Party Journal

In chatting with the Mayor our new adventuring party learns a few interesting things:

1. The goblins were probably a scouting party sent out to create a distraction for the faction they work for, the Black Bear Paw Clan;
2. During the raid a grave in the town cemetery was exhumed. The corpse robbers carried the corpse along with something very heavy, judging by the depth of the tracks the raiding party left as they retreated;
3. The grave belonged to a lighthouse-keeper named Tovar who died in the fire that consumed his lighthouse; and,
4. Rocky looted a map off the body of their leader, a goblin war-chanter. It appears to depict an underground area that the Mayor believes is hidden beneath either the Pebble Hills or the Xerbal Mountains.

Over many free drinks amidst a crowd of fawning locals at the Storm Crow, our adventuring party is revealed to consist of 6 unlikely heroes:

Last night’s excitement drew the attention of an investigator named Kassandra, and before breakfast is cleared she’s become the newest member of the party. By that time, the tavern has started to fill again – and not just with the curious: from the back of the room steps forward a tall and grim-looking man whose long black hair is streaked with grey. His name is Achamian, and his words are few and to the point:

“Beware the Harvesters. They are well known in this region, and specifically in our port. If they should learn you have spellcasters among you they are under orders to abduct you.”

Following this gloomy proclamation the Mayor leans forward to offer a map of the surrounding area. Upon inspection it reveals familiar points of interest like the Pebble Hills, the Xerbal Mountains, and also provides names for the rivers, roadways and forested areas in between. He also lets us know that there’s something odd about Tovar’s grave that needs investigating.

Deep in the forest under a gathering dark, Kassandra is caught in a bear trap that rings like a dinner bell. The party works together to quickly release and heal her before quickly scouring the area for clues. They find the remnants of a broken chest and a lock glowing with arcane magic. (K)Lorna gathers up the lock and the party makes a hasty dash for the road and quick trip back to the Inn.

Along the way Kassandra’s curiosity gets the better of her for a second time! when she sees the glow of a campfire on top of Lookout Hill. Alone, she stumbles into the company of a dim-witted, companionable half-orc who appears to live up here. Despite his helpful nature, Morcha is unable to provide the party with any useful information about last night’s raid.

Captain Barnabus Harrigan of The Wormwood is a different sort altogether… He claims to sell “anything to anyone for the right price” and promises to make good on any deals that Cadence might make with his first mate, Mr. Plug. He is circumspect about when The Wormwood will get underway, and where their next port of call will be.

Father Krul from The Temple of Hurrian tells Cadence that he presided over Tovar’s burial and that the Storm Lord showed his appreciation in the form of a thunder-and-lightning storm during the ceremony. He is frustrated by the bureaucracy that has delayed the building of the new lighthouse and shares the sad news that Tovar’s father followed his son into the grave less than a year later. Cadence suspects that Father Krul knows more than he’s letting on…

Near the docks, Leathers’s keen eyes found a hidden passage beneath a collapsed dock plank, leading into a labyrinth of damp, reeking tunnels. The stench of decay thickened as we pressed deeper, torches casting jagged shadows on the walls. In the first fetid chamber, we faced a horror: an undead abomination with a single rusted claw, lurking in a shadowed alcove. It lashed out at Leathers, freezing his limbs mid-swing. My heart clenched as he fell paralyzed, but Beltine’s grace steadied my voice. “Hold fast!” I cried, channeling divine energy to sear the creature while reviving our allies. The battle was a blur of steel and prayer, but we prevailed—only to find worse ahead.

Beyond the carnage, we uncovered a storage chamber with troubling treasures:

The tunnels twisted deeper, winding like arteries beneath the lighthouse rubble. In a second chamber, we stumbled upon two more clawed horrors crouched among six skeletal warriors, their bones clattering as they rose. Here, Beltine granted me clarity: I called upon my newly mastered spiritual weapon, and to my awe, it manifested as her sacred ladle—gleaming and spectral, as though she herself stirred the cauldron of this fray. The ladle struck with divine precision, searing undead flesh, while I channeled energy to heal our party and purge the skeletons. The sight stole my breath; never had I felt her presence so vividly.

• A crate of blackened weapons (an non-reflective grey metal),
• A cloth cloak with a silver brooch that disintegrated after pricking my hand (a foolish impulse, in hindsight—note: inspect for curses),
• A river rock that resonated with distant voices in Drom when Derk picked it up (a sending stone?),
• A bandolier holding three vials of clear liquid and a healing potion (contents untested).

The artifacts reeked of conspiracy, but before we could ponder further, Cadence—perched atop Rocky’s shoulders—shoved open a trapdoor… and unleashed a screeching swarm of bats. In the chaos, I became the bait, taunting the creatures toward me while conjuring a Stunning Barrier. The spell flared, leaving the bats twitching on the floor as we barricaded the door and retreated. We emerged into daylight filthy and breathless, soot-streaked and wide-eyed, drawing puzzled stares from townsfolk.

