Dashing into the dimly lit hideout, Thalen, Krug, and Clegane quickly pivot towards the rabid barking of wolves to their side. They see two chained beasts beneath ledge. Standing above the dogs, they see two ominously familiar masks- made of jade and obsidian. Seeing their hideout breached, they yelled back to an unseen figure, “Go! Complete the ritual!” In response, three of our heroes begin climbing the rock wall to varying degrees of success.
Meanwhile, Birdie, Jack, and Marion charge up the back route- only to find it booby-trapped. Realizing the danger too late, they scrambled to turn around as their legs were swept up from beneath them by several tumbling logs.
]]>“You’re not like these wide-eyed folk. I can tell you’ve seen a thing or two, and know your way through these times. Stop by the Gilded Mare when you’re ready to rest and drink up. We have a… discount for people who know to keep a hand on their purse.”
Upon hearing that the alcohol of the city had not vanished, Thaelen immediately begins begging the rest of the group to stop for a drink. Having experienced the terrors of drying out once already, he pleads until their collective will is broken. They muscle their way through the crowds to a small, unkempt building and eventually force their way up to the bar. Not seeing any available places to sit, they strike up a conversation with their new friend.
“The name is Eothan. Eothan Millard. Looks like you wised up and saw how dire the situation is out there. Crazy with all that dragon business and what-not.”
Krug, distrusting off all except Jack, narrows his eyes into a concentrated squint, “What do you know about it?”
“Me? Nothing really. A bunch of fellas attacked the crowd, and one of them blew himself straight to the Nine Hells the way I hear it told. Were you all so unfortunate as to see it?”
Clegane shakes his head, “Nah, we’re just here on… business.”
Intrigued, Eothan leans in, “And just what type of business is that?”
Recognizing the obvious tell, Thaelen whispers, “Looking for what’s on the market. Information or otherwise.”
“I understand. You know, we just got some food shipped in yesterday, and I could use a hand carrying it up here. Would you bigguns mind helping me out? Might be able to make it worth your while.”
Jack, ever vigilant, prepares his book and quill. The rest of the party cautiously follows Eothan as he leads them through a back room, into a cellar, and past a few series of curtains. Eothan reaches into several bundles of straw and produces a few bolts of velvet, which he unrolls to reveal a small variety of illicit goods. As they glance through, the party sees several icons of darker faiths, vials filled with unusual powders, and three pristine silver dragon scales.
Birdie, in awe, asks, “Are those..”
“Genuine, my dear. I know a person or two or three.”
Jack, possessed by an unusual fervor, all-too-excitedly asks, “And what are their names?”
“A secret. You don’t stay alive too long in this game without secrets. These are rare finds, and with our present… situation, costly. Now are we talking, or are we talking?”
Thaelen drunkenly stammers, “How much for the scales?”
“Three thousand.”
“We obviously don’t have that with us here. Do you mind if sleep on it and talk to some of our friends?”
“I see no problem in it. A lot easier to trust if you all are staying here too.”
“For free?”
“Of fucking course not. Do you know how much I can charge right now? I’d be dumber than a doorknob to give away half my rooms for free. I can sell you three at a discounted rate. It’s one gold per room per night.”
The party bickers for a moment, but ultimate agrees. Eothan leads them to their rooms where they pair off and proceed to block all of the doors and windows they have. Despite the noise below, they’re able to get some relatively sound sleep. They quickly regroup the next morning, and almost immediately agree on their next steps: jumping Eothan. As the walk down the stairs, they see that every square inch of the Golden Mare has been rented out for “boarding.”
After a light breakfast, they reconvene downstairs with their all-too-trusting halfling friend. Pulled away from any prying eyes, Krug and Clegane immediately throw Eothan to the ground. Jack, filled with an unholy fervor stares down upon him, “So, about these friends of yours.”
“You know I can’t talk about it. You’ve seen what they did to the town, and can you imagine what they’d do to a poor, innocent soul like me?”
Clegane and Krug begin to press their collective weight down, as Jack makes an offer, “You don’t have to worry about them if they’re dead.”
Eothan stares at the group, paying the most mind to the hulking brutes shoving him into the dirt, and relents. “Fine, they’re holed up in Crooked Creek Knoll. It’s an old smuggler den about half a day straight west. Follow the first creek you encounter to the wood. When you get to the ol’ tree that was struck by lightning, follow that fork until you’re face-to-face with a cave. You take care of this, but never mention my name, alright? We’re friends helping friends here.”
The barbarians relent, and let the halfling jump back to his feet. Thaelen agrees to the terms, “Yeah, friends helping friends to some drinks, bitch.” He continues laughing to himself as the group gives him an estranged look. The halfling nods, and he charges upstairs to have his fill. The rest of the group eventually joins him, but are quickly distracted by a commotion in the streets.
Thaelen grabs their beers, and rushes to follow them. Despite the thick, dense crowds a sizable gap has opened up in the streets. The party shoves the way through the crowd, to see five soldiers in full suits of heavy plate mail. Their dark black armaments each bearing symbols of the God-Emperor of the Idravalli people. Leading their ranks is a steely haired grey human hulking over a tiefling man scrambling back towards a wall. In a cold even tone, the man brings forth his accusations, “You will submit to my authority. Tell me when you were first corrupted by these dark powers.”
The man begins to stutter a response, but begins choking on his tears. Thaelen, now too drunk to respond to the better judgement he alleges to possess, accosts the Inquisitor, “Ayy, you looking for them guys too?”
Stricken with rage, the man turns around, “I seek all who would obstruct our lord’s will. What allegiance do you possess with these heretics.”
“I, uhh, none? Just wanted to see if we could help.”
“Yes, help them. Plant the seeds of doubt in our investigation.”
Thaelen, now a mere inches away from the Inquisitor, does his best to maintain his composure, “Nah man, we’re all on the same side, right?”
Before he can answer, three of the local city guards come running up. The young man leading them calls out, “Lord Inquisitor, the palace wishes to remind you that you’re still within our jurisdiction. This investigation is our charter.”
“Very well. I shall respect your queen’s wishes, for the moment.” He walks away, and his acolytes follow him without question. As the Inquisitor walks away, he turns his head and stares deep into Thaelen’s soul. Disturbed by the entire encounter, Thaelen turns to the guard that intervened, “What’s up that guy’s ass?”
The young man, a human with dusty blonde hair, goatee, and the armor of a conscript, sighs, “They’re the representatives of the Idravalli Empire here for Lysanderoth’s passing. The queen insisted upon their presence as a sign of good will, but I knew this would happen. They’re dangerous, even to their own people, so I’d steer clear. Rumor has it the crazy one you were talking to burned an entire city to the ground as part of a murder investigation. Every day they stay here, they take over more and more of our work and resources. It’d be best if we got to the bottom of this quickly: people are getting restless.”
Jack slinks forward revealing his surprising charm, “Agreed! We should find those naughty ne’er-do-well’s and put them in their place. There’s a lead we’re following that could put an end to this. What do you say? Could you help us out?”
The man nods to himself, “Very well. I shall assist you on this quest. Marion Theodred, at your service!”
< Previous Chapter: The Five Claws | Next Chapter: Error And Trial >
]]>“Hey, friend. I’m sensing something pretty dangerous around here, have you found anything?”
“Maybe. What’s it to ya?”
“We’re trying to figure out what is going on here. We had a bit of a run in with these guys earlier.”
The halfling begins rubbing her fingers together in a small, circular pattern, “Is that so?”
Understanding the nuances of human communication, Thaelen produces a bottle of whiskey, “It is. Also, there’s something glowing with evocation magic in your pocket, so it’s probably safer for an… expert to handle.”
She pushes the bottle aside and produces a small, red bead with a pronounced crack running down the center. Thaelen looks at it for a moment, but the distinct lack of blood in his body leaves him answerless. They agree to take it back to the others, who have started to regroup. Thaelen hands the bead to Arminius, and asks him to identify it.
“Hmm, this is not of a divine origin, and does not bear the stench of Tiamat. In the past, the Harpers have turned to a local expert for such matters. His name is Ioctal, and you can find the Ivory Tower he works from in the District of the Lords. Let them know you’re operating under Captain Osterlen’s orders, and you should have no trouble getting in. While you’re there, could you have him take a look at this as well?”
