An untamed frontier. Dark cults. Fickle fey gods. Ravenous fiends. Nothing black powder and sorcery won't fix... . Timberlands Campaign Diary
After a brief rest in the ruined dryad grove of Old Elery, the troupe of heroes continued on. As before, scouting the route ahead fell on the shoulders of Shinasha, the rabbit folk paladin. Aboard her mount, the griffon Hibou, Shinasha along with the rabbit folk artificer Freya, soared over the fields between the champions and their destination.
The pair found the mostly harvested farmland and the oxen ranch’s livestock infested with a dire-fly blight. Transformed into rage-filled Hexen, the oxen’s painful, wet bellows filled the air as the herd roamed aimlessly about looking for something to kill. Unless the party went far out of its way, they’d have to go through the profaned animals.
Shinasha’s route took them further south, along the roadside harvest festival that had been so bright and gay. Now the tents were bent askew or trample altogether with dozens of bodies spoiling in the sun. It was plain where the Hexen herd had vented its anger first. It looked as if the goods of the festival had been turned over. Carts were spilled open, trunks upended and crates smashed. The heroes had little hope of finding the magic items to fuel the Arbor Juggernaut (Session 30) here.
With a grim sigh, the rabbit folk turned their flying steed toward the fine Longnail Estate. The dwarven-made structure had suffered a cataclysmic fire recently. Its stone structure was scorched and blackened with windows blown and naught but ash within its windows. The smattering of a village around the gutted manor was in better shape, but its populace was not. Dwarven zombies lurched through the streets, their open mouths oozing blood honey and crimson lights.(Reskinned Ghasts) However, they never spotted any manner of autumn fey across the land, just patches of windswept leaves. The waning court had long since won the day here, but where had they gone?
As the pair turned their path back to meet with their fellows, Freya’s keen sense caught a deliberate glint of light from one of the manor’s upper windows. Someone or something was trying to get their attention. Soaring closer, they spotted a soot-smeared dwarven woman with an antique spyglass. The woman frantically waved them down to her window.
The griffon was too big, however, to fit on the scant windowsill. So, Hibou put down on a nearby arch and the rabbit folk simply hopped over. The dwarven woman, a housemaid named Uta Bronzebuckle. She was dressed in ill-kept leather armor and carried no weapon. Uta urged them to be quiet, lest they wake the ‘ashen dead’ on the levels below. It was still daytime so they were sleeping, but up here they should be safe. Uta motioned them deeper into the house and the heroic pair followed.
Uta introduced them to her employer and lover, Khandra Longnail who was in terrible shape. Khandra still wore the rendered remnants of her chainmail armor with a blood-soaked bandage on her side and missing most of her right arm. The poor woman was pale and feverish with infection. Thankfully, Shinashe was able to soothe her with lay on hands and Freya clear the infection with Lesser Restoration. Over the next little while, the dwarven women told their tale.
Khandra had grown jaded with the harvest festival as it drug on, as she did every year. And as expected she, Uta, and their closest friends traveled north for a few days fishing and hunting to get away from the hustle and bustle. One night, they caught sight of the great blaze of their home and rushed back. By the time they returned, all but the expert stonework was burned away and her family had perished. Worse than that, they’d risen as some sort of undead horrors along with the rest of the dwarven villagers. Clearly, something had corrupted the family’s herds as well and the harvest festival was in shambles. Khrandra and the others grabbed what extra arms and provisions they could and struck out for the Grim-Faced Bridge. Surely the famous paladin there, Ser Silvercrown, could help them.
Given that Ser Silvercrown had been corrupted by foul magic as well, things didn’t go so well. The dwarves didn’t stand a chance. Khandra lost her limb and was maimed early in the fight, and Uta drug her away as the rest of their friends died. She retreated back to the manor because she’d hoped to find some medicine to save Khandra’s life. If the heroes had not come along, though… neither dwarf spoke further of it. The rabbit folk decided to take the two with them, using Flight spells and the like, and quickly quit Longnail Manor. As they did, a curl of crisp wind and dry leaves curled after them like a grasping hand before falling away.
Once reunited with the rest of the troupe; Nayth the eladrin echo knight, Gwaedd the mustel valor bard, and Cedwyn the mustel shadow sorcerer; the rabbit folk filled in their fellows on the details. They also set up a camp along with a tiny hut for Khandra and Uta as they were in no shape to go adventuring. Khandra did inquire though as to Shinashe’s prosthetic arm of steel and gears. The rabbit folk paladin pointed out that Freya had made it for her after a catastrophic fight and perhaps in time the artificer could help her too. That brought the dwarf some comfort, as did the brandy offered out as well as fresh bandages and further healing. Gwaedd also brought up why they were in the area in the first place. Not only were they investigating the troubles that had befallen the region, but they were looking for magic items to power a war machine that might help slow the dark fey advance.
Uta pointed out that the Longnail heirloom, a unique weapon called the Runic Arquebus, hung in the entrance hall of the manor. Given its magical nature, it likely had survived the fire. While it was a cherished artifact, it wasn’t one that Khandra planned to use. If its sacrifice would support the effort against the forces that destroyed her family, it would be worth it.
Gwaedd decided the best way forward was through. The heroes left the dwarves behind and protected and ventured into the ruined fields. It wasn’t long before they drew the attention of a Hexen heard along with the prize bull, Maximilian transformed into a Hexen Bull. As if the charging bulls were not enough, the wind picked up as did the scattering of leaves and forest debris. By the time the heroes were eyes-deep in beef the Riven Gallant, a Brume manifestation appeared.(Upgraded to a Legendary Creature with an ability to make simulacrum of itself.) However, it only got one slash off before Cedwyn banished the fey. By the time this manifestation of the Riven Gallant returned for its exile, the hexen were all dead. The battle was short and the creation of animated gorse fell apart under all the blows. However, it disappeared with a mocking laugh carried far on the wind. This surely would not be the last the heroes would see of the entity.
After another brief respite, the troupe pressed on. They slunk in through a side window into the bottom floor of Longnail Manor. There were charred silhouettes that remained of furniture and the like within. Once touched, however, these burned husks crumbled to ash. The party quickly learned that any room where their light didn’t glow as bright as soon were inhabited by one or more ashen wights (Wights with a cinder explosion attack) of the Longnail family. They systematically cleared out what rooms they needed to until rounding to the great hall. There it was as dark as the undead-infested room.
As soon as the party approached the Runic Arquebus, the Longnail patriarch manifested as a Bodak. The foul creature wreaked havoc on the party, but in the end, they were triumphant and claimed the weapon. With the manor cleared they decided to take a longer rest before continuing on. Hopefully, the rest of the area would be easier to deal with.
Comments
Post a Comment