An untamed frontier. Dark cults. Fickle fey gods. Ravenous fiends. Nothing black powder and sorcery won't fix... . Timberlands Campaign Diary
As weary as the heroes were after solving the puzzle in the ruins of Enuk’Lun, there was still much to do before the morrow. The party trudged back through the late-evening thunderstorm. Lightning split the sky above their heads and the rain came down in sheets. However, the tabaxi ranger Wild kept them going in the right direction despite the violent pelting. Hours later they arrived back at the Nightveil tower. Ghottle, the lesser mage of the Nightveil, got to work straight away on her stone golem. Isebrand, the greater mage of the Nightveil offered the champions a warm bath and soft bed. As is often the case, no rest for the wicked meant no rest for the good. The heroes knew they had to gather up as many allies as they could before the forecasted arcane torrent tomorrow. They suspected that the waning cult would use the rare, but powerful weather even to tear open permanent portals to the feywild. If that happened then the warhost of Lord Fallowfields, Duke of Autumn's End would flood into the mortal plane leaving ruin in their wake.
The party set out into the violent storm once again.
This time they angled toward the mercenary garrison nestled in a small strip of hills just off from the valley’s central road. They knew that the sellswords were under siege from the dark fey as well, but hoped they’d be able to free up the forces within. While they had what remained of the Milestone Fork militia back at the tower, they were but injured craftsmen and farmers, not trust soldiers. The mercenaries, the heroes figured, would be invaluable in recapturing Hillsbrook Valley.
As they neared the road, however, the party happened on a vardo parked along the side. The rather plain looking wagon had an awning over its strong bonfire that protected it from the rain. Before the light source sat a huddled, cloaked figure facing the flames. Gwaedd expressed unease that the lone traveler would be camped here, unmolested by the lessionaires that patrolled the road. Sykes snuck closer and noted that the vardo was empty and dark. It appeared the figure was alone. So, Gwaedd the bard approached and greeted the figure. There was no response.
The otter folk swallowed back fear and called out as he drew up next to the cloaked figure. He could barely make out a hint of gaunt features beneath its hood. The rest of the heroes drew weapons and readied for trouble as Gwaedd reached out and touched the traveler. The cloak collapsed, revealing a desiccated corpse riddled with dried-out Direflies and chunks of dead honeycomb. Eshkar, the nature cleric investigated what magic might have slain the figure and determined it to be necromancy. He also realized some sort of protective spell was on the carriage.
However, Sykes the rogue didn’t detect any sort of trap on the door. That isn’t to say that there wasn’t one. After the eladrin popped the lock her form magically shrunk down into a chinchilla. With a squeak, the now-rodent scurried out of the rain and into the under-seams of the vardo! It took some coaxing from Eshkar to get Sykes the chinchilla out. During that time the rest of the party investigated the wagon. Using a key Gwaedd discovered on the corpse they unlocked a chest within, recovering a variety of potions as well as indications that the woman who owned the vardo had been a necromancer.
By then the magic on Sykes was dispelled and Riley the dervish noted that the vardo’s horse had become a corpseshoe at some point, only to then be slain by necromantic magic. With no further clues to uncover and a sense of dread, the heroes continued on. They reached the mercenary garrison in the dead of night.
Save, no one within the palisades was asleep. The fey forces were assailing the walls complete with Lesionnaires, Bilge Cats, and Lesser Deadwoods. Leading them was the Knight of the Threshing Floor, an errant Waning Chevalier serving Lord Fallowfields. The arrogant fey knight shouted an ultimatum to the mortals within, if they did not surrender before the last raindrop, he’d personally keep them alive and suffering as direfly hives ate them from the inside.
The champions weren’t going to stand for that. Sykes smuggled a note to one of the fort guards to let them know to be ready to be relieved. Then the heroes boldly struck at the heart of the dark fey host. They chose to engage the Knight of the Threshing Floor directly. As Eshkar surrounded them and the black night in a wall of thorns, Wild sank two arrows into the fiend’s back. Gwaedd rushed the knight directly while Riley and Sykes took care of the bilge cat escort.
Things looked like they were going well at first. Wild’s first shot took off one of the Knight of the Threshing Floor’s arms. Save, the limb started to crawl and attack on its own! Gwaedd’s first attack missed the chevalier. The fey’s supreme arrogance and resulting quip shook the valor bard. The rattle to Gwaedd’s resolved resulted in his subsequent strikes being all the clumsier. Another attack took off the knight’s other arm and worse yet, the noble fey’s wounds were sealing as quick as they were struck. After trading blows and barbs with the heroes, the noble fey willingly stepped backward through the wall of thorns, shedding more pieces. More importantly, it cut him off from the champions.
Eshkar quickly dropped his spell. The party found that the mercenaries had rallied and flooded from within the garrison to engage the fey host. Despite this, the closest squadron of lesionnaries and support creatures were posted to overwhelm the heroes. Gwaedd’s use of a hypnotic pattern miraculously ensnared every last one of these lesser fey. That left only the Knight of the Threshing Floor within range.
Alas, the foul commander had yet to run out of tricks. He disappeared in a swirl of dark magic and at the same time, the knight’s lost limbs rapidly swelled before exploding in a rain of bright, orange toxin. When the knight reformed, he was had all his arms and legs. The heroes threw themselves at him with renewed fury. Riley, the dervish finally managed to run their rapier through the Knight of the Threshing Floor’s heart and put the dark fey down. While exhausted, the heroes stood side-by-side with the mercenaries until the fey host routed.
Given the horror the soldiers of the waning courts had inflicted across the valley, though, Eshkar wasn’t about to let them retreat. His magic caused the plants in the lesionnaries’ path to rapidly grow and bog them down. A fine slaughter followed.
In the aftermath, the party spoke with the garrison commander; a bear folk woman named Adelga. She and her second-in-command, a man named Alwin Boltbrand, explained they’d lost a good deal of their forces trying to relieve the Convent of Quite Grace and have been more or less trapped her ever since. She gave directions to a fey circle of the Golden Court to the north, but pointed out they are usually aloof of mortals and may be inclined to ignore the whole affair. Lastly, she pointed out a plated meliuscore den in the area, where a mated pair of the megafauna monstrosities lived, and suggested the heroes avoid it. The exhausted heroes settled in for a much-needed rest and to plan their next move.
Time was running out.
Comments
Post a Comment