Arminius digs through his pack and produces a torn segment of cloth that slowly changes colors from blue to green. Thaelen, nearly colorless himself, takes it without a word. Oddly cognizant, Krug asks if they know who is behind the attack.
“I assume it to be the work of the Five Claws- a band of Tiamat’s followers here in Ushazan. The metallic dragons are a symbol of everything they despise. As Lysanderoth watched over this plane for over a millennium, this would be the perfect time and place to send a message. I plan on visiting my old mentor, Patron Ytraz to see if he has been granted any divine clarity in this matter. Once you’ve finished your business with Ioctal, come find me at the Temple of the Platinum Dragon.”
With their plans agreed to, the party begins making their way into the walled city of Whitestone. As they push through the dense and frantic crowds of the District of the Commons, they see thousands of people scrambling to find food, shelter, and an escape from the chaos. Soldiers from across Eibellion stand guard, but represent their individual nations alone. Dignitaries and nobles hide between their armored ranks, leaving their less fortunate countrymen to the scrapes, thieves, and swindlers of Pebram’s Row. Recognizing the dangers of opportunists, Thaelen and the halfling keep their hands on their coin purses.
After meeting one of the guards they had assisted earlier, the group is permitted entrance into the District of the Lords. While everything remains in disarray, the reduced crowds make travel bearable. With some breathing room, Thaelen begs the party to go to the nearest tavern- but not to refill his supplies. An uncharacteristically worried expression crosses his face, and the break from his usual character gives everyone enough pause to agree.
They duck into the Golden Mare and find a table pressed in to a corner. Krug retrieves a few flagons from the bartender, and the rest lean in to avoid being overheard.
Thaelen stare into the middle of the table, seemingly staring through it. “I’ve seen that cloth before- the kind that changes color. I found some work in Sharn, somewhere in the Empire. Long story short, a group of cultists had taken a hostage and we were hired to investigate. They were hiding out in a theatre, and had an altar to Tiamat as one of the props. One thing lead to another when the fight broke out, and in the middle of it all one of my crossbow bolts ended up hitting a butler who was laying on it. The cultists that were there are probably the same ones here. I don’t know much about it, but I know it’s called Shimmerweave, and it was worth enough to buy my way out.”
The party sits in awed silence, as the faint scent of burning parchment catches their notes. Jack, detecting less than savory behavior, has furiously recorded Thaelen’s every word and action. The halfling nods along, “So, what you’re saying is that these cultists have even more of this. Plus, we’d be helping to root out an international organization. I bet the queen would reward us handsomely.”
Thaelen agrees, “Surely she would. Actually, I never caught your name, and I never work with anyone without knowing their name.”
As a single tear rolls down Jack’s face, she answers, “You can call me Birdie.”
The dwarf Krug had been oogling earlier gives a sweeping thumbs up, “And they call me Clegane.” Everyone else introduces themselves in turn, and begins debating how much pay they’ll receive. Over the next few rounds, they make plans to use Krug’s false decree of nobility to introduce Birdie as a long-lost relative of the Queen. Thaelen will act as her butler, and charm anyone that begins to become suspicious. From there, they will barter with the Queen as highly skilled adventurers for better pay.
A few quick words later, and they find themselves in the ornate a closely guarded Cloudtop District. As the large gates close behind them, they see a familiar face walking towards an ornate cathedral. “Wonderful, you came back from Ioctal quickly. What were you able to learn?”
A moment of silence falls over the party, before Krug grunts “We skipped that.”
Arminius sighs heavily, “Well, in any case, I suppose you can come with me to see Patron then. He may be able to answer some of your questions. Follow me.”
Arminius leads them across an immaculate garden towards the cathedral’s dark gates seated beneath several beautiful stained glass windows. As the doors swing free, several priests begin making their way out with bandages and food. The church is overflowing with various attendants, paladins, priests, and worshippers organizing relief efforts. A calm, yet heavily aged voice is organizing them from one of the upper balconies. They follow Arminius up a flight of stairs, and meet an elderly golden dragonborn bearing ornate robes.
“This is Patron Ytraz, a deacon of my faith. These adventurers are investigating everything that happened today. We were hoping to share in your wisdom and any divine insight you may have had.”
“You already know who it was, Arminius. The work of Tiamat can’t hide from these eyes of mine. I imagine you would also recognize the mark fo the Five Claws too. The only real question left is who helped them evade our defenses.”
Out of curiosity, the group asks what the Five Claws are.
“A bunch of cultists that want to see a five headed dragon back on the Material Plane. They used to be scattered, but everyone, including them, has been on edge lately. The miscreants have hands in just about everything too.”
“I agree. With their connections, they’re formidable and well-equipped. They had some arcane contraptions that I assume were smuggled in. We’ll need to visit Pebram’s Row.”
Fully agreed, the party makes their way out of the Temple of the Platinum Dragon and immediately heads towards Ioctal’s tower. An open door greets them to an almost empty room with an ornate stone floor and a small orb resting on a pedestal. As they approach the orb, the floor springs to life and raises them towards a small spiral staircase. Feeling invited, they walk up towards a large, neatly organized arcane laboratory. A figure in ornate white robes with golden trim floats between piles of books and mysterious vials. A hollow, yet warm voice fills their minds, “Greetings. What brings you to my Ivory Tower?”
He turns to greet them, but the low lighting casts a shadow over Ioctal’s face, completely obscuring it from view. Thaelen, in awe of the resources before him, is the first to speak, “Uhhh, we found this and wanted to see where it came from.”
After a few minutes of examination, Ioctal explains that they are in possession of a cracked Bead of Fireball. The wizard assumes the rest was detonated as part of the attack, and a structural flaw in this particular bead kept it from firing as expected. He offers to dispel any of the lingering magic, as it isn’t stable; however, Thaelen keeps it while chuckling to himself, “You can’t kill a man who is already dead.” Most of the party stares in wide-eyed horror, and Jack notes this down as well. Ioctal then explains his protections at the Cerulean Lyceum would have alerted him, so it must have been smuggled in some time earlier. Knowing this, he recommends they search out any local fences and ne’er-do-wells, as it would have been difficult to accomplish with such high security present without local contacts.
The party thanks him for a time, and tries to leave, but Thaelen asks Ioctal about his alma mater: the College of Izzet in Abberion. Ioctal has a long working relationship with the college; however, he has little memory of the past. In general, he has found it to be a solid program, and much of their research has uncovered major breakthroughs. Thaelen thanks him for the info and offers a swig of ill-begotten wine. Ioctal declines, stating it would do little for his current form. Thaelen, bewildered by the concept of abstinence, asks why. Ioctal pulls his hood back, revealing empty robes, and apologizes for any social transgression he may have committed. The party, thoroughly freaked out, returns to the platform and descends back to the city streets.
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]]>Simply put, “You can’t grep dead trees”. When you’re in the middle of a session, it’s very difficult and risky to rely upon paper notes.
1) It’s obvious what you’re doing, and, much like the clamor of dice behind the screen, can alert players to start meta-gaming. 2) It pulls away from the immersion of the session by taking time away from potentially critical moments 3) Paper can fall victim to spilt drinks.
On the other hand, digital searches are instantaneous, and provided you treat your digital assets well, impervious to single points of failure. Plus, if you’re truly addicted to the feel of pen and paper, they’re also printable. While there are many tangential benefits to organizing yourself digitally, the inability to lose things to carelessness and the efficiency of instant lookup are too good to pass up. I still use paper for quick notes/decisions I have to make on the fly, but they’re converted to bits as soon as I am able to.
While Dungeons & Dragons is a hobby popular for nerds like me, its recent growth has expanded far beyond the reach of software developer archetypes. If you are familiar with Markdown and git, feel free to skim or skip ahead. If you’re new to or shaky with the above, continue on.
As you’ve browsed the web, you’ve more than likely encountered the letters html. The HyperText Markup Language contains all of the content you see on a webpage, along with the rules on how it should be formatted, where links should go, and information for browsers and search engines. Your browser renders this code with help from stylesheets to display the useful, formatted information. This is different from tools like Microsoft Word that display the result of applying your formatting rules as you edit the information. If you make a sentence bold, Word will show you a bolded sentence and hide the information it uses to store that format. In a markup language, you add special tags to indicate what special formatting rules you’d like to apply and the display engine will remove them as they’re applied to text.
