"Get her!" Kythan shouted to his companions as soon as they enter the cavern. The cavern itself appears to have been recently enlarged at the east end, where a massive, curving stone carving protrudes from the floor, wall, and ceiling. It is covered in runes that appear strangely familiar, and it appears that some of them have been chipped away.
A table nearby holds several stone working tools and a thin book.
It's not these however that captures the attention of the swordmage and his companions. As soon as they step thru the chamber, a pair of dretch guardians gibber and howl to alert the other occupant of the room - a female eladrin with purple skin and silver white hair - who takes cover behind her table. The two dretches attack and while the dark skinned eladrin fire her hand crossbow at them.
The fight turns bad for the dretches as Kythan quickly slashes thru them with his burning blade.
The female eladrin creates darkness and uses the cover provided to flee. The magical slippers she’s wearing allowing her to move along the wall and reach the shaft leading up. She continues to fire crossbow bolts at Kythan as she retreats up the shaft. She manages to catch the swordmage's shoulder with a minor wound.
Kythan annoyingly pulls out the small crossbow bolt and runs after her. He however struggles after a few steps and falls on the floor.
His companion is beside him in a few seconds and is checking the swordmage's wound.
"Poison." The companion whispers and busies himself with his bag.
"No!" Kythan gasps. "Go after her. We cannot let her escape."
The swordmage's vision then turns blurry and the world vanishes before his eyes.
Kythan: Excavation
Guillaume: The Blot
i proudly surveyed the growing congregation. it has not been that long since the goblin invasion. now, more humans have accepted the one true faith. there were a handful of elves, a couple of dwarves and i dont think i have ever seen any halflings inside the temple premises save the one who appears to have gotten "lost" but was lead to the right exit just in time. to make certain that all of the lesser races are accepted and welcomed to the church of corellon, i took a couple of humans as sacristans to the services, garbed in elaborate robes carrying the sweet smelling incenses that i just ordered. the humans seemed more impressed by the pageantry but if it yields faith. i think it could never go wrong.
a week has passed since the strange shadow in the sky has appeared. many of the women who attended the church has come to me for advice. they pester me with silly superstitions. of course, i expected it of the lesser races. i assured them though that whatever it is. wether or not it exists to do evil, surely corellon will protect us from it. that same night i came out and observed it secretly from church bell tower.
i grew worrisome.
DM: The Blot
Life has returned to normal in Sandpoint except for a strange atmospheric phenomenon that lately manifested in the sky above the town. The strange blot has hung in the air for several weeks, moving slowly in what appears to be a random pattern in the sky. At first assumed to be a dark cloud, it soon became evident that it often moved at odds with the wind. The blot itself resembles nothing so much as a shadow floating in the sky, almost as if some large but unseen object were partially blocking the sun’s rays.
The local sage Brodert Quint (Gryffin’s adopted father) first noticed the Blot before it was visible to the naked eye. He called it an “atmospheric shadow” and it was subsequently named for him as it became more visible.
DM: A Hero's Welcome
A hero's welcome is not forthcoming. You reach Sandpoint just as night is closing. You are, to a man, cold, hungry, and tired.
The town, when you arrive back, is quiet. Several people are returning late from their work to their homes. Candle-light flickers from most windows. The smell of smoke drifts from the many chimneys. At the gate the guards are new, fresh from Hemlock's trip to Magnimar. They nod, perhaps recognizing you from descriptions given to them, but they are not men you have served alongside.
“Well met” they offer. “Back already?”
You find it hard to build up the enthusiasm to respond. Lloyd asks one to fetch Hemlock and Mayor Deverin from their evening meal, and then wanders with the rest to the Mayor's office.
They have to wait some time before anyone turns up. First to arrive is Sheriff Hemlock. He looks insanely tired, with bags under his eyes, and stress lines creasing his forehead. When he sees you all, and he actually stops to make eye contact with each of you in turn, as if convincing himself that you ALL survived, he actually lets out a laugh of pure delight and surges forward, the Shoanti in him surging out for a moment as he embraces you each in turn. “My boys, my boys, my girl” he stammers. “Oh tell me it went well, tell me we finally have some fair news for this cursed town!”
The door swings open as he breaks away from you. Mayor Deverin, looking composed, but equally tired, hesitates.
“Well? Please let the tidings be fair?”
The story you reveal to them takes almost as long in the telling as it took in the doing. Half way through food and drink that you never noticed Deverin ordering arrives. You feast on cold meats and bread, red wine, and perfect autumnal apples. The cider this year will be good!
You each take turns, adding to the story, remembering some painful addition, revealing the journals, the heads, the necklace with ears, the fate of the old priest, now an offering to Thazidun. But you keep some things private, as if in silent agreement. You are not sure how to breach the suggestions that Nualia made about her adoptive father, or the child she claims was sired alive.
