Five days were spent in relaxation, mostly at the homestead, with little significant to report. Ghevont casually reported that when he’d been at Lah’s Retreat the previous week, Lah has cured him of the stench of negative energy he’d carried since being touched by a spectre in the Cryptward. The aged cleric required a minimal donation of 1200 gp.
A farmer from the North Ward, sitting outside the Iron Knight Inn was overheard to say, “Listen, outlander, and listen well—it’s a different kind of winter we’re facing. The golems, they don’t shout, and they don’t drink, but their footsteps rattle the very teeth in your head. They marched into my fields this morning—seven men with an empty wagon. Their leader was a giant of stitched hide and tattered purple, his eyes glowing with that dim, arcane fire. They took my grain, my winter wheat, and my best gray mare. All I got for the lot was this scrap of parchment with a red hand-dab on it. They called it ‘contributing to the Second Awakening’. They even dragged off a traveler—one of those Red Jackets—shouting about him being a spy. He’s up in the cage now, same place they used to put the witches. It’s a quiet kind of thievery, and if you speculate too loud about where that grain is going, the big one just stares at you until your blood turns to ice.”
In general, the party took this news in stride, concluding that Amalgus was making moves to protect the community at large. Ollie was suspicious. The others paid it no mind. They were focused on finding another pack of werewolves, following up on what the bat told Ghevont about a grove of very tall trees.
They set out in the morning (2/6), cutting away from the road to Milltown and into the hills (hex 0809). From there, they could see the tops of trees to the southwest (hex 0709) and headed towards them. The way was a barely discernible game trail that presently ended at a thick bramble through which they could see enormous oaks rising as high as the surrounding hills themselves.
They pushed through the tangled limbs of the brush until they came to the dim light under a thick canopy of oak trees, some rising hundreds of feet. Other than the birds and squirrels, the forest was quiet. The ground was a springy carpet of “silvery-grey” moss that muffled all sound. Eventually, they came to a glade there more sunlight shown on a meadow where a single tree, greater than all the others stood 300 feet tall. Nearby, they saw an unusual mound of blue moss.
Aderian conversed with his magical bag, Irenduel, who indicated that gold lay back in the tangled perimeter. The party marched back the way they came, led by the bag. After a short time, the tangle itself seemed to animate, revealing a mass of rotting vegetation 8 feet around and 6 feet tall. Vicious vines darted out as the ball of muck rolls forward, but the battle was short. Hestrin’s Chisel, the sword Aderian bore, gave forth a bolt of magical energy, turning the entire sphere of leaves and vines into solid stone. The monster was now a boulder. The bag said the treasure was inside it. So, Aderian and Jerker began working to break it apart, slow work that would perhaps fill the rest of the day.
Meanwhile, Ghevont wandered back to the glade. He called forth all animals. Along with many birds and squirrels, seven dire wolves emerged. Two of the wolves were receptive to his sermon. The others presented a stance of clear and present danger. Gheveont attempted to speak with them in a soothing manner, but their aggressive nature got the best of them, and they moved forward to attack. Ollie and Nate were nearby, and they rushed up to defend Ghevont. The cleric used a spell to charm one of the wolves and then another spell to double its size.
A minute later, most of the wolves were dead. Ghevont asked the charmed wolf to lead the two calmed wolves away, restoring peace to the glad. Before they left, they told him about their mistress, a werewolf, who was hiding high up in the central tree.
Now Ghevont used his magic once again, this time to speak with the tree itself. It was ancient, older than Tosasth. He remembered visits from the Tosasth elves and many other wizards. He called himself The Great Pillar, and his home was Oniuel’s Grove. He was disappointed in the destruction of the shambler that guarded the grove, but he was happy to share that the werewolf was hiding in his upper limbs.
Elaria transformed into a small, red dragon, then became invisible. She carried a coil of rope up to a branch on the tree about a hundred feet from the ground. Aderian climbed up the rope to stand on the massive branch. He was soon being pummeled by enormous acorns dropped from above. He narrowly avoided falling, so pulled a potion from his pouch and assumed a gaseous form. He began to float upwards, slowly.
As the acorns came tumbling down, Elaria spotted their source. She rushed up to the werewolf, an ugly female specimen still in human form. The elf in dragon form cast a light spell upon the lycanthrope’s eyes. The commotion encouraged a flock of stirges to emerge from their nests in the tree. Half of them descended on the blind werewolf, despite the bright light coming from her eyes. The other half pursued Elaria. Two of the beasts attached themselves to the werewolf and began drinking her blood.
Elaria spun around mid-air and cast a sleep spell on the stirges. They fell to the ground in little plops. The werewolf assumed her monstrous form, which protected her from further attacks but did not prevent attached stirges from draining her life away. She managed to remove one but it was not enough. Her lifeless body tumbled from the treetop. When it hit the ground, even though somewhat soft from the carpet of moss, it exploded into a cloud of red gore, splattering Ollie, Nate, Jerker and Ghevont. This left the corpse in no condition to probed with the speak-with-dead ring.
Loot
Back on the ground sometime later, Aderian by way of his bag, poked through the accumulated bones at the foot of the tree, finding a gold bracelet. He gave it to the bag.
Going back to the rocky corpse of the shambler, the resumed the work of cracking it open. Inside, they found what seemed like the ancient remains of an elf adventurer. Among the effects were some coins (2700 cp, 1600 sp, 1700 ep, 400 gp) that were divided between them: 171 gp to Elaria and 232 gp to the rest of them. Nate took a magical spear.
Ghevont took up a scroll with elven holy script and two scrolls of protection versus the undead. Ollie took two maps that described personal hoards buried in the nearby wilderness. He also took a scroll of Protection from Lycanthropes. Elaria took two magic user scrolls. One contained Cloudkill and Protection from Normal Missiles. The other contained Remove Curse.