Markdown was built as a simple way to write html, and is clean enough to type by hand without having to know much about the underlying technology. It’s a very common format that’s supported by WordPress, GitHub, and many forums. Several publishing companies even use it to manage their content, and have published guides for authors. If you’d like to learn the basics, there are many great guides online. If you prefer to learn by trying, there are live edit websites (often called fiddles) for trying it out. Here’s what a block of one of my session recaps looks like in Markdown:
Left without the cash needed to secure a room for the remainder of the night, Sif decides to earn some gold the old-fashioned way.
He eventually finds Gadriel studying a large pile of maps by candlelight.
In a very long, haphazardly assembled series of slurs, Sif brings the elf up to speed.
1. **Gadriel's Mineral Acquisitions** will be fully staffed after Aryn and Grok make the return trip with the rescued miners.
2. Sif watched Grok "smash gobbies" and thinks he's a hero deserving of a raise
3. "Some spider guys want you dead as fuck buddy"
And this is the rendered text:
Left without the cash needed to secure a room for the remainder of the night, Sif decides to earn some gold the old-fashioned way. He eventually finds Gadriel studying a large pile of maps by candlelight. In a very long, haphazardly assembled series of slurs, Sif brings the elf up to speed.
As you can see, the formatting takes up little space compared to the written text, and lacks the portability issues of formats like .doc and .odf It’s slim enough that I use Markdown for most of my digital note-taking, but in a very specific way. As you may have noticed in the code block, each sentence takes its own line- which is ultimately changed and displayed as a sentence of a paragraph. Markdown does not require this convention, but I personally use it to track edit history by sentence. git, which we’ll talk about soon, creates a change log by line edits, and a sentence is the smallest grain of detail I want a history for. Additionally, it makes reading/writing much easier on a vertical monitor.
Most of us that grew up with computers during the haydays of wildly unreliable software know the mantra “Save early an often.” If you’ve ever lost a computer to an electrical failure or another physical catastrophe, you also know how quickly you can lose massive amounts of work. Between git and GitHub, you can give yourself protection in both cases. Obviously, you could store your notes on Microsoft’s OneDrive or Google Drive, but I prefer having a local and a remote copy.
1) The current search features within the remote solutions above don’t give contextual results, unless everything is in a single file 2) Their support for large, single documents is lacking 3) Organizing each session into its own file helps convert plans into recaps
Git can be a little dense to learn at first, but there are a treasure trove of guides and how-to’s online to get you started. This is one that can get you in the door quickly. GitHub is a free-to-use remote repository for git. It provides the long-term resiliency for your writing, and, if you set your repository up the right way, it can convert your session notes into web pages you can share with your players. To do that, you’ll need to spend some time configuring a repository, and learning a little about Jekyll.
]]>Still fearing for their lives, they withhold this information and press onward. Within the week, they finally arrive to a quaint and picturesque village on the Barovian coast. With some of the costal breeze, the worst burdens of winter are lifted and everyone appears to be in a better mood. Krug begins scouting for the largest person he can find, assuming that is a distinct characteristic of those in charge. Surprisingly enough, this pays off. A supply boat has been chartered to Elenmar in the Buxswell Dutchie, and if they’ll help load the vessel, they can earn passage too.
After a few hours of honest labor, they hit the open seas and begin the long journey north. Over the next few weeks, Krug attempts to learn how to sail as Jack reads up on the state of the world. Thaelen, left liquor-less, is forced into a spiritually, emotionally, and physically draining state known as “drying out”- Arminius glaring over him the entire time. After a few days, the party, unsure what to do with their time, explores the ship and finds a prisoner being transported to the Harpers. Despite his advanced age, the shackled Drow, is surprisingly in-shape and his scars tell of a life’s worth of experiences. He introduces himself as the thief Juib. Jack asks him about his crimes, and after learning the man was arrested for stealing food for children, leaves a note in his book.
The remainder of the journey passes peacefully, and they eventually find themselves in the port city of Elenmar. As they disembark, they ask Arminius where they will be headed and what they’ll be guarding. He points towards a large citadel in the center of the town, “First, we must go and speak with the Harpers. They’re organizing the larger mission we’ll each be helping with. Have you heard of them in the past?”
“Not really,” Jack replies.
“They are good people, and help those in need. In this case, we’ll be helping the dignitaries and diplomats of nations across Eibellion pay final respects to the dragon Lysanderoth. After more than one thousand years, the protector of our realm will be ending his watch and passing on to the Halls of Order to join Bahamut.” The party contemplates this as they continue to the heart of town; however, not all is grim. A warm summer breeze and the fresh scents of flowers lifts their spirits. The protracted hours of darkness and blisteringly cold temperatures had worn Krug ‘n’ Krew down more than they had anticipated. While wandering the streets, they take in the sights of normal life: children chasing each other in the streets, craftspeople demonstrating their skills and wares, and the hustle and bustle of civilization.
Now in the center of town, the buildings have shifted from pleasant hillside cottages to dark stone buildings of worship and law. They press open the massive cathedral doors bearing gilded crests of harps. The mixed mission of the Harpers is apparent from the interior. Four shrines dedicated to their core deities adorn four of the six turrets, and the final two house swords, shields, and the common gear adventures would need. A large, heavy oak table overflowing with maps, reports, and requests is place in the center. Several knights watch their leader, a short woman with fiery red hair, walks through the most recent orders she has drawn up for the region.
Arminius briefly introduces the party as temporary help for the next few days, and then drags Thaelen to the stations of worship. Jack, Krug, and Tlareg snicker as their almost zombie-like wizard is yelled at. The captain, Marie Osterlen, begins to lay out the job our not-so-brave party has been tasked with.
“With such a historic occasion upon us, the Queen has called in as many soldiers as we can properly recruit. Thankfully, with so much international attention and talent in the area, we’re not expecting much excitement. We’re stretching ourselves along the many side roads leading to Whitestone, and the formal army will be watching the main paths. Your duty is simple. For the day before through the day after, keep watch and report anything suspicious to us as quickly as possible. There may be a few locals around, but be on guard for anyone suspicious or armed.”
Krug nods along, “What if we find someone? And they start giving us trouble? Can we, uh…,” while pointing to his halberd.
Jack agrees, “Yeah, we just want to be crystal clear with how in our rights we are to… defend ourselves.”
“Certainly you are well within your rights to defend yourselves, but the Harpers aren’t in the business of starting fights. We’d rather prevent them, and, if we cannot achieve that, we end them. Our continent has known peace for some time, and some of Eibellion’s greatest warriors will be paying their respects.”
Jack gives the thumbs up, “Got it. Now, where do we need to be?”
“The path I’ve chosen for you sits just along the hills to the southeast. It’s about a two days walk, and you’re needed there by the end of the week. We have capacity for you all to rest here, and have enough supplies to outfit you for your time. When all is said and done, simply return back here and your service will be complete. If you need anything else, Sir Bertrand will be able to help you.”
Thaelen, freshly shown the wonders of religion, returns to the group, and they decide to head out into the town. Curious about the state of affairs in the new, strange land, they dive into the alleyways to glimpse real life. Most of the streets are cleaned and the people generally seem happy; however, they eventually find posters decrying the “New Gods.” Jack takes one of them, and folds it up into his book. As he does, a pair of drunk human men chide them. Ever eager to spread the good word about his patron deity, the thin man whips around and strikes up a conversation.
The pair rebuke him at first, but eventually wear down and provide some answers. During the calamity between the second and third ages, several deities born during the Everdawn met their end. At the same time, new gods and daemons rose to fill their ranks; however, worship did not immediately follow. Many are skeptical of entities such as Bahamut, Grokkush, Tiamat, and the God-Emperor of the Idravalli. With no historic context, no proof of power, and no trust established, common folk are left wondering how and if their lives will improve. Groups like the Harpers were quick to include members of the new pantheon into their daily worship, but most aren’t convinced.
With thorough notes recorded, Jack thanks the men and reminds them that they ought to be nice. Satisfied with the information, the party returns to the Harpers for food and rest. Additionally, each of the party members manages to accomplish a few personal tasks. Thaelen takes the opportunity to bring his BAC back to healthy levels. Krug attempts to learn from Sir Bertrand. Jack requisitions some good, strong rope.