We began the morning piecing together everything we had uncovered so far. Dert had been having strange dreams—warnings, perhaps, to ‘use our stuff.’ Cryptic as usual, but worth keeping in mind. Cadence, ever the performer, had secured the healing potion, and the bandolier was packed with the three strange milky potions we found in the tunnels. Still no idea what they do, but if experience has taught me anything, it’s that we’ll find out when it’s least convenient.

I relayed my own findings from the night before. The mayor’s keep had been quiet, but the Storm Crow Inn? Not so much. I overheard Severan having a hushed, heated conversation with a woman—Lady Val’Sheem, I suspect. The High Priestess is on edge, rattled by something. She knows. Maybe not everything, but she knows something went down in those tunnels. We’re being watched.

While Lorna took the lead on deciphering the ‘booby-trapped’ lock we found, I studied the jeweler’s expression. It didn’t take long before he confirmed what we feared—it was laced with a rare jellyfish poison. Not the kind of thing you come across in a small port town. Whoever set that trap wanted to make sure their secrets stayed buried.

The mayor, of course, was “far too busy” to see us. Convenient. We made a show of offering our ‘services’ to Reschenford, pretending we were just another group of mercenaries looking for work. The plan was for Cadence and Dert to read his mind later when he had to speak with us. Meanwhile, we stocked up on supplies—nets, torches, and lamp oil. Bats and darkness be damned, we were going back in.

Back Into The Tunnels

The smell of damp stone, old decay, and something fouler than death greeted us. We made our way carefully, only to stumble across a small metallic trap. Tricky, but we disabled it. Teamwork. Then we entered the hidden room… or what was the hidden room. The crate of weapons was gone. Someone—some things—had come through around midnight and cleared it out. Four large humanoids, judging by the prints. Two of them wore boots, the other two? Barefoot. Ape-like. That sent a chill up my spine.

Lorna examined the remaining weapons, confirming what we already suspected—they were made in her homeland. But there was something off about them. No clan markings, no signs of a known smith. Black market goods? War-forged tools meant for hands that shouldn’t wield them? More questions.

A writhing, bloodthirsty swarm of mosquitoes poured out of the darkness, feasting on the rotting carcasses of three rats before turning on us. Fire was the only thing that worked. Lorna’s magic dust seared through them while torches burned away their numbers. But not before they left their mark—Dert, Lorna, and Cadence took the worst of it, swarmed and drained. I’ve never seen Dert look paler, and that’s saying something.

Then, the moment I’d been waiting for.

As we pushed further into the cavern, we came to another fork. I scouted ahead, tracking the prints left behind in the muck. And then I saw it—him.

Dr. Drucker.

Two rotting, bloated zombie bugbears shambled toward us, dripping wet, as if they’d clawed their way out of a swamp. Or something had pulled them from the depths. Rocky was the first to strike, his hammer coming down with a satisfying crack. Cadence, dancing in and out with his twin blades, made quick work of the first zombie. Lorna swung her morning star, the crunch of bone and sinew sickening even in the dim light.

Dert—Dert missed his shot. Again. His stone disk skidded off the cavern wall. Not his best moment.

Leathers and I had to switch tactics—our blades weren’t built for slashing through undead flesh. Meanwhile, Rocky landed a mighty blow, caving in the chest of one zombie before backflipping away like a damn acrobat. Cadence followed up, cutting through the second one with precision. Lorna and Dert landed the final hits, and the cavern fell silent again.

The Mayor. The Curse. The Spell.

Later that evening, we finally had our audience with the mayor. Cadence played his role well, and Dert’s mind-reading confirmed something strange—he was obsessed with a statue. A relic from his grandfather’s keep. More concerning? A spell has been placed on him. A compulsion preventing him from speaking about something.

Lady Val’Sheem’s erratic behaviour suddenly made more sense. She had been seen drunk, ranting, and raving the night before. She’s on the verge of breaking. She knows something. We just need to get her to talk.

What Comes Next

Drucker is alive and near. I can feel it. His escape was too clean—he had planned for this. But we have something he didn’t expect: his narcotics stash. A trail leading back to him.

The mayor is under a spell. Who placed it? And why does his mind keep circling back to *the statue*? What makes it so important?

And the High Priestess—she’s afraid. But of what?

Woof. There’s been a lot more excitement these past three days than this town has seen in the two years I’ve lived here. Weird stuff is happening. And Derth’s new hairdo and pet rock aren’t the worst of it…

Whatever those mosquitos had been sucking on before they got to Rocky and Cadence must have been foul. Our companions took three days to recover from the bites they got in the cave under the lighthouse. I didn’t feel so bad after taking a swipe from a walking corpse. We’re dealing with disease on top of walking dead, spiced up with magic. Strange times.