They made their way home and the next day (2/7) reported to Amalgus of their success and the discovery of the grove, describing the extreme height. Amalgus shared his recent plans for improving the security of St. Orlan by constructing three forts. Work was already underway to organize a militia, including recruiting able-bodied men from Slateholm. Grain and horses were being taken from local farms to further this purpose, and promissory notes were issued for later repayment of these debts.
He encouraged the Raiders to donate funds to speed construction.
Nate, Ollie and Aderian spent some time with Ghevont encouraging him to construct holy relics at Lah’s Retreat. Nate desired an amulet capable of casting a Hold Person spell. Aderian and Ollie dreamed of an earring capable of resisting paralyzing effects.
Jerker’s Dream
Meanwhile, Jerker found his sleep disturbed by frightful dreams, which he kept to himself.
In the dream, he opened his eyes—or maybe they were already open—and he found himself standing in this huge, windowless room that feels like the inside of a kiln somebody forgot to turn off centuries ago. The walls were black obsidian, the kind that drinks light instead of reflecting it, so everything looks dim and greasy, like he was seeing the world through a film of filthy oil.
There was a potter there, hunched over his wheel like he’d been at it since the world was young. His face… By the Anointed One! His face was a mess, a patchwork of different human parts stitched together wrong—here an eye that’s too big, there a mouth that didn’t quite line up— all of it half-hidden behind this thin, greenish haze that drifted off him like smoke from bad meat. He was working seven clay serpents, fat and twisting, their scales catching the low light in these sick rainbow sheens, like oil on a puddle after a rain. He was throttling them one by one, thick fingers squeezing, but those fingers… they were fingerless at the tips, just blunt knuckles that made a dull, meaty thump every time they hit the iron-bound ledger beside him.
He was kneading something else too—a big lump of ground marrow mixed with red mud, the kind of red that looks wet and wrong. Every time those knuckles came down, the sound rolled through the room like distant thunder that was out of tune with the rest of the world.
Jerked smelled it all: wet clay, old blood, something metallic that makes his back teeth ache.
Then the sixth serpent slipped his grip.
It didn’t lunge or hiss. It just slid free, thick body pulsing, giving off that sharp stink of ozone like right after lightning strikes, mixed with hot metal. It coiled around his ankles—not striking, not even squeezing hard, just… heavy. Impossibly heavy, like it was made of lead instead of clay. He felt the drag immediately, pulling him backward, down toward this bottomless siphon in the floor that’s overflowing with viscous black stuff, the kind that doesn’t splash, just rolls and clings.
His feet slide an inch. Then another. The weight was in his bones by then.
Behind him, the potter didn’t even look up. He just kept working the clay, those blunt knuckles tapping their awful rhythm. His voice came out low, almost casual, the way a man might talk about the weather when he’s really talking about something else entirely.
“Names are worn and put away as the fashions change,” he muttered, “but a black hand print on the soul… that doesn’t wash off in the river.”
The serpent tightened just a fraction. The black below Jerker kept rising, patient, waiting.
The next morning, Jerker knelt in the quiet of the morning, the thin winter snow outside the temple of St. Orlan reflecting a cold, honest light. In the silence, his mind drifted back to the kiln-like room of his dreams—the patchwork potter and the sixth serpent that had slipped his grip to coil around his ankles like leaden guilt. He thought of the potter’s low, casual voice warning that the black hand print on the soul would not simply wash away in the river.
Sleep had become a stranger to him. When it came at all, it brought heat and smoke and the dry rasp of scales against stone. More often he lay awake until dawn, staring into darkness, counting the slow tolling of distant bells. He had taken to rising before Elaria stirred, careful in his movements, careful in his breathing. When she asked, he answered lightly, too lightly, and turned the talk aside. The shadows beneath his eyes deepened; his temper shortened; small silences stretched long between them. Elaria watched him with growing worry, sensing the fracture he refused to name.
His prayer was wordless, a heavy weight for the life of Bremlai he had taken in a moment of unrestrained rage. Seeking the narrow path Lah once spoke of, Jerker gathered his gear, determined to travel to the retreat and confess the shadows that still haunted his spirit—before they hollowed him out entirely.
End Notes
- Days
- 2/1 – 2/5 Downtime
- 2/6 – Kill a werewolf pack at Oniuel’s Grove
- 2/7 – Jerker goes to Lah’s Retreat
- Treasure:
- Gold Bracelet (500 gp) taken by Aderian
- 2700 cp, 1600 sp, 1700 ep, 400 gp (divided)
- Spear +1 taken by Nate
- 2x Scroll of Protection from Undead taken by Ghevont
- Elven Cleric Spell Scroll (Charm Animal, Restoration, Continual Light*) taken by Ghevont
- Two treasure maps taken by Ollie
- Scroll of Protection from Lycanthropes taken by Ollie
- Magic User Scroll with Cloudkill and Protection from Normal Missiles taken by Elaria
- Magic User Scroll with Remove Curse taken by Elaria
- Combat (5740 xp)
- Greater Shambler: 2395 xp
- Nightstalker (Werewolf leader) 555 xp
- 7 Dire Wolves 240 xp each
- 30 Stirges 37 xp each
- Exploration:
- Oniuel’s Grove 1,500 xp
- Characters (5.5 shares of 1316 xp)
- Aderian (human, fight) 1461 xp
- Elaria (hireling) 658 xp
- Ghevont (human, preaches) 1461 xp
- Jerker (human, fight) 1461 xp
- Nate (human, fight) 1461 xp
- Ollie (suspicious, fight) 1342 xp