The next day, Krug ‘n’ Krew make their way to the narrow pass they’re meant to watch: a thin dirt road cut into the hillside. Seeing few avenues other than the present path, they decide to man alternating shifts to cover a bend in the road. Most of the time is uneventful and quiet. Jack and Tlareg stare off into the distance and watch the outlines of tents and seating get constructed on the rolling meadows before Whitestone’s gates. They’re temporarily disturbed by a man passing with a cart of vegetables, but after (literally) poking around with their blades, they give him the all clear to continue on. During the next shift, Krug paces in circles while Thaelen drinks himself to sleep.
As they begin switching the guard again, they take a look out over the hills and through the woods at Lysanderoth’s funeral. Even from their great distance, they see masses gathering to mourn the passing of their ancient protector. As their eyes focus, they see an eruption of orange light as several Fireballs erupt in the crowd. Seeing the threat, the adventurers leap to their feet and begin sprinting towards the capital. After running for nearly two miles, they run headlong into three suspicious individuals headed their way: two woodsmen and a strange, cloaked figure with a mask made of pearl. The party orders them to halt, and fighting shortly erupts.
Krug and Jack charge forward towards the cloaked figure, who responds with a Shocking Grasp. Tlareg and Thaelen use their Create Bonfire and Magic Missile spells to the rangers at bay. After trading blows for a few more moments, the masked man uses Inflict Wounds to bring Krug to his knees as a few loose arrows cripple Thaelen. Conjuring the might of his benefactor, Jack unleashes a chilling Hellish Rebuke disintegrating the cloaked man as a hollow laugh rings in their ears. Suddenly terrified, his two subordinates begin fleeing but barely make any distance before getting cut down. Everyone takes a moment to compose themselves before looking for clues. Krug pokes through the cloaked man’s remains, and only finds a few torn patches of Shimmerweave, several silver dragon scales, and a slightly cracked pale white mask.
Recognizing the need of those in Whitestone, the party limps forward to find disorganized chaos. Harpers and clerics alike are tending to wounded, and guards are doing their best to guide fleeing civilians to safety. The group eventually find Marie organizing the relief, and Arminius tending to the recently passed. They admit they were blindsided by the attack, and know very little themselves. To their knowledge, a man wearing a mask like the one Krug found shattered a strange necklace before the blast. During the confusion, they lost track of that man and his associates, and are trying to get through the immediate chaos to begin investigating further.
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]]>Sensing Strahd’s magics, Thaelen pulls into a dark corner to conjure a Minor Illusion. As the rest of the party charges out of Strahd’s laboratory, they hear his voice echo out, “Stand down!” Unaware of the sound’s origin, Tilman, Cecilia, and Tlareg cower in fear. Jack and Misha, having wielded similar spells before, charge into the battle. The warlocks let out a barrage of Eldritch Blasts that crash into the unholy machination. Undeterred, Strahd’s unwilling servant strikes back with a flurry of slashes that nearly cut down the half-orc before him.
Realizing the party’s situation, Tlareg regains his senses and joins his comrades. Thaelen follows him, conjuring a barrage of Magic Missiles that harmlessly bounce off of their target. As the fight continues, the cries of distress and fear ring out through each of their minds. With each successful blow, the distortion grows and grows; however, the Helmed Horror’s combat abilities are undeterred. Pinned in a corner, it lashes out with two skillful strikes that knock both Tlareg and Krug unconscious. Misha dashes forward as Thaelen and Jack cover her with Ray of Frost and Hellish Rebuke respectively.
She begins to pour a potion down Krug’s throat, but the guardian of Castle Ravensloft intervenes. The great sword swings down, and a sickening shriek rings out as her life is taken from her; however, her sacrifice was not in vein. The moment of distraction buys just enough time for the remaining casters to strike their foe down. As the now-dormant fragments of plate mail strike the ground, a soft whisper rings through their ears, “Thank you.” Using the little medical skills they have, they manage to revive Krug and Tlareg and smack the members of the Belgrave Consortium back to their senses. Panicked, the group decides to flee and regroup later.
Krug ‘n’ Krew limp back to Brasov to rest for the night. As they enter, they motion to the bartender to keep quiet and slip him a silver piece. They cross their fingers, and hope Bemril, or any other agents of Strahd that may be around, haven’t noticed their journey. After tiptoeing down the hallway, they each find the sweet embrace of sleep.
The next morning, Thaelen and Tlareg sneak into Jack and Krug’s room to discuss their plans. Within seconds, they agree to find Six and ditch Bemril as quickly as they can. From their, they reason that since much of the down fears Old Ravensloft, they may be able to squat in one of the old buildings. If they can stay hidden for one more night, they can meet Tilman and Cecilia again and plot their next steps. Fully agreed, they stumble their way downstairs and find Six and Bemril patiently waiting at one of the dining tables- their eyes diligently trained on the staircase. The normally brash and terse half-orc seems strangely at peace, and an uncharacteristic smile crosses his face.
Bemril waves to the party, “Come friends, let us join in a fine breakfast and enjoy the fruits of Master Strahd’s lands.” The four share a knowing glance before slowly making their way over. Thaelen semi-convincingly laughs and tells them, “It’s a little early, so I better get a drink.” Six and Bemril laugh along, and watch the half-elf stumble over to the bar. Jack, recognizing the move, sweeps in and asks how their card game had gone the night prior. Thankfully, it provides enough of a distraction for Thaelen.
He slides another silver across the bar, “Hey man, I need something real strong this morning.” The bartender nods, and begins pouring Maltört. “So, uh, you’re from here. Do people ever get too friendly out of nowhere?” The glass slides across the table, as the bartender gives a silent, solemn nod.
Dismayed, Thaelen returns to the table as Bemril begins planning out their day. “We could visit one of the many libraries in town, or continue visiting the wonderful people across the countryside.”
Jack nods, “Yeah, meeting a lot of people in a big, well-trafficked part of town would be good. Somewhere very public.”
Six responds in an oddly chipper tone, “Yes, there are many fine shops we passed by in the square. Perhaps one of the nice eateries that Misha mentioned.”
Bemril gleefully claps, “Oh yes, that would be quite wonderful. Where is she now? Sleeping in?”
“Something like that,” Thaelen stammers. She’s not feeling too well, but would want us to have a good time. We should let her rest.”
With a look of odd concern, the drow whispers, “Perhaps she caught a cold last night. We should contact one of Strahd’s doctors to look after her.”
Jack quickly interjects, “Oh no, it’s more of a flu thing. Just needs to get it out of her system, you know?” A tense air settles over the table, but Six and Bemril eventually agree to leave for the day. They wander around the shops and sights half-heartedly, pretending to be blissfully ignorant of the terrors they had witnessed the night prior. The citizens each greet them with kindness and share Bemril’s infectious passion for their nation. Even the bartender from the Elderstone Haven greets them warmly. Fearing their safety, the four sane members of Krug ‘n’ Krew begin plotting their escape.
As the day comes to a close, they return to Brasov and hatch their plan. They ask Six and Bemril to fetch a card game and flee into the night. The fresh snow and driving blizzard make travel difficult, but they find the strength to sprint back towards Old Ravensloft. Eventually, the four come to a small, abandoned home. While most of the building has given way to years of disrepair and the damage from the fire, a few central rooms remain relatively undisturbed.
They agree on a watch shift, and do their best to rest. As they sleep the howling winds crash into the ancient walls of their makeshift home, threatening its stability. Strange sensations run down the spines of each member, and their dreams are invaded by strange, contorted nightmares. Thaelen awakens in a cold sweat, having seen some horrifying image from his past. With shaking hands, he draws the image from his dream to remember it for the next day: the five-pointed star of Tiamat.
They wake in turn, and pull together their few remaining rations. It’s barely enough food for a reasonable breakfast; however, starvation would be a far kinder end than one waiting for them beneath Strahd’s rule. The spend the day in solemn silence, contemplating the loss of their two comrades. Jack and Thaelen flip through a small atlas they had purchased the day prior, wondering if any safer shores existed in Eibellion. They share their plan with the other survivors, and plot their escape from the cursed land.
As night falls, they slip back into town and find the address Tilman had shared with them. They knock and Jack begins speaking in a low, guttural tone. A slot jerks open right above the ground, and a small mirrors slips out. Thaelen kicks it, and they hear a terrified screech on the other side. After explaining their situation in primordial, they hear a series of locks, bars, and chains come free. The door swings open, and they a greeted by a seemingly abandoned house. A small, white kobold wearing goggles and heavy work gloves peers from behind the door, and points them downstairs.
