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Soanso's Fireside Chat: Rise of the Runelords (AE)
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<blockquote data-quote="soanso" data-source="post: 6166446" data-attributes="member: 6684655"><p><strong>Beneath Sandpoint</strong></p><p></p><p>Tsuto had little affection for Sandpoint. His leather-bound effort was part military campaign journal, part bad poetry fawning over one referred to as “My Love”, and part half-lucid daily entries. With so much information in it, I took my time reading and noting what seemed important. </p><p> </p><p>The attack on Sandpoint was deliberate and coordinated by Tsuto at least, and perhaps others. His notes detailed the attack, marking the Smuggler’s Tunnels beneath the glassworks as well as a riverfront approach at the town’s eastern border. He listed Brethazmus and Ripnugget as allies; two names I recognized from our chat with the elf ranger, Shalelu. Tsuto paraphrased His Love, writing that once “Malfeshnekor is released and under her command, we won’t need to worry about being subtle.” This Malfeshnekor is an entity worth researching. </p><p></p><p> </p><p>He also hinted at another raid with 200 goblins backing it, something to consider going forward. He also mentioned a being simply called “the Quasit”, whose lair was beneath the town- “Send her freaks up from below via the Smuggler’s Tunnels beneath my father’s glassworks…” Tsuto had a grand plan for invasion; I wondered what kept him from executing these orders to their full extent. </p><p></p><p> </p><p>The next entry chilled me to the bone- Nualia, the adopted aasimar daughter of Father Tobyn, is alive.</p><p></p><p> </p><p>We never checked her tomb in the family crypt; it was undisturbed and that was how we left it, in deference to the deceased. Tsuto wrote that the invasion was simply a distraction to gain Tobyn’s body, so that Nualia could sacrifice it - “She remains obsessed with removing what she calls her ‘Celestial taint’ and replacing it with her Mother’s Grace. Burning her father’s remains at the Thistletop shrine seems to have started the transformation, but I can’t say that her new hand is pleasing to me…. Maybe I’ll luck out. Succubi are demons, too, aren’t they?” Tsuto’s obsession was Nualia, who seems to be bent on destroying Sandpoint, or at least herself, in some macabre ritual.</p><p></p><p> </p><p>Tsuto also mentioned Nualia’s “obsession with the lower chambers”, perhaps another tie to the Quasit. A thick plot of intrigue, sabotage, and death plagued my mind; I stepped out to find my friends and to share my findings. Surly as Tsuto might have been, something must have warped his mind to this nefarious plot.</p><p></p><p> I told myself that perhaps Tsuto’s death was necessary; a splinter of doubt in this evil cabal’s paw. I struggled to find a parable for the event; I found none. This is how tales begin, then. In a moment of necessity, to be forever celebrated or reviled for the outcome.</p><p> </p><p>My friends reclined in the common room; I brought the journal with me and we began in earnest to decipher the text. Shaiira recognized the sketches of Nualia, which surprised me. We decided to further explore the glassworks, hoping to find the goblin’s entry-point and close it. </p><p></p><p> Before we turned in for the evening, we asked Bethanna if Ameiko would see us. The halfling said her mistress was in good health and would meet us in short time. She met us in the drawing room, and said she was as well as could be expected. She told us that Tsuto tried to recruit her to the Thistletop goblin’s banner, and that Nualia did indeed guide her brother’s hand. She refused his offer, of course, and the goblins attacked and captured her. We bid her goodnight, and retired to our chambers for some true rest. </p><p> </p><p>We awoke, refreshed and ready for the day; Mundin was uncharacteristically jovial at breakfast. I took this as a good portent- a happy dwarf means no rain. A common Shoanti saying about gray mornings near the Storval Plateau; its veracity is questionable, but tis a colloquialism I’ve come to embrace. The more time I spend with the foul-tempered dwarf, the more I find his dour visage a mask for something else, something deeper than the disdain he projects. I wonder if my conviviality strikes him similarly. I respect his prowess in the field, and we’ve yet to sit by the fire to share yesterdays, but I know we both share the tragedy of loss. Tis in his eyes, and likely mine.</p><p></p><p> </p><p>We made cursory stops at a few shops in town to pick up some trinkets, and headed back to the glassworks. Descending deeper into the basement, we came to a crossroads of three tunnels. The tunnels leading forward and to our right continued on into the darkness. The third tunnel, to our left, was bricked up, but a hole had been punched through from our side, leaving an opening. We went left.