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Soanso's Fireside Chat: Rise of the Runelords (AE)
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<blockquote data-quote="soanso" data-source="post: 6219405" data-attributes="member: 6684655"><p><strong>The Hambley Place</strong></p><p></p><p>We rode through the early evening, arriving at the Rusty Dragon after dinner. Ameiko was indisposed, so Bethanna greeted us, treating our tired bodies to a charcuterie board and day-old bread, sherry and a dry Korvosan red that paired well with the cured meats and oils that served as our repast. We supped and turned in, exhausted from the day.</p><p> </p><p>Morning brought a lead-gray sky and a steady drizzle. And Belor. After breakfast, he greeted us in the Great Room of the inn, an old, wiry man in tow. </p><p> </p><p>“Greetings, Heroes!” the sheriff bellowed across the room. Pinned down by his greeting, we awkwardly stood to greet him. “I’ve got someone with a story you’ll find interesting,” he said as he approached. The thin man removed his wide-brimmed leather hat and bowed low. His thin hair was iron-gray and his brown eyes told stories of hardship, toil, and loss.</p><p> </p><p>“Livin’ scarecrows!” he shouted. “Plain as the dawn! They jus’ get up offa them posts and start movin’ about! Quick an’ vicious- been attackin’ folks at th’ crossroads!”</p><p> </p><p>“Shh! Shh! Calm down!” I shouted back before quieting my own voice. If the few patrons in the Great Room were listening, they didn’t appear to be phased by the man’s ranting. “Where are your fallow fields?” I asked. </p><p> </p><p>“South, of course,” he said. “Jep Clambett’s the name, too. Clambett’s Farm along the Soggy River, but these abom’nishins been seen spread all over the heartland. They stalk the night, takin’ folks that’re out for a stroll, even breakin’ down doors, devouring folks in they sleep. Especially odd is Hambley’s place. We get some survivors up our way, or those just gettin’ out for fearin’ the worst, but nobody’s come across Hambley or his kin. They say that even the crows avoid his crops.”</p><p> </p><p>We sat briefly with Jep and Belor, mapping the homesteads of the lowlands. We decided to travel the quickest path to the Hambley homestead, but to stop at farms along the way for clues or to encourage the families to seek refuge at the Clambett’s Farm.</p><p> </p><p>We traveled the roads through the fertile lowlands, finding a few recently abandoned farms; Desna guide them. As we approached another crossroads, a scarecrow was nailed to a post across the way. We paused, and it fought its way off the post and lunged forward to attack. Mundin and Noria quickly ended the threat. Removing the mask revealed the scarecrow was not a golem, as we first suspected- it was far worse. The dreaded visage of a ghoul lay beneath the mask. Knowing how quickly this fever could cripple a populace, we increased our vigilance.</p><p> </p><p>Approaching another crossroads, we spied another scarecrow trussed to a pole several yards ahead. </p><p> </p><p>“It moves,” Noria said, peering into the distance.</p><p> “It dies,” I said, fitting a bolt into my crossbow. I fired twice before it ceased. Upon removing the burlap mask, I was horrified to see the face of a young man, the scant beginnings of a beard on his jowls. </p><p> “His eyes,” C said, pointing to the milky white orbs. Perhaps a man, perhaps a monster. We moved on.</p><p> </p><p>Another scarecrow stood across the road. Noria approached it and dismantled it; though it was just burlap, straw, and old flannel, we all felt better for it. Something wicked this way stalks.</p><p> </p><p>We approached the Hambley place in the afternoon. The two-story farmhouse was flanked by a large barn; its most noticeable feature was that the wooden walls of the barn were built around and incorporated a statue depicting a huge Thassilonian-like head.</p><p> </p><p>“Is it a Runelord?” Shaiira asked.</p><p> “Nay, this is the face of a Thassilonian warrior,” Vohoi said. The twelve-foot high visage was covered in moss, and was nondescript in its workmanship. I trusted Vohoi’s scholarship.</p><p> </p><p>The dwarves opened the barn doors, and a half-dozen bodies fell upon us like starving ghouls- because they were. We hacked and slashed at them, eventually dropping them all; but worse for the wear.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you feeling fine?” C asked Mundin.</p><p> “Pfft, never better,” the dwarf answered. “Let’s go!” </p><p> </p><p>I stayed close enough to C and Noria. They whispered about Mundin’s glassy eyes; they fear the ghoul fever. I decided I’d keep an eye on him, too. We couldn’t afford to lose a key member of the team to the disease. Should things turn for the worse, I decided, a <em>saving finale</em> was in order.</p><p> </p><p>It was time to investigate the Hambley house. As we approached the front porch, a portly ghoul threw open the front door; he was missing his left ear.