The party winds their way through the dark home, and into a small nook in the basement. Tilman, Cecilia, and an almost entirely unconscious man greet them. The human, adorned in patchwork furs and three days of unkempt facial hair greets them, “Your the lot that fucked with Strahd’s old armor, right?”
Tilman glares at the brazenly drunk man, “We’re so horribly sorry about everything that happened. We knew investigating Strahd would be dangerous, but we were unprepared.”
Tlareg scoffs, “Yeah, you can say that again.” Thaelen takes the opportunity to share a drink with his kindred spirit.
Ignoring the criticism, the gunslinger continues, “That being said, we’ve begun to uncover Strahd’s true plans. There’s a red thread connecting the portraits, that armor, and the strange disposition of everyone in this country. We need to act quickly, or it may effect us too.”
Jack begins shaking his head, “Let me stop you right there. This is way over our head, and we need to get out of dodge.”
Cecilia takes offense, “This is your home as well as ours!”
“Yeah, and I’d rather not have it be my grave too.”
Frustrated, Tilman continues, “We’ll need help continuing this work. You are good people, and we have allies. This is a time for unity!” As he speaks, the shaking of metal armor begins ringing and heavy footfalls emanate from the stairs.
Thaelen, staring through the table before him, speaks to nobody in particular, “I’m not so sure about that. I think I did something bad in the Empire. I don’t know what really happened, or what I may have done, but… But I think my soul is bound to Tiamat.”
Queued to the sound of the daemonic name, a sword unsheathes and comes inches from Thaelen’s face. The party sees the vengeful fury of the paladin of Bahamut they had met in Trostenwald: Arminius Wintergale. “Is that so?” he scowls.
Within seconds the party is nearly at arms, but Thaelen talks them down, “I don’t want to be! I’m afraid of it and want that shit gone.”
Tilman on the verge of tears of defeat sighs, “Well, if you will do no good, I suppose it’s best you do no harm then.”
Arminius nods in agreement, “I will escort you out of this place, but on one condition. You will come to purify your soul through service to Bahamut. I will entertain no objections to this.”
The party, seeing few other options, agrees to his demands. They discuss the details for a few moments, before setting off with Arminius. Tilman and the Belgrave Consortium will use the information and resources the party gathered to help the people of Barovia. Krug ‘n’ Krew will follow Arminius to the Buxswell Dutchie in Ushazan to cleanse their souls, and assist the Order of the Platinum Dragon in some upcoming guard work. With their minds set, the party splits off and heads towards their new destiny.
< Previous Chapter: The House of Strahd | Next Chapter: A Simple Job >
]]>1) Don’t be a dick. I shouldn’t have to elaborate more.
2) The Metagaming Pigeon is always watching.
3) Take good notes. If you need a hail mary memory spark, you can try one as a Wisdom Saving Throw; however, the DC ramps quickly.
4) Currently legal player options: Player’s Handbook, Xanathar’s Guide to Everything, Volo’s Guide to Monsters, Tal’Dorei Campaign Setting Guide, Eibellion Campaign Setting Guide (Anything on my website or DM’s Guild page). If you want to play something outside of these options, work with Nick.
5) If you miss 3 consecutive sessions without detailing your character plans (barring extreme exceptions), your character will be dead, missing, or mind-controlled.
6) Describe your actions. Creative solutions to difficult problems are rewarded. Example: Sif fell asleep in a tree that caught fire. To avoid being burned alive, he cast Create Food and Water to douse the flames.
7) Inspiration can be granted for a variety of reasons: cool RP moments, finishing your character’s back story, etc.
1) Drinking a potion is a bonus action. Force Feeding a potion is a full action.
2) The first resurrection/revivify/etc. automatically succeeds (barring any ruling from the DMG/PHB, like Counterspell). After that, it becomes a group skill challenge, and the DC ramps quickly.
3) Once you fall beneath 0 hp, keep track of damage into the negatives. To regain consciousness, you must heal back above 0 hp. You may still be stabilized, but this does not bring you back to consciousness. If you ever take your full hp in the negatives, you die.
4) If your character is drunk, spell attack rolls are made at disadvantage. AoE and saving throw spells either grant the target advantage on the save, or follow Warhammer 40K’s rules for missed grenades.
5) A character making a skill check does so on their own. If another party member is reasonably skilled in that ability, they may describe how they’d like to assist, and grant the original character advantage. If more than two characters are involved, it is automatically a group check.
6) Vicious Mockery and Tasha’s Hideous Laughter deal double damage if I genuinely laugh.
1) You can’t wish for anything that would break the rules set forth in Aladdin. This includes any means of circumvention in SMBC.
2) The Deck of Many Things does not exist.
3) Barrels are the most broken item in the game.
]]>The next morning, Thaelen is awoken by the sounds of scratching beneath the floorboards. In his fast and loose manner, he decides to pull back a few of the floorboards and finds a litter of newborn mice. After a brief moment of consideration, he ensures that no future infestation will occur through a judicious use of his boot. He drags himself downstairs, shows the bartender his bloodied boot, and asks if he can get paid for his services. Disgusted, the dwarf agrees, and throws Thaelen at least two days’ worth of drinking money- if he’ll clean his boots before wandering around the bar any more.
As Thaelen completes the task, the rest of the party agrees that their collective coffers are running dry. For the remainder of the day, the party completes several odd jobs around town- repairing an old shed, clearing a few walkways of snow, and helping hauls goods into a store. In return, they manage to recoup the costs of their travels and then some.
Eventually, they all return to their home base, and decide to spend an evening sober in preparation of their big day. Unfortunately, they are not granted restful sleep. Howling gales of wind send shutters crashing against the windows. Strange lights in the distance plague Krug and Jack with feared memories of their meeting with Cortessio. Warped dreams and nightmares disrupt those who manage to shut their eyes.
The group sleeps late into the morning. A few hours behind what they had intended, the rush back to Edderson’s Clothiers to retrieve their order. As they approach, they see the elf watch them from between the blinds. He slams the door open, shoves their orders in their hands, and begins hurrying back into his business. Thaelen, suspicious of all who breathe, shouts, “Hey hey hey hey hey, we gotta check and make sure we got everything first.”
The elf shouts over his shoulder, “I’ve made sure that you do so your visit may be as short as possible.” Satisfied with the answer, the party rushes back to begin preparing for the evening. They take turns bathing and getting dressed, and ensure Bemril’s attire is suitable for a servant as well. Dressed to the nines, the party climbs back in their cart and head towards their dinner.
The road leads out of town and winds up the soft face of the hill upon which Castle Ravensloft stands. As they approach the outer gate, it swings open and Krug ‘n’ Krew see the parked carts of their fellow dinner guests. A few servants rush out to help Bemril tie up the animals and offer him a chance to stay in their quarters until dinner has finished. One of Strahd’s assistants personally takes the portrait back to the castle to inspect. The rest of the party is reacquainted with the elderly gnome that had granted them this audience. He rushes them indoors and leads them down a lavish corridor of marble and at the rear of the line of guests for that evening’s celebration.
The booming voice of one of Strahd’s aides rings through the castle, “Now announcing the Lord and Lady Mazyr and Elma Kovel.” A pair of older, red tieflings steps forward arm-in-arm and walk into the dining hall.
There is a moment of silence before the next guest is called, “Master of the Hunt Dorek Tuzla followed by the Lady Zoya Szolnok.” The party watches a mountain of a goliath, eclipsing even Six and Krug, steps forward leading on a far shorter human companion. Of all the guests, Dorek is the least formally dressed; however, an impressive pelt of a past quarry stops most from saying, or even thinking, about questioning the stylistic decision.
“Now seating The Lord and Lady Andrei and Nadia Lauciene.” A human couple steps forward and saunters through the door, knowing exactly how good they look.
The party now stands at the door of Strahd’s dining room. A long, elegant ebony table is beautifully decorated with fine linens, pristine silverware, and flickering candles. The walls a filled with deep violet drapes spaced between paintings of the former lords and ladies of the land. A large fireplace crackles behind the tall, vacant seat at the head of the table.
In an uncharacteristically loud voice, the gnome calls out, “The distinguished guests of honor: Tlareg, Krug, Misha, Six, Thaelen Melrose, and Jack Skelet.” The party enters to smiles and nods to their accomplishment, and stand ready to be seated in the center seats on either side of the table. A moment of refined silence passes before the gnome calls out for one final time, “Finally, our sovereign lord: Count Adrianus Vladimir Tepes Enderson Strahd.”