</p><p></p><p> </p><p>A humanoid advanced upon us; a zombie, most likely. To our surprise the thing was quick and struck with nasty claws. Combat was over in two blinks of an eye, but I stopped to study the body. C and Vohoi thought it to be a sinspawn; not an undead beast but something warped by the powerful magic of the ancient Thassilonian Runelords. I recognized the reference, but could not believe this was such a creature; my scholarly friends’ gravitas gave my own mind doubts.</p><p></p><p> </p><p>We followed the natural cavern until it ended abruptly; a door in the rock to the right was unlocked. Shaiira opened it and we entered a small room of worked stone, a grand statue of a woman holding a finely wrought ranseur in one hand, and a tome embossed with a Thassilonian rune in the other. Vohoi noticed the Sihedron, a rune associated with power in ancient Thassilon, and I noticed the ranseur as being particularly ornate. Sha freed it from the statue; we held our collective breath as the stone continued to stand guard. We studied it briefly, but made no assumptions about it beyond that this was, indeed, an ancient place. When Vohoi tried to determine its arcane potential, nothing but the walls were imbued. Odd to find magic to keep things current, here.</p><p></p><p> </p><p>Another door in the tunnel; Shaiira again led us in. This opened to a wooden scaffolding, maybe ten feet above the floor of the room. A horror stood on it, and we advanced.</p><p></p><p> </p><p>Twas the size of a man, but odd. Once I met it with my rapier, I knew it to be another sinspawn. </p><p></p><p> </p><p>Its mouth was double-jawed, one set opening onto another, with a set of feelers, maybe tiny hands, set about the chin. Red eyes that absorbed light and flickered with hate. Arms too long, ending in wicked hands tipped with three vicious claws; legs that bent back like a dog’s; deathly pale skin, the kind of pale you expect from a derro, or an undersea fish beyond light. And the tenacity of the walking dead, but fast. Faster than a wight, and more wicked, more hateful in its approach.</p><p></p><p> We fell to the beast as another crept up from beneath the scaffolding; I struck true more than once. </p><p></p><p>This hero business is an easy sell to myself when I harness the emptiness left by the giants; each time my blade draws blood, I feel the sick pleasure of contrition. Panting, we surveyed the room, what must have been some sort of prison. Empty. This is my family, now. Vengeance grows in my heart, a dark spot I have not felt before. I will not let them die.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="soanso, post: 6166446, member: 6684655"] [b]Beneath Sandpoint[/b] Tsuto had little affection for Sandpoint. His leather-bound effort was part military campaign journal, part bad poetry fawning over one referred to as “My Love”, and part half-lucid daily entries. With so much information in it, I took my time reading and noting what seemed important. The attack on Sandpoint was deliberate and coordinated by Tsuto at least, and perhaps others. His notes detailed the attack, marking the Smuggler’s Tunnels beneath the glassworks as well as a riverfront approach at the town’s eastern border. He listed Brethazmus and Ripnugget as allies; two names I recognized from our chat with the elf ranger, Shalelu. Tsuto paraphrased His Love, writing that once “Malfeshnekor is released and under her command, we won’t need to worry about being subtle.” This Malfeshnekor is an entity worth researching. He also hinted at another raid with 200 goblins backing it, something to consider going forward. He also mentioned a being simply called “the Quasit”, whose lair was beneath the town- “Send her freaks up from below via the Smuggler’s Tunnels beneath my father’s glassworks…” Tsuto had a grand plan for invasion; I wondered what kept him from executing these orders to their full extent. The next entry chilled me to the bone- Nualia, the adopted aasimar daughter of Father Tobyn, is alive. We never checked her tomb in the family crypt; it was undisturbed and that was how we left it, in deference to the deceased. Tsuto wrote that the invasion was simply a distraction to gain Tobyn’s body, so that Nualia could sacrifice it - “She remains obsessed with removing what she calls her ‘Celestial taint’ and replacing it with her Mother’s Grace. Burning her father’s remains at the Thistletop shrine seems to have started the transformation, but I can’t say that her new hand is pleasing to me…. Maybe I’ll luck out. Succubi are demons, too, aren’t they?” Tsuto’s obsession was Nualia, who seems to be bent on destroying Sandpoint, or at least herself, in some macabre ritual. Tsuto also mentioned Nualia’s “obsession with the lower chambers”, perhaps another tie to the