</p><p> </p><p>He extended a gnarled figure in my direction, and through a hoarse chuckle he shouted, “He was right! You came, I am so surprised!” </p><p> </p><p>I drew my rapier as the ghoul moved- so fast it was if his feet didn’t touch the ground for traction. His claws extended and with his nasty ghoul-tongue protruding, my rapier found a soft spot and he paused, briefly, as black blood pooled at my feet. Then his claws, and his bite.</p><p> </p><p>I was paralyzed. </p><p> </p><p>I watched Noria’s axe glow with hot white light as she moved in and struck him down. Shaiira found an intricate amulet around his neck, a key, really. I recognized it as the Foxglove family symbol, a rose blossom surrounded by thorns.</p><p> </p><p>Everything was a din then. I couldn’t concentrate, had trouble standing, and felt an unnatural rage build in my heart. I saw a stern look from Noria, and my heart dropped; yet I felt a foul hunger within me. I was infected, too. I took a moment to grapple air into my body, to regain control of myself. I was sick, but there was a cure. Zantus could help us. Maybe.</p><p> </p><p>We moved into the house. The front room was slick with blood and gore, and the mutilated body of a man lay in the center. Face removed, jaw stolen, and a sihedron rune clawed into his chest; most likely Hambley himself. Why? The rest of the house was a museum of its residents. They likely perished as ghouls by our hand.</p><p> </p><p>We traveled back to Sandpoint and met Father Zantus; his healing grace removed our afflictions. During our short rest I sequestered myself. In my room, I sat at the desk and penned a letter to Aldern. When I finished, I felt as if it could be all for naught. Something gnawed at my heart, pulling me back from the sudden swoon I found myself indulging. Was I falling for a troubled noble? Was I ready to let down my guard to save a man whose life might be in danger? I crumpled the letter into a ball and tossed it into the fireplace. I tried again. My hand trembled as I slid the note into an envelope and sealed it with red wax. I found a merchant headed out to Magnimar, and gave him a few sovereigns to deliver the note to Aldern’s townhouse . The note simply read, “Be safe, dear Aldern. I must visit the Misgivings soon. I hope to meet you in Magnimar when the storm has passed.” I felt relieved and stupid, both at once.</p><p> </p><p>The next day, we traveled south again to revisit the Hambley place. Our route took us to the safe-house, where many families of the northern farms found refuge during the Ghoul Plague. As we approached Hambley’s farm, where we were met by several scarecrow-ghouls. We made quick work of our foes behind Vohoi’s spells. We found several victims pinned down to become ghouls and gave them grace. Other scarecrows were simply dismantled. We then turned our attention to the Misgivings.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="soanso, post: 6219405, member: 6684655"] [b]The Hambley Place[/b] We rode through the early evening, arriving at the Rusty Dragon after dinner. Ameiko was indisposed, so Bethanna greeted us, treating our tired bodies to a charcuterie board and day-old bread, sherry and a dry Korvosan red that paired well with the cured meats and oils that served as our repast. We supped and turned in, exhausted from the day. Morning brought a lead-gray sky and a steady drizzle. And Belor. After breakfast, he greeted us in the Great Room of the inn, an old, wiry man in tow. “Greetings, Heroes!” the sheriff bellowed across the room. Pinned down by his greeting, we awkwardly stood to greet him. “I’ve got someone with a story you’ll find interesting,” he said as he approached. The thin man removed his wide-brimmed leather hat and bowed low. His thin hair was iron-gray and his brown eyes told stories of hardship, toil, and loss. “Livin’ scarecrows!” he shouted. “Plain as the dawn! They jus’ get up offa them posts and start movin’ about! Quick an’ vicious- been attackin’ folks at th’ crossroads!” “Shh! Shh! Calm down!” I shouted back before quieting my own voice. If the few patrons in the Great Room were listening, they didn’t appear to be phased by the man’s ranting. “Where are your fallow fields?” I asked. “South, of course,” he said. “Jep Clambett’s the name, too. Clambett’s Farm along the Soggy River, but these abom’nishins been seen spread all over the heartland. They stalk the night, takin’ folks that’re out for a stroll, even breakin’ down doors, devouring folks in they sleep. Especially odd is Hambley’s place. We get some survivors up our way, or those just gettin’ out for fearin’ the worst, but nobody’s come across Hambley or his kin. They say that even the crows avoid his crops.” We sat briefly with Jep and Belor, mapping the homesteads of the lowlands. We decided to travel the quickest path to the Hambley homestead, but to stop at farms along the way for clues or to encourage the families to seek refuge at the Clambett’s Farm. We traveled the roads through the fertile lowlands, finding a few recently abandoned farms; Desna guide them. As we approached another crossroads, a scarecrow was nailed