A tall, stern, human man powerfully strides into the room. His face sharp, gaunt, and carrying the wisdom and intelligence of the ages. A slight silver sheen runs through his hair, but, despite the signs of his age, he carries a youthful vigor in his step. His garb speaks of sophistication, with deep purple offset by vibrant red patterns. Around his neck he wears an amulet of a raven’s skull- a symbol of his title and nobility. As he sits, maintaining his stoic silence, the servants hop to life, and begin serving the first course.
The party is treated to the finest cuisine in all of Barovia, beginning with a crimson bowl of borscht topped with cream. Noting their host’s silence, Krug ‘n’ Krew begin polite conversation with the nobility of Ravensloft. Krug and Thaelen take particular interest in Dorek, and ask him about the prey he has hunted over the years. The goliath is overjoyed, and recounts wrestling an owlbear to the ground in his youth. Awed by the feat, they attempt to earn his favor by offering the services of a hobbit servant. He agrees, and offers to show them his collection of sporting trophies at an unspecified future date. Krug and Thaelen sit in a silent panic, as they slowly remember that Bemril is actually a drow.
As their conversation dwindles, a second course of a simple yet refined cucumber salad is brought out. Jack takes the opportunity to speak with the Lauciene family. After paying his social respects to Strahd’s generosity, he asks for their insight into the state of Barovia. He sits through non-answer after non-answer, and finally presses the subject, “So, I can’t help but wonder about the spirits just past the city gate.”
A bead of sweat rolls down Andrei’s face as he begins stuttering an answer. The party notices as an early silence takes over the room. The count glares from the corner of his eye at the man, and his wife immediately answers for him, “Whatever do you mean dear? You can’t possibly mean those specters from the stories they tell children.”
Recognizing the situation he’s in, Jack backs off and alters course to polite conversation. Thaelen applauds Strahd’s taste in wine, and the tension is cleared enough to resume eating. The remaining courses, steeped in Barovian tradition, include roasted pheasant, braised boar, and napoleonka.
As dinner concludes, the elderly gnome brings the rescued portrait to his lord. The remaining servants leave the room, shut the door, and the faint click of a lock sends chills down the spines of the party. The count stares deeply into the eyes of his long-lost beloved. For the first time in the evening, Strahd’s velvety yet powerful voice is heard, “I suppose it’s overdue that I thank you for this service you’ve done. Ever since poor Tatyana left this world, I have been at a loss. Thank you for returning a piece of her to me.”
The party silently nods, afraid to interrupt their host.
“Now, you all have come to see my lands- this nation I rule over. What is it that you’ve seen? Tell me, what do you think of my Barovia?”
Jack is the first to speak, “It has been a while, but it’s always good coming home.”
Thaelen, as tactfully as he can, continues their response, “It has been good, my lord.”
Sensing their hesitation, the count presses them further, “And have my people treated you with all due dignity and respect?”
Walking the fine line between directness and impoliteness, Jack responds, “Most have, my count. There were a few rebels, but they have been dealt with. The other dangers on the road were a bit more concerning.”
“Of what dangers do you speak?”
Krug, unaware of anything that would constitute as “social minutia” pulls two fragments of the mask of a shadow hound they had faced earlier, “This.”
Strahd turns to face the party, and leans forward, “And why would you consider such creatures to be a danger?”
Jack, in a mild state of confusion respond, “My lord, they’re roaming the countryside, and have attacked us on two occasions.”
“Have they now?”
An uncomfortable silence passes.
“These hounds find themselves drawn to my lands, and you assume an ill intent. Tell me, during these attacks, were you in the presence of those who would do my nation harm?”
Confused, Krug ‘n’ Krew mutter amongst themselves before their slim and spindly spokesman responds, “In one instance, yes. We did not know the others as well, but it is possible.”
“So, you’ve walked alongside the enemies of this land, and have seen the land strike back? Do you believe I am ignorant of the dangers my nation faces? I know of this rebellion, the ever-present threat along the Idravalli border, and the dangers beyond that. Many stand against Barovia as our foes.”
“I… I understand, my lord. You have shown your strength in the past, and I am sure you will again. These lands have been safe because of you.”
“As a child of this nation, will you rise to defend it?”
“Of course, my lord.”
“And your compatriots? Will you stand against the threats our people face?”
Thaelen speaks up, “Yes, we want nothing but good for your people.”
The rest of the guests lean in, examining their potential allies. “This is good to hear. Are you willing to pledge your very souls to Barovia?”
Beads of sweat roll down each of the party members’ faces as they consider Strahd’s words. Misha and Jack feel the faint whispers of their pasts roll through their ears. Thaelen shakes off the memory that drove him from the Empire’s lands. Krug swallows a lump in his throat.
Jack eventually stammers, “I.. I would give anything my lord, but I can’t swear my soul. It has been promised elsewhere.” The rest of Krug ‘n’ Krew mumble quick excuses, as Strahd’s face turns from stern to disappointed.
“Hmm. So it is. It appears you lack the will necessary to claim power. I will thank you for your sacrifices to Barovia, but the rest of us shall be… retiring for the evening.”
Their senses are overwhelmed by dread, anxiety, and fear, and the party stands, and shuffle out to the courtyard. They find their cart pulled up, and see Bemril standing at attention, ready to swing the door open for them. A strange smile crosses the face of their once unwilling companion. In a voice filled with an unusual calm he recounts the generosity Strahd’s servants had shown him. The rest of the cart shares in silence.
As they return to Brasov, Bemril continues to show uncharacteristic enthusiasm and joy. The still-shaken party feints exhaustion, and tells Bemril that he’s earned himself a better bed. Six and Misha lead Bemril up to their room while the rest of the party uses the opportunity to discuss their plans.
Tlareg, suspicious of the entire situation, asks the rest of the group, “That guy’s not all there, is he?”
Jack, recalling several incidents from his childhood, answers, “Well, there have been rumors of people visiting the count and returning… changed. He is known to be very persuasive.”
Krug, still frightened, stares into his cup while muttering, “I don’t like it.”
“Me neither,” Thaelen agrees, “and I bet that’s what this Tilman guy is looking into. We have to meet up with them tomorrow night and get to the bottom of this.”
The group nods in agreement, but Jack poses a question, “So, what do we do with the drow? I don’t know what happened to him, but he’s a liability.”
Krug lifts up his halberd, “I can fix that.”
Tlareg catches the top of the weapon and pushes it down, “Not so fast there buddy. I’m pretty sure the count will be pissed if we kill one of his boys.”
Jack agrees, “We can’t kill him, because then we’ll be hung as murderers. We can’t run back to the Empire, because then we’ll be hung as spies. We have to play along and be smart. That one guy Thaelen talked to said we’d have to be careful.”
Krug ‘n’ Krew contemplate their options for a minute, before agreeing on a plan. They’ll spend the daylight hours working odd jobs again, this time with Bemril. After the long day of work, Six will convince the drow to call it an early night and then watch him from their room. The rest of the party will then sneak out the windows of their rooms, and sneak through town and towards the remains of the old Castle Ravensloft. From there, they’ll try to make contact with Tilman and discover what has befallen Barovia. With their fates decided, they catch as much sleep as they can.
The next morning goes as planned, and after a long day of work they give Six the sign. “So, Bemril, you put in some good work today. Really helped the people out. How about we go back to our room, enjoy this wine, and call it a night?”
“Oh, I would hate to miss out on whatever we’re doing next. I love seeing what you all end up doing, and how you’re investing yourselves in the people here.”
Thaelen talks through a long yawn, “Sorry buddy, but I’m beat too. I think it’s about time we hit the sack.” The rest of the party agrees, and, one-by-one, head up to their rooms. Bemril eventually agrees, and follows Six to their shared room. Misha, Jack, Thaelen, Tlareg, and Krug wait in silent anticipation for nearly an hour before sneaking out the windows. Thankfully, the large mounds of accumulated snow give a convenient landing zone from the second floor.
Obscured by the darkness, the party slinks and slips through Ravensloft and eventually finds themselves in what used to be Barovia’s capital. Most of the buildings have long since collapsed under the weight of snow and distress of thoroughly burned out foundations. The sorrow and loss is palpable in the air.