While those two were laid up at the Storm Crow Tavern, Dert and I wandered over to see what the alchemist fellow who calls himself Achamian might know about these mysterious potions and the Rage Spell we found in Drucker’s stash. Turns out the milky potions are for breathing underwater, and the spell is complete. All we need is a sorcerer who can make Greengu and we’re all set.

This Bruno character that the Sheriff turned up with this morning seems an alright fellow. Concerned for his folk and itching to get back to them, as it were. Turns out they were set upon by more of the BugBear vermin that’s been plaguing Reschenford. Explains why they never made it to the Spring Fair. I guess he needed a word with the Mayor, can’t say what for. He was eager to get back to his kin, and since we were already headed in that direction it only made sense to offer the man some protection.

• Gottri’s Caravan was just starting up their spring tour, aiming hard for Reschenford where Gottri himself had some deal with the Mayor.
• The tour would take them all over Anonica, ending at “The Keep” in the Borderlands.
• BugBears set loose all the animals from the caravan (including Orkin the OwlBear).
• Were set upon at twilight not long after passing the Drom encampment further north.
• Caravan was smashed and burned, but nothing was stolen.
• Lady Andina Val’Sheem commandeered the Drom workers to build a fancy casino in the woods.

We walked into another bloody ambush, and this one was almost the death of us. More snakes-for-grass, more archers, but this time they held their fire till we were right where they wanted us. It’s where I’d stage an ambush, if I had any sense for such.

Cadence took on the archer atop the first rise and Rocky took the other while the rest of us fought with the grass – the grass! Thank the gods for Mina, or we would never have made it out alive.

In the end we were attacked by three ‘Bears – probably the same three from last night; two thugs and some sort of magician who had all sorts of fancy loot. The others had some decent looking weapons and some armor that maybe we can use to disguise ourselves and infiltrate their lair, if we happen on their encampment.

Tomorrow we’re probably be heading deeper into the hills. Might be we can figure out what these flashing lights are all about.

Of all the low-down rotten luck… Would never have expected Warden Smith to turn up in Reschenford. I thought I’d left that menace well behind in Freshwood when I walked my damned feet off (for a whole week straight) to put a safe distance between us. Seems he was finally caught in his scheming ways and got run out of town by an organization goes by the name of The Grey Hands.

Can’t figure why Mayor Gaius would make him the Sheriff of Reschenford though.

Something else we can add to the growing pile of strange around here.

As usual, Warden Smith come begging for help, but I’ll be damned if I’ll give away the farm so he can sell me down the river again. I told him no more’n what’s already common knowledge amongst the townsfolk: bugbear attacks in town, and the caravan ambush up the road a ways.

I left him there at the city gates and made my way back to regroup with the party at the Inn. Figure he must’ve went off to report to the Mayor.

I won’t give a blow-by-blow, but what followed was as chaotic a battle as I’ve ever been in. We took some wounds, but in the end we took their lives. The loot we took off these ‘bears will surely help us in the fights to come. Two of the mean buggers got away – a badly wounded archer and an alchemist of some sort, certain to cause us trouble when next we meet.

Derth got dropped again and got himself good and kidnapped, so Cadence and Mina were off on the chase… (Chapter 6 Epilogue below).

Time begins to slow for Cadence; slows until it seems time has stopped. He remembers stories that his father told him as a child: stories where his father was the hero of the tale, risking his life in some act of bravery. Cadence had never imagined himself in those stories. His father was a huge, strong man, Cadence just a skinny child. He left the capital city of Grand Coryan to venture into the world to prove himself worthy of his father’s respect…

As these memories flood Cadence’s mind he realizes that in all his father’s stories there was a pivotal moment where everything could have changed if a different choice had been made. That was the moment the hero was born. With a clarity of thought that Cadence rarely experienced, he knew this was that moment for him. 

He was the hero of his own story!

Through years of training Cadence had honed his body for peak agility. Knowing he could never be as strong as his father, he knew he had to find another way. More recently, he had learned to magically enhance his dexterity and to move with superhuman speed and cat-like reflexes.

His heartbeat slows, his muscles tense, his eyes narrow, and his mind falls into a meditative trance. In that moment only two words remain in Cadence’s mind: 

The creature looks around, surprised. “What the hell just happened?” he thinks to himself. 

Once Cadence’s mind begins to clear he becomes aware of his surroundings. He finds himself 40ft from his last position, now standing in front of the archer. His memory of how he got here is foggy, like it had happened long ago. His body had been moving at breakneck speed. It had been no sprint, though; it was the greatest dance he had ever performed, on a stage more than 150ft long!

Cadence’s mind begins to wander again as he looks down at his arms, shimmering and translucent, remembering now that he is