it hard to build up the enthusiasm to respond. Jovik asks one to fetch Hemlock and Mayor Deverin from their evening meal, and then wanders with the rest to the Mayor's office. They have to wait some time before anyone turns up. First to arrive is Sheriff Hemlock. He looks insanely tired, with bags under his eyes, and stress lines creasing his forehead. When he sees you all, and he actually stops to make eye contact with each of you in turn, as if convincing himself that you ALL survived, he actually lets out a laugh of pure delight and surges forward, the Shoanti in him surging out for a moment as he embraces you each in turn. "My boys, my boys, my boys" he stammers. "Oh tell me it went well, tell me we finally have some fair news for this cursed town!" The door swings open as he breaks away from you. Mayor Deverin, looking composed, but equally tired, hesitates. "Well? Please let the tidings be fair?" --- The story you reveal to them takes almost as long in the telling as it took in the doing. Half way through food and drink that you never noticed Deverin ordering arrives. You feast on cold meats and bread, red wine, and perfect autumnal apples. The cider this year will be good! You each take turns, adding to the story, remembering some painful addition, revealing the journals, the heads, the necklace with ears, the fate of the old priest, now an offering to Laamashtu. But you keep some things private, as if in silent agreement. You are not sure how to breach the suggestions that Nualia made about her adoptive father, or the child she claims was sired alive. You leave out the part about the goblin children you spared. And for some reason, all of you fail to mention the demon. It is as if some unspoken pact exists between you. Perhaps it is simply because you completed the mission you were sent out to do, and there is no need to dwell on what was left behind. When you talk of burning down the fort, Hemlock laughs with glee and offers up some Shoanti insult to the goblins that would make your mothers blush. A reproving glare from Deverin makes him cough nervously and apologise. The big man is clearly delighted. "We will stake and display the goblin king's head in the centre of town. Nualia ... I think we will ask the church to consecrate and bury her head. It would do the people no good to see the head of one they remember as a child of heaven, a plane touched charm in their midst. They recall her that way, and we do not need them to think that their angel was cursed to become a demon. Our days are dark enough as they are. And I ask you all to not mention her, or what happened to her father. We have covered things up here. We have covered up the theft from the graveyard ... you have closed this issue for us. Lets let the people sleep easy at nights. FOR ONCE!" Deverin finishes her request, and looks at you all for confirmation. When she sees that no disagreement is coming she continues. "You will be heroes here. We will make you freemen of this town. We will make a Charter of the Wolves of Sandpoint, and you will be its members. We have little money to speak of here, but I do still have some political power, and I will work hard to have Magnimar reward you!" At last, the meal is over, and talk is done. You get to leave your macabre cargo behind and leave for a night of drinking and sleep. The horse is stabled by the guards, and the ale will flow. [/QUOTE]
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