to a post across the way. We paused, and it fought its way off the post and lunged forward to attack. Mundin and Noria quickly ended the threat. Removing the mask revealed the scarecrow was not a golem, as we first suspected- it was far worse. The dreaded visage of a ghoul lay beneath the mask. Knowing how quickly this fever could cripple a populace, we increased our vigilance. Approaching another crossroads, we spied another scarecrow trussed to a pole several yards ahead. “It moves,” Noria said, peering into the distance. “It dies,” I said, fitting a bolt into my crossbow. I fired twice before it ceased. Upon removing the burlap mask, I was horrified to see the face of a young man, the scant beginnings of a beard on his jowls. “His eyes,” C said, pointing to the milky white orbs. Perhaps a man, perhaps a monster. We moved on. Another scarecrow stood across the road. Noria approached it and dismantled it; though it was just burlap, straw, and old flannel, we all felt better for it. Something wicked this way stalks. We approached the Hambley place in the afternoon. The two-story farmhouse was flanked by a large barn; its most noticeable feature was that the wooden walls of the barn were built around and incorporated a statue depicting a huge Thassilonian-like head. “Is it a Runelord?” Shaiira asked. “Nay, this is the face of a Thassilonian warrior,” Vohoi said. The twelve-foot high visage was covered in moss, and was nondescript in its workmanship. I trusted Vohoi’s scholarship. The dwarves opened the barn doors, and a half-dozen bodies fell upon us like starving ghouls- because they were. We hacked and slashed at them, eventually dropping them all; but worse for the wear. “Are you feeling fine?” C asked Mundin. “Pfft, never better,” the dwarf answered. “Let’s go!” I stayed close enough to C and Noria. They whispered about Mundin’s glassy eyes; they fear the ghoul fever. I decided I’d keep an eye on him, too. We couldn’t afford to lose a key member of the team to the disease. Should things turn for the worse, I decided, a [I]saving finale[/I] was in order. It was time to investigate the Hambley house. As we approached the front porch, a portly ghoul threw open the front door; he was missing his left ear. He extended a gnarled figure in my direction, and through a hoarse chuckle he shouted, “He was right! You came, I am so surprised!” I drew my rapier as the ghoul moved- so fast it was if his feet didn’t touch the ground for traction. His claws extended and with his nasty ghoul-tongue protruding, my rapier found a soft spot and he paused, briefly, as black blood pooled at my feet. Then his claws, and his bite. I was paralyzed. I watched Noria’s axe glow with hot white light as she moved in and struck him down. Shaiira found an intricate amulet around his neck, a key, really. I recognized it as the Foxglove family symbol, a rose blossom surrounded by thorns. Everything was a din then. I couldn’t concentrate, had trouble standing, and felt an unnatural rage build in my heart. I saw a stern look from Noria, and my heart dropped; yet I felt a foul hunger within me. I was infected, too. I took a moment to grapple air into my body, to regain control of myself. I was sick, but there was a cure. Zantus could help us. Maybe. We moved into the house. The front room was slick with blood and gore, and the mutilated body of a man lay in the center. Face removed, jaw stolen, and a sihedron rune clawed into his chest; most likely Hambley himself. Why? The rest of the house was a museum of its residents. They likely perished as ghouls by our hand. We traveled back to Sandpoint and met Father Zantus; his healing grace removed our afflictions. During our short rest I sequestered myself. In my room, I sat at the desk and penned a letter to Aldern. When I finished, I felt as if it could be all for naught. Something gnawed at my heart, pulling me back from the sudden swoon I found myself indulging. Was I falling for a troubled noble? Was I ready to let down my guard to save a man whose life might be in danger? I crumpled the letter into a ball and tossed it into the fireplace. I tried again. My hand trembled as I slid the note into an envelope and sealed it with red wax. I found a merchant headed out to Magnimar, and gave him a few sovereigns to deliver the note to Aldern’s townhouse . The note simply read, “Be safe, dear Aldern. I must visit the Misgivings soon. I hope to meet you in Magnimar when the storm has passed.” I felt relieved and stupid, both at once. The next day, we traveled south again to revisit the Hambley place. Our route took us to the safe-house, where many families of the northern farms found refuge during the Ghoul Plague. As we approached Hambley’s farm, where we were met by several scarecrow-ghouls. We made quick work of our foes behind Vohoi’s spells. We found several victims pinned down to become ghouls and gave them grace. Other scarecrows were simply dismantled. We then turned our attention to the Misgivings. [/QUOTE]
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