An untamed frontier. Dark cults. Fickle fey gods. Ravenous fiends. Nothing black powder and sorcery won't fix... . Timberlands Campaign Diary
After a night of uneasy sleep, the heroes made their way down the pass through the Pond Peaks. The day proved hotter than expected with thunderheads gathering and humidity sticking to their skin. It wasn’t long before the clouds opened up in driving rain. The wet sheets blocked not only their sight but filled their noises with a noisome, unidentifiable smell. The ranger Wild suspected fey manipulation and reached out with his senses, but detected over half-a-dozen dragons nearby instead. The downpour let up some ten minutes later but the champions found themselves at the base of the Pond Peaks with the weariness of hours in their muscles and the same distance traveled. Rather than turn back to investigate the phenomenon, the party felt it best to continue forward. Likewise, the presence of dragons had dissipated just as suddenly.
The heroes struck out for the crossroads inn found at the southwestern edge of Hillsbrook Valley, the Apple Core. They found the sprawling building in terrible shape. Its western wing had been blown up with a smoldering crater in the middle. The rest of the structure was in shambles due to once-fallen boulders. The columned courtyard it was famous for was littered with broken marble and likewise-shattered corpses. Worse yet, a pair of seemingly-zombified steeds munched on the remains.
Opting for stealth, the heroes investigated the area. Siegfried looked over the corpses nearest a clump of toppled columns and discovered they were militia from the town of Milestone Fork to the south. The orders tucked away in one of their jackets read “Captain. Due to the unknown foe plague the valley we have contacted the local Nightveil order. However, we have no response though we are sure the message spell went through. Should you run into strong resistance, retreat to their tower posthaste for aid.”
Being a wizard, Siegfried recalled that the Nightveil were astromages who bound celestials and infernals to their service. He also made a grim discovery, several of the corpses were covered in gourd-like buboes and many had self-inflicted deaths.
Sykes, the rogue, investigated the carter. She found its sides littered with shattered Direfly hives and blood honey. However, swarms of the blighted insects still lurked within as well as the stench of burned gunpowder. The rest of the inn’s interior was in shambles. It appeared it had been barricaded from the inside at point before the explosion and rain of rocks.
The rest of the party picked through the courtyard rubble, all the while keeping an eye on the corpseshoes. The bodies about had the same gourd-like growths, which worried the nature cleric Eshkar greatly. Knowing they’d have to deal with the foul horses, the heroes ambushed and made short work of them. However, in doing so Sykes found her sun blade didn’t affect them as they would undead. Likewise, the buboes-covered bodies floated up, suspended by the growths as a crop of Bubonic Drifters, and assailed the heroes. It was a disgusting and protracted fight as the champions faced off against the undead horde and direfly swarms. However, the heroes prevailed.
After they discovered a journal of one of the healer-nuns from the nearby Convent of Quite Grace, the party also worried they might have been infected. The journal detailed the symptoms of what the sister recalled as Harvest Rot, a fell ailment from the feywild. Tucked in the book was a testimonial of how the Apple Core had come to be infected with the disease.
“He came in the night along with others, madmen all. His crown was broken with curling horns oozing red honey and buzzing with flies. His smile was broken, insane, and framed by a red-crusted beard. He raved outside about the reaping that would come. He screamed that this autumn would never end. Then he opened his cloak and from holes in his pale flesh the direflies flowed out and into through the windows! His disciples smashed their way inside, as they died several of us were spattered with pus and blood… by the next morning the contagion took hold.”
Exhausted the heroes decided to rest within the building. Wild the ranger and the bard Gwaedd investigated the countryside to ensure it was safe. They hoped to discover clues to what sort of siege engine lobbed rocks at the destroyed inn. Instead, they found tracks of churned-up earth that matched those of a treant. They recalled the treant they saved (session 1), Haw’s Throne, who’d been infested with direflies hive. The treant had told them that the insects were taking over his body and mind. The pair worried that a treant in the area may have actually succumbed to the waning court’s will and become a Deadwood.
As they rested, the heroes caught glimpse of a mangy lynx-like creature skulking around the building. This turned out to be a Bilge Cat, a fey creature with the name of Berichul. Berichul was escorting one of the nuns, Sister Ristea, as she tried to make it out of the valley and find aid. Alas, Sister Ristea had been attacked by fey soldiers which Berichul was oath-bound to serve. While the repentant rogue managed to slay the attackers she’d been injured and infected with Harvest Rot. With its dying breath, the fey commander ordered Berichul to ‘follow that human.’ The bilge cat twisted the meaning of the world follow to serve Sister Ristea instead. Berichul figured this was a way to get out from under the thumb of the waning court he loathed so much.
To everyone’s relief, Eshkar’s magic cured Sister Ristea of her illness. At least they had a way to fight the Harvest Rot. Sister Ristea relayed that the Convent of Quite Grace was under siege from a fey force. Over the last month, they’d had cases of Harvest Rot trickle into their care as well as rumors of a dark cult operating in the area. As more people grew sick, the valley community collapsed and the waning cult took control. It wasn’t long after that that the fey soldiers showed up outside the convent’s walls. Sister Ristea had snuck out via an escape route to find help.
Berichul filled in the rest. The fey was a platoon of Lesionnaires, lesser fey in the service of Lord Fallowfields, Duke of Autumn's End. The archfey had been previously stymied by Convent two generations past. Recently, a Grinning Herald named Sickle Smile, galvanized the local waning cult and taught them how to open gates to the feywild allowing squads of lesionnaires through. From what Berichul overheard, Sickle Smile had been operating in the Congressional Colonies for years now under the guise of a mortal noble sewing the means of the waning court’s return to the material plane. Sykes surmised that he must be the fey responsible for the destruction of the hunting retreat of Vinemoure a few days north of the valley that their former companion Orym spoke of.
As the heroes planned their next move, the dervish Riley kept watch. They witnessed their wagon horses outside shrieking and dropping dead. Only to have their flesh flay away and rise as a new pair of corpseshoes…
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