Rise of the Runelords - [GoodOmens]

Orik's Flight

Orik Vancaskerkin’s last glimpse of the lower level of Thistletop was the blood seeping out from underneath Bruthazmus’s door, and a Gnome’s smile. Had anyone asked, he would not have been able to tell them which was the more unnerving of the two. He had accepted that the gods had not graced him with an overabundance of common sense, but if he had ever been thankful that they’d given him any at all, it was when he mounted the stairs on his own tiny Quest For Sky.

Much of the rest was a waking dream: Bloody boot prints, discarded bandages, a brief glimpse of the headless corpse that had once been Warchief Ripnugget.

As he plodded, dumbstruck, towards the yard where the group said the horse could be found, his sense of having made the right choice was a warm but tolerable nausea hovering below his ribcage. Being a mercenary, Orik was no stranger to violence or gore, but some sights as he led his half-starved charge towards the door were new to him. His eyes beheld tiny goblin bodies peppered with arrows taller than their targets, ones who looked like they had attempted to claw their own eyes out in madness, and scores of the little bastards immolated to the bone by Erastil’s piercing judgement.

He led Shadowmist carefully over the rigged bridge, wary of the thorns beyond but aware that other than the surf crashing below and an occasional snarl from a hungry bunyip, it was spine-chillingly quiet.

Before his lone planned detour to the fresh water of the Thistle River he sated his curiousity about only one last detail. It should have been obvious when the frightened warhorse refused to even approach the cave hidden in the dense thicket. Orik put his ear close to the rock, quieting his heart and his breathing before he heard something he would later compare to a very surly blacksmith working his bellows. If it wasn’t a bear, it couldn’t have been anything more friendly.

Orik spared one last backwards glance when he reached the road, half expecting to see a towering pillar of smoke and unholy fire. It was only when he was satisfied that things were out of his control that his hands finally ceased to shake. Either he would claim the reward for returning the horse and say a prayer for fallen heroes, or he would pray to survive his next meeting with the Saviors of Sandpoint.

Lying in Wait
Cut-Scene, Bad-Guys, Your-Doom

From elsewhere, outside the chamber there was noise. Not the discordant – soothing – noise of the pit, but the din of battle. In the soothing darkness several forms moved unconcerned. They had the blessing of their mother to protect them, and they would consume all those who tried to enter. The foul stink of earthly beings moved into the chamber from elsewhere, with the noise comes foul air from the world above, and with it the smells of earthly mortals. Although with the foulness also comes a hint of blood.

Then the movement in the chamber becomes regular, as the beings within catch the scent of the sweet crimson nectar. And they lie in wait for it to come to them. With the blessing of their mother.

Journal of Tharsolian Naillo

I am uneasy of late, Desna’s will has never been plain to me, but why I should hunt boar while a man is murdered defending his child troubles me greatly. More to the point is this bow, locked away in an unholy altar to the mother of monsters and lady of nightmares. Why did it call to me so, the same way Sandpoint called. Does Desna call me forward, or Lamashtu?

The History of the Foxgloves

I had only partial information on Aldern Foxglove for those who inquired about it during your encounter with the generous young noble and his Boar Hunt. So here is some expanded knowledge (and some retcon of information).

Things History Would tell you:

The Foxgloves are one of the older and more wide spread of the Varisian Aristocracy, coming into their gentrified position as Merchant Princes. For over a century the Foxgloves have had major holdings in Magnimar, Riddleport, and even in distant Korvosa; each branch of the family having power and influence within their preview, making the overall family one of the most well connected in all of Varisia.

87 Years ago Vorel Foxglove built Foxglove Manor, one of the first permanent structures to be erected along The Lost Coast – even before the founding of Sandpoint. In 4640, after a harsh winter, a travelling merchant caravan went to call upon the merchant and found that his entire household had passed away due to a malady; the remains of Vorel’s wife, children and servants were burnt as is the custom with deaths due to illness. Vorel’s body was never found. Many assume that he died of the illness while traveling to find a apothecary or priest – some more cynical say that he left his house hold to it’s fate.