The party eventually crosses paths with two humans: a young man with a pristine brown coat, glasses, and salt-and-pepper hair, and a blond woman in red robes bearing an amulet of Nar, the goddess of light. After realizing they’re not alone, the man fumbles around for a slip of paper in his pocket, and reads it off in a confused voice, “Is there a … Johnny Twelve-Fingers in town? He owes me a gold and a copper for a kettle? For the love of the gods what does that even mean?”
Thaelen, recognizing the call, shouts back, “Yeah, he stays out back with the lady and her ladder.”
The pair read over the note, and shrug. Walking forward, he extends a hand, “Greetings! I am Tilman Berner, and I believe you know our mutual associate Werm. He wrote down that whole mess, and ensure that you’ll know what it means.”
“Yeah man. He said you’d have some answers about what’s going on here, and that you knew Dalzos.”
“We’re acquainted, and share a mutual interest for the time being: the safety of our home. He might be paranoid, but he’s right on this one I’m afraid. As a representative of the Belgrave Consortium, it’s our sworn duty to look into such things. I’m afraid for the future of this country and my home. Oh! Forgive my terrible manners, this is Cecilia Baade.”
The woman smiles and waves, “Good evening. The Allmother’s gaze has also fallen in this direction. We’re hoping to find more answers in the old castle. We need to learn more about Count Strahd and his past.”
The party introduces themselves, and brace themselves for the dangers that lie ahead. Strahd’s old home is mostly intact, but the upper level of the castle is almost entirely destroyed. The gate is little more than charcoal, and gives way with the slightest push. The party raises their weapons as they creep forward, their every footstep echoing out. While ravaged by the years, the castle still holds much of its former elegance and glory and bears an uncanny resemblance to the modern equivalent.
The party focuses their attention to their left, and quickly find themselves in a small parlor. As they walk into the room, Jack notices a pristine rug in the center of the charred floor. He walks forward to investigate it, and is snatched up by the Smothering Rug. Tilman fires his flintlock pistol through the rug, and also Jack. Realizing the danger his friend faces, Krug swings his halberd but faces the same predicament as Tilman. Thaelen quickly hatches a plan and utilizes Magic Missile to pepper the safest openings. The darts just manage to save his ally, and Cecilia rushes over to heal him. “Be careful dear, I can only do this so many times.”
Fully recovered, Jack continues to investigate the room. He eventually finds a small puzzle on a dais, and begins solving it. As the last piece slides into place, they hear the grinding of stone as a the path to a secret rooms opens. They find themselves within an old, hidden study that had been sheltered from the original fire. The old, cobweb laden bookshelves contain tome after tome detailing the known history of the Shadowfel, the rise and fall of the Great Barrier, and the three prime divisions of magic: the elemental, the religious, and the arcane. Thaelen also finds a few spell scrolls and a fine tunic in Krug’s size. Tlareg snatches up a yellow diamond the size of his fist while Tilman, Jack, and Cecilia flip through several of the books and Strahd’s notes.
Determined to learn more, the party continues through several more rooms. During their escapades, Krug begins dancing to a tune that only he seems to be able to hear. Jack discovers a few hidden hallways and peepholes that would have allowed Strahd’s servants to spy on his guests.
Eventually, they make their way down to the castle’s dungeon. In the warden’s office, Jack reads the ledger of prisoners as Thaelen jimmies the lock to the cell rooms. The last entry details a man who had been arrested for murdering children in a few outlying villages. Horrifying and gruesome details underscore the gut-wrenching nature of his crimes. The entry ends with the man’s last words- violent and desperate pleas of “I’m nice! I’m nice! I swear I’m not naughty.” A chill runs down Jack’s spine.
With the cell doors open, Krug ‘n’ Krew proceed deeper and deeper into the jail. The skeletal remains of the inmates continue to serve out their sentences in chains and manacles. The slight shuffling of feet sets the party on guard, as they are attacked by three plagueborne zombies. A burst of magic abilities quickly tears them to shreds. As the party investigates their remains, they discover these poor, unfortunate souls had once been the castle’s guards. Strange runic circles have been tattooed into their flesh, and one carries a large ruby eerily similar to the yellow diamond Tlareg had found. Having exhausted all of the pathways, the party explores the last section of the castle: the upper floor.
As they make their way up the tight spiral staircases, they feel the freezing chill of the winter wind. Most of the rooms and shelter have been destroyed. They conclude the fire must have started nearby, and the bedrooms are now mostly filled with charcoal and snow. One room, which appears to be the master suite, is almost entirely intact. A pristine statue of Lloth and an ancient suit of armor have survived the decades, but most of the other furniture has been lost to time.
Tlareg stares at the statue for a moment, and is puzzled why its eyes have been removed. Jack, recognizing what is happening, takes the gems they have found earlier, and inserts them into the sockets. With the key in place, another secret room is revealed - Strahd’s arcane laboratory. The room is disastrously messy, with maps, ancient texts, and personal notes scattered around; however, they barely notice. Tlareg, Thalen, Jack, and Misha stare with a combination of horror and confusion at a collection of no less than 15 portraits adorning the walls. Each appears to resemble the painting of Tatyana they had found earlier: the same half-smile, the same tight, curly hair, but a different woman. The fifteen women each bear a striking resemblance to one another, to Tatyana, and to Gertruda as well.
A strange chill enters their very bones, and they help Tilman scoop up as many useful looking notes as he can carry. Jack grabs a few magical items, gems, and a potion. Krug, left unattended, continues to stare into the armor Strahd himself had worn into battle against the Idravalli Empire. Struck by his beauty, he raises a single hand and extends it towards the cold metal as his feet forcibly dance beneath him. He does not understand why, but he feels connected to the beautiful craftsmanship before him. As the two connect, the horrifying sounds of twisting metal echo out into the room.
< Previous Chapter: An Invitation | Next Chapter: In Service of the Master >
]]>ISSUING AUTHORITY: Inquisitor Farnsworth, Ordo Hereticus
AFFECTED WORLD: HEREJIA, CLASS ETA
After the events on Manufactora, Ordo Ineptus began sifting through the dataslates and intelligence collected from the Mago’s office. After two days, the only clue they found was an increase in the number of slaves being requisitioned from a neighboring planet, Herejia. According to records held by the Administratum, these souls, selected in the Emperor’s holy name, were to be turned into servitors. Production was scheduled to skyrocket over the last 3 months, but the investigation revealed no increase in output.
To this end, the crew traveled to Herejia, losing only two days in the warp, and landed in Hive Haarken on the 10th level’s ship yard. The crew didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary, so they began to look for a ship on the slave requisition forms: the Pequod and her captain Ahab. Ishmael located the ship within moments, and deferred first contact to Tony. Talking to the captain, Tony was able to determine that Ahab had been delivering the slaves to a representative of Magos Trynbilt on Herejia. When pressed, Ahab admitted it was unusual to hand the trade off to a third party, but the contact had the correct paperwork for the Imperium. Combined with the fact it saved on the Pequod’s fuel cost, he didn’t press the matter.
Additionally, he said that every requisition form was submitted to and approved by the local Administratum office, so everything appeared legitimate. With this in mind, the group spent 6 hours traveling up to the Administratum office, and thanks to Gob’s flattery, they were able to get a copy of the requisition form for the next slave shipment. The requisition form was nearly twenty feet long and mostly nonsense to the predominantly illiterate squad; however, they were able to determine that the exchange would go down on the 4th level in a rarely used shipyard.
The gang found a room for the night in the middle of the hive. After a quick rest, they continued down to check out the shipyard. As expected, it was abandoned- save a scattering of individuals scavenging for things to sell. The group talked to one of these scavengers, and learned the ships normally use the middle two landing pads. Additionally, the territory was now being shared with a group known as “The Truth.” The scavenger found the group mostly harmless, but tended to steer clear of their religious doctrines.
This lead Ordo Ineptus to seek a tracking device to locate where the slaves were being dropped off. Luckily, a second-hand shop was nearby. The friendly shopkeeper sold them an old tracker and some adhesive, but lacked the demolition charges Tony was after. With their shopping complete, they returned to their hotel to prepare their equipment- time predominantly spent rigging an old grappling gun into a mechanism that would fire the tracker.