Quasit. A thick plot of intrigue, sabotage, and death plagued my mind; I stepped out to find my friends and to share my findings. Surly as Tsuto might have been, something must have warped his mind to this nefarious plot. I told myself that perhaps Tsuto’s death was necessary; a splinter of doubt in this evil cabal’s paw. I struggled to find a parable for the event; I found none. This is how tales begin, then. In a moment of necessity, to be forever celebrated or reviled for the outcome. My friends reclined in the common room; I brought the journal with me and we began in earnest to decipher the text. Shaiira recognized the sketches of Nualia, which surprised me. We decided to further explore the glassworks, hoping to find the goblin’s entry-point and close it. Before we turned in for the evening, we asked Bethanna if Ameiko would see us. The halfling said her mistress was in good health and would meet us in short time. She met us in the drawing room, and said she was as well as could be expected. She told us that Tsuto tried to recruit her to the Thistletop goblin’s banner, and that Nualia did indeed guide her brother’s hand. She refused his offer, of course, and the goblins attacked and captured her. We bid her goodnight, and retired to our chambers for some true rest. We awoke, refreshed and ready for the day; Mundin was uncharacteristically jovial at breakfast. I took this as a good portent- a happy dwarf means no rain. A common Shoanti saying about gray mornings near the Storval Plateau; its veracity is questionable, but tis a colloquialism I’ve come to embrace. The more time I spend with the foul-tempered dwarf, the more I find his dour visage a mask for something else, something deeper than the disdain he projects. I wonder if my conviviality strikes him similarly. I respect his prowess in the field, and we’ve yet to sit by the fire to share yesterdays, but I know we both share the tragedy of loss. Tis in his eyes, and likely mine. We made cursory stops at a few shops in town to pick up some trinkets, and headed back to the glassworks. Descending deeper into the basement, we came to a crossroads of three tunnels. The tunnels leading forward and to our right continued on into the darkness. The third tunnel, to our left, was bricked up, but a hole had been punched through from our side, leaving an opening. We went left. A humanoid advanced upon us; a zombie, most likely. To our surprise the thing was quick and struck with nasty claws. Combat was over in two blinks of an eye, but I stopped to study the body. C and Vohoi thought it to be a sinspawn; not an undead beast but something warped by the powerful magic of the ancient Thassilonian Runelords. I recognized the reference, but could not believe this was such a creature; my scholarly friends’ gravitas gave my own mind doubts. We followed the natural cavern until it ended abruptly; a door in the rock to the right was unlocked. Shaiira opened it and we entered a small room of worked stone, a grand statue of a woman holding a finely wrought ranseur in one hand, and a tome embossed with a Thassilonian rune in the other. Vohoi noticed the Sihedron, a rune associated with power in ancient Thassilon, and I noticed the ranseur as being particularly ornate. Sha freed it from the statue; we held our collective breath as the stone continued to stand guard. We studied it briefly, but made no assumptions about it beyond that this was, indeed, an ancient place. When Vohoi tried to determine its arcane potential, nothing but the walls were imbued. Odd to find magic to keep things current, here. Another door in the tunnel; Shaiira again led us in. This opened to a wooden scaffolding, maybe ten feet above the floor of the room. A horror stood on it, and we advanced. Twas the size of a man, but odd. Once I met it with my rapier, I knew it to be another sinspawn. Its mouth was double-jawed, one set opening onto another, with a set of feelers, maybe tiny hands, set about the chin. Red eyes that absorbed light and flickered with hate. Arms too long, ending in wicked hands tipped with three vicious claws; legs that bent back like a dog’s; deathly pale skin, the kind of pale you expect from a derro, or an undersea fish beyond light. And the tenacity of the walking dead, but fast. Faster than a wight, and more wicked, more hateful in its approach. We fell to the beast as another crept up from beneath the scaffolding; I struck true more than once. This hero business is an easy sell to myself when I harness the emptiness left by the giants; each time my blade draws blood, I feel the sick pleasure of contrition. Panting, we surveyed the room, what must have been some sort of prison. Empty. This is my family, now. Vengeance grows in my heart, a dark spot I have not felt before. I will not let them die. [/QUOTE]
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