Upgrade your account to a Community Supporter account and remove most of the site ads.

Reply to thread

Message: <blockquote data-quote="gideonpepys" data-source="post: 7228425" data-attributes="member: 79141">Session 22 (145) - Bonds of Forced Faith TeaserNB: If this reads strangely - or is a bit too detailed and long, considering the tangential nature of this interlude - that's mainly because I just copied and pasted chunks of readaloud text from the adventure and added a few references to what happened to our group for good measure.  I include it here for completeness' sake.  (An abridged version would simply read, 'we ran the teaser'.)The year is 400AOV.  In the sleepy fishing town of Flint, Mayor Roland Stanfield leads a band of inexperienced militiamen soldiers in a desperate attempt to root out a coven of witches from the Hunchback, a mountain that looms over the town.  Stanfield doesn’t hold out much hope, having already failed (and died) before, but his pleas to the king have fallen on deaf ears, and his only other choice is to do nothing:You’ve ascended halfway to the peak, and you can see the evening lights of Flint below. You’re nearly to ‘the hunch,’ where the thickly forested mountain grows suddenly rockier and steeper, but you can already hear the drums and wailing chants from the summit. A great fire burns a thousand feet above you, and for a moment your mouth waters at the rich scent of boiled meat, before you remember it’s probably human flesh they’re cooking up there.This mountain used to be called The Hunchback. Now the locals are calling it Cauldron Hill. Mayor Stanfield and forty more armed men go to rescue the hostages, because you at least are brave. For years, your King refused your calls for help, first too busy with his war across the sea, and now too busy signing an armistice after he lost. Every one of you has seen a friend kidnapped, or a wife, a son, a parent. For decades it was rare, rare enough that people dismissed the stories and preferred to ignore the witches. But these last few years while the soldiers were away, the coven grew bold. A dozen more were abducted just last night, and if there’s a chance you can save them, you’ll not let fear stand in...A sudden movement.There is a rustling sound in the trees overhead, and a cackling woman’s voice pierces the silence. When you look back down, one man is on the ground, blood pouring from his belly. Another half-dozen are already running. The cackling swoops over them, and one man flies up off the ground screaming, pulled into the tree canopy. All around you all you can see in the dark are trees, brush, and steep slopes to falls of hundred feet or more, where it sounds as if he's being eaten alive.One man mutters an imprecation.  Another whispers, “It’s all right for Stanfield, he gets to come back.”  (Privately, Stanfield wishes he could share the horrors of his previous death at the hands of the coven, even though it would only shatter their morale:  At least they only have to die once!)  Another man tries to be brave, and gives a rousing speech in a quavering voice that undermines his intention.The pulse of a magical glamour is felt.A man running beside you stops suddenly, begins to weep, draws a knife, and then jams it into his throat. Another man shrieks and shoves his companion off the nearest ledge. A gust of cold wind brushes the back of your neck, and a voice starts to whisper into your ear, telling you to fling yourself off the mountain before the witches can steal your soul.Another foul spell assails the group: a cluster of soldiers standing in a ring, their swords brandished bravely, begin to cough blood and fall to their knees. You still can’t see any attackers, just chaos and confusion and screaming.You hear a scream twenty feet away as shadows reach out from the backside of a tree, grab a man, and pull him tight against the trunk, crushing the life from him. Tree branches leap out and grasp others, those who moments ago were brave witch hunters, but now scream for salvation. Wet, mulchy fingers paw at their faces, thorns rip at their skin, blood dribbles down their arms. Shadowy humanoids as high as your waist detach from the night and surround the surviving warriors. They leap upon them, pull them down, and drag them away screaming. The din of pandemonium dulls, grows quiet, goes silent. The mayor stands alone. The horrors of Cauldron Hill seem to have spared him intentionally. Torches light up the forest. No. Burning bodies, some wailing. Silhouetted by flames, a trio of female figures walk slowly toward the mayor. Two of them hang back in the shadows, softly chanting, but one steps close. Her black hair cascades down to a dress the colour of a scab, so tattered it looks like it’s been through battle many times.Though resigned to his fate, Stanfield makes a resolute thrust with his short sword.  The woman in red makes no attempt to evade the blow.You plunge your sword through the exposed pale skin above her heart, striking what should be a killing blow. She rolls her eyes, shoves you back into the brambles, and drags the blade out of her ribcage with a grunt. No wound is left behind. She drops the sword with a muted clang and draws a rusted, jagged knife from her dress. It’s still stained with blood from the last time you saw her.“Sisters,” she says, “you can have the others. I’ve grown fond of killing this one.”The knife’s teeth saw the flesh of your neck open. Your blood pours down her arm. She holds you up by your jaw with unnatural strength, as a her dark fey underlings begin gnawing on your fingers, calves and forearms. Your vision darkens. Your limbs slacken. Your last sensation is hearing your men still screaming as they burn.</blockquote>

Verification