The next day, the group returned early in the morning to hide among the abandoned crates on the launch pad. Tony and Ishmael patiently hid in several crates, and Jakes and Gob trained their sights on the area. For the next few hours, they waited in silence, until two shuttles landed. A strange group of men wearing unusual pendants emerged from one craft, and began exchanging payment for slaves with Ahab. As their business concluded, and the ships began to part, Tony lined up the shot with the grappling hook. The shot landed perfectly; however, when Tony tried to pull the tether free, he lost his footing and was ripped towards the edge of the dock.
Ishmael quickly drew his knife to cut the line to save him, but swung too greedily and narrowly avoided severing his ally’s femoral artery. Shocked, Tony dropped the grappling hook and skidded to a stop near the ledge. Within moments, Jakes was able to bend the Warp and knit Tony’s flesh back together. A few apologies were made, and the gang tracked the shuttle to the second level of the hive in an abandoned warehouse district.
Ishmael whipped out his magnoculars, and watched a group of people enter one of the warehouses. He discerned they used the pendants as proof of their membership. After activating the thermal spectrum scanner, Ishmael detected an unsettling number of heat sources in the warehouse. Gob suggested they acquire a few pendants for themselves to sneak in, and driving down the road until they found someone willing to take them to a church service that would “enlighten them to the truth”.
The four followed his directions to the church and were greeted by an all too nice man at the door. The church appeared to be bombed out and heated only by burning trash in oil drums, but appeared to be structurally sound. At this moment, they were formally welcomed to the Church of the Truth. Inside, a huddled mass in tattered clothes listened to a sermon emanating from a man standing behind a strange altar with a man strapped to it.
As the group made their way inside the church, they heard words of enlightenment through pain. “The truth of reality,” as he said, “is life is nothing but suffering. To truly understand the truth, one must experience the worst suffering possible and find freedom in it.” He also said that soon the planet would learn the truth, through the teachings of the Traveler. A lesson that would spread across the world like a wildfire. At the height of the ceremony, he swung a blade down and cut the heart free from his sacrifice.
While the cultists began to rise to receive their blessings, the gang spread out. Tony, unaware that Ishmael was attempting to signal the party to fan out, pulled out a lasgun and let the shooting began. The two men at the front of the church began manifesting fireballs, while the group starting to pelt them with small arms fire. Ishmael used a grenade to blow up a majority of the cultists, and Tony was able to kneecap the preacher. When the firefight died down, Ishmael began to interrogate the strange man, who told him that the truth would be revealed to the world and the Traveler would continue his march to oblivion. His hand slid down his side as he threatened Ishmael, “You will be able to see the truth a little more quickly.” The heretic drew his pistol and shot at Ishmael, who managed to dodge the shot and knock the gun from his hand. Not liking this much, Ishmael got out his brass knuckles and began to take his stress out until his foe’s head was just a lump of broken bones and viscera.
Continuing their investigation, Jakes used his powers to rip the recent memories from one of the Chaos psykers. He learned the man had been a dormant psyker until a red giant touched him and expanded his mind. Jakes saw a world wreathed in flame, and visions of a mind stretching out into the stars.
The group grabbed the pendants they needed, used the rags from the cultists to create disguises. From there, they went back to the warehouse and were given entry with no questions asked. Tony took the initiative, and asked the door guard where they could find their next orders. He pretended to have just finished sweeping a ship for any tails or trackers, and was looking for something more interesting to do. They were pointed to a large, rusted ladder with bowed rungs- as if they had been bent under tremendous weight. The guard informed them they could speak to the Traveler directly.
As they went up, they got a full view of the rust bucket of a warehouse. The group found an enormous open space sparsely filled with crates labeled “Meat Substitute: Human Grade” and large prison pens filled with hundreds of people bound with penal legion collars around their necks. A contingent of guards meandered around, and at least four more psykers kept watch over then pens. They eventually encountered a pair of guards watching over a door. After a moment of scrutiny, they contacted their boss and instructed them to wait a moment for the Traveler to arrive. Roughly one moment later, a giant comes out from the door; 3 meters tall and covered in red spiked power armor. The metal is carved with strange symbols that make their eyes itch and brains scramble. Jakes faints immediately. Gob begins sobbing, rocking back and forth, and scratching at his face. Tony takes a half step back in fear, but is otherwise unfazed. Ishmael can’t bring himself to look at the giant, and stares at the floor.
The Traveler tells the group that they should begin collecting more sacrifices before the ceremony begins and tells them to be on their way. He reminds them they had better arrive on time tomorrow if they wish to see the glory of the truth, and witness the maw of Chaos devouring Herejia whole. The agent of Chaos peers Ordo Ineptus over, and is pleased they are awed by his power and wisdom. The two sane men grab their two broken compatriots and drag them away. They eventually regain their senses, and make it back outside and to the car. In that moment, they bond through the shared experience of a small mental breakdown.
They decide to call this in immediately. Ishmael, whipping in and out of the Hive’s traffic, drives them to the Lexicanum in record time. Jakes sprints in, and sends a message back to the Emperor’s Holy Inquisition with their findings. His mind, still reeling from the sights of Chaos, sends immense ripples out, through the astropathic choir. As he regains consciousness, he sees the remnants of their bodies still bound to their stations. He quickly vomits and hurries back to his companions. While waiting on a response, they return to their hotel and suffer a nightmare laden rest.
They return the next morning, and the recently hired astropaths have detected an encrypted message for Jakes. They learn a backup detachment is on the way, and a few hours later an Imperial strike team picks them up from the 10th floor spaceport. During the flight, Gob asks if the fire team had encountered the legions of Chaos before. The lieutenant has personally killed a Chaos marine before, but lost six of his original twelve men in the process. Ordo Ineptus collectively shivers, and spends the rest of the flight in contemplative silence.
The team uses their ‘credentials’ to enter the warehouse again, and, when greeted, Gob and Ishmael rip the man in half with silenced gunfire. Following their instincts, the squads fan out. Jakes and Tony take the high ground, while Ishmael and Gob dart between the crates to the right. From their elevated position, the pair begin to line their sights up on the Traveler; however, they are quickly forced to improvise after the ‘elite’ strike force knocks over a crate while getting into position.
At this point, all of the Emperor’s fury rang out in a hurricane of bullets. The Traveler leapt down from the second floor, and began stoically walking through the gunfire. Tony and Jakes convinced him to some cover with a few well-aimed potshots, and he began to charge into the fray. In each holding pen, psykers began throwing out fireballs, attempting to kill as many sacrifices as they could. The team realized they must be attempting to start their profaned ritual early, and the snipers quickly changed their targets. The cultists traded fire with the strike team while Ishmael flanked on the right.
Eventually, the cultists charged into melee range and began to wail on the soldiers; however, the hardened veterans did not break. That is until the Traveler joined the fray. One of the soldiers deflected a blow from his roaring chainsword- only to be bisected a moment later. The soldiers held their ground, attempting to fight back while the rest of the squad peppered the Chaos Space Marine with lasfire. Gob eventually found an opening, and throw a fire bomb at the marine. The agent of Chaos was immediately wreathed in flame, but the marine fought on.
Simultaneously, Tony and Jakes managed to maim the psykers well enough that a rather strong slave was able to beat the heretic’s face to a bloody pulp. The pair continued to pick off cultists, but unfortunately they weren’t quick enough to save the strike team they had travelled with. The Traveler and the sole surviving cultist then turned their sights upward. Jakes and Tony made a last-ditch effort to fell the giant, and, if it weren’t for the beast’s incredible speed, they would have succeeded. The Traveler lined up a shot and fired his bolt pistol at Tony. The boltshell tore though a crate and a solid steel barrier along the catwalk, and it ripped Tony in half. The round also struck the ammunition and grenades he had been hoarding, causing them to explode.
The upper catwalk and Jakes were ripped apart in an 8 meter wide storm of fire and steel. Both men, vaporized by the expanding fireball, were now free to return their bodies and souls to the Emperor. The Traveler, pleased with his kill, turned his attention to Gob and charged forward with his chainsword arcing through the air. Remembering his fallen comrades, Gob and Ishmael dug their heels into the ground and stood firm against the force of Chaos. They unleashed a stream of automatic fire, that ripped several fuel lines apart on the Space Marine’s armor. The leaking gas met the flames of the earlier firebomb, and burned the heretic alive. The gunfire died out, and they were the last free men alive in the warehouse- the small crackling of flame the only noise breaking the silence.
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