They house lay vacant for a little over 40 years (with a local reputation for having bad luck) until Traver Foxglove relocated the Magnimar Foxgloves to this manor house in 4682. 6 years later a disastrous fire – which could be seen as far away as Sandpoint – consumed the servants building and part of the main manor. Traver was found dead (some say by suicide) and his wife was found at the foot of the nearby cliff, burnt and broken. The only survivors were Aldern and his elder sister, Amara. After the incident they were sent to live with distant family in Korvosa.

Things Streetwise Would tell you:

Aldern, now in his mid twenties and a wealthy merchant in his own right, returned to Magnimar and reclaimed part of their estate within the city, and taking steps to reclaiming the family manor along the coast. He has been seen as a man about town in Magnimar, and even occasionally seen Sandpoint as he takes trips to survey the remains of the manor.

The manor itself had fallen into great disrepair, and most locals refuse to work on the structure claiming that the house or land is cursed and/or haunted.

In 4701 (6 years ago) Aldern reclaimed the manor, starting the restoration process. Although finding labor was hard to due local superstition about the property, he has restored much of the original house – even if it’s not as large as the original.

A Really Good Streetwise Roll Would Tell Warryn:

Rummor has it that Aldern has a gambling habit, he has often been seen returning to his residence in Magnimar from some the seedier parts of town, most assume from a illicit gambling dens.

Gossip has it that Aldern fell in love with a local travelling Varisian named Iesha. Some rumors go as far as to claim that they eloped, but there is no proof of their marriage.

Things Luciano Might Know From Living In Korvosa:

While you never meet Aldern Foxglove, he was quite the local charmer in noble circles. Became a very successful maritime and caravan financier. By the time he was twenty he was a rival for the local head of the Foxglove holdings, and he was “encouraged” to leave the city and find his own path.

Chronicles of Warryn Talespinner pt.14

From the esteemed autobiography of Warryn Talespinner, caller of the dogs, hero and deputy sheriff of Sandpoint.

…As I once again wowed the crowd with my epic poems and feats of song, strangers wandered into Sandpoint. A strange Elf who asked about the tragedy, a taciturn dwarf with a chip on his shoulder, a spoiled rich boy with a demon companion. Sensing and aura of destiny about these strangers I made my introductions.I introduced them to Keira who grows ever more distant from the earth, and good old Par Fait from the cathedral. Naturally all of these newcomers saw my worth and begged me for my knowledge of local legends and histories.

Tharn: Session 1

The journal of Tharsoliar Naillo, Grand Warden of the Northern Reconnaissance Division and Heir Apparent to the House of Wysania
Date to be added later_

At last I have found it. After months of traveling overland I have found what the dreams forced me to seek. Today I arrived in the town of Sandpoint amidst their annual festival. The Compulsion drove me to the center of the town where I found their church. The building was new, but the woods in the distance and the surrounding buildings were unmistakably those from my dream.

Further inquiry revealed that the old church had burned just as in my dream! Nobody knew of, or would reveal, any suspicious circumstances regarding the fire, but a local innkeep, Ameiko Kaijitsu, told of a woodcarver who went mad barely a week after the fire and murdered dozens over the next month. I fear that this is no coincidence, but whatever darkness holds sway over this town, I believe it to be mine to right.

(The following is scrawled hastily, barely legible)
Disaster! I know not whether the guards were asleep or merely drunk at their posts, but they allowed a goblin raiding party to enter the city and attack the citizens in the middle of their feast. The civilians were, of course, panicky, and I was barely able to loose my arrows for fear of one stumbling into my line of fire. Fortunately there were other warriors at the feast as well, and we managed to dispatch the goblins with minimal casualties to the townsfolk. I write this and hide it here for no logical reason I can discern, I do it because some ineffable entity so commands me. Now I must go, there are lights in the distance, and I fear the goblins mean to burn us out.

Adventure Logs

Greetings Players, It is I, your kind and benevolent DM.

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Characters who post In Character information to this page will be rewarded, with fortune cards or additional XP.
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