When you talk of the deal you made with the goblin druid, Hemlock growls and offers up some Shoanti insult to the goblins that would make your mothers blush. A reproving glare from Deverin makes him cough nervously and apologise. The big man is clearly not delighted.
“Nualia… I think we will ask the church to consecrate and bury her head and claw. It would do the people no good to see the head of one they remember as a child of heaven, a plane touched charm in their midst. They recall her that way, and we do not need them to think that their angel was cursed to become a demon. Our days are dark enough as they are. And I ask you to not mention her, or what happened to her father. We have covered things up here. We have covered up the theft from the graveyard… you have closed this issue for us. Lets let the people sleep easy at nights. FOR ONCE!”
Deverin finishes her request, and looks at you all for confirmation. When she sees that no disagreement is coming she continues.
“You will be heroes here. We will make a Charter of the Wolves of Sandpoint, and you will be its members. We have little money to speak of here, but I do still have some political power, and I will work hard to have Magnimar reward you!”
At last, the meal is over, and talk is done. You get to leave your macabre cargo behind and leave for a night of drinking and sleep. The horse is stabled by the guards, and the ale will flow.
DM: The Return To Sandpoint
The night closes in as you make the six mile, 2 hour hike back to Sandpoint. It feels strange, perhaps slightly anti-climactic. You are heroes now, you have vanquished your foe, and yet here you are trudging through mud with a head and a hand in a sack and little to say.
You are tired, hurting, and perhaps all a bit dazed about the day's proceedings.
Six (no, Seven) individuals, who only a few weeks ago were going about their separate lives, thrust together to save Sandpoint… and then succeeding. It isn't so hard to get your heads around your success. You all know now that you have a good group of friends around you. You know that these guys can hold their own in a fight, are willing to throw themselves in the path of danger for one another. So the success is not the difficult part to understand, it is trying to reconcile your knowledge of yourself before these past few weeks with the knowledge of the person you have become.
You are heroes now. Proper heroes. I mean, who else would storm a goblin stronghold and clean it out in a single day? Who else would delve deep into a hidden catacomb beneath the town and wipe the evil from it? Who else would have tracked down Nualia, despite their injuries and fears, and taken her head from her shoulders?
You are still not quite sure WHY this all happened, though. It feels as if there are several threads yet to be tied together. The strange seven pointed star rune that you found in so many places. The presence of Thazidun in all of this. The true purpose of the goblin attack, and even of the burnt offering that Nualia made of her 'father'. The monstrous Sinspawn that rose from the pools beneath Sandpoint as if from some ancient slumber. It doesn't make sense. It is as if you have succeeded in your quest, to save Sandpoint from an imminent attack, but haven't actually got any closer to finding out why.
It makes you think that this tale may yet have more to it.
Gryffin: Nualia, End Combat
It always seems to fall to Gryffin to scavenge from the corpses. The others are either too busy with something else, squeamish or foolish, he thinks to himself. They need all the help they can get, and the benefit of a recovered potion or scroll could mean the difference between life and death. Anyway, he has gutted enough fish in his time at the sea, that the slippery entrails of death give him little pause
He stoops down to the corpse of Nualia. He remembers her vaguely, more as a little girl, when he was little, but strangely less as a blossoming woman, which is strange given her unearthly beauty. She must have kept herself hidden, or at least not involved in the same circles as him. Not normal for a small town like Sandpoint. I mean, sure, he knew of her, knew her name, knew her countless nicknames, but he can't recall every actually talking with her. Oh well, she is just another corpse now.
The strange medallion at her neck takes his notice. It is a silver disk hanging from a simple leather cord. The disk is quite thick, like a coin, albeit larger in diameter. It is etched with a seven pointed star - the same rune you have seen several times now, both in the catacombs below Sandpoint, and now here too. He bends down to slip it from her neck. It is warm to the touch. As he lifts it free, pulling it loose from the tangle of her hair, it cools noticeably until it feels like little more than a normal metal disk.
Gryffin slips a hand under her waist, moving to locate the small money pouch he noticed on her. He finds it and cuts it free. He rocks back on the balls of his feet as he spread the pouch. Inside is an assortment of coins (OOC: 7pp, 5gp, 3sp).
The cruel, serrated bastard sword that Nualia was wielding is slick with the blood of Orik. It is probably worth something, and may even be enchanted.
At the back of the room, just to the right of her body, lies a small stash of goods. A lantern lies beside them, casting some light upon a few open scrolls and journals. Beside them is a fine quality long bow and a quiver with 20 arrows. On top of one of the journals lies a horrific golden holy symbol, bearing the monstrous sign of Thazidun. It is probably worth a small fortune to some evil priest, but even melted down (probably a better use for it), it would fetch perhaps 50gp!
(OOC: You can take whatever, and investigate (rolls if you want to identify, etc.) as desired. The journals and scrolls are quite numerous, and would take perhaps an hour or two to scan through (and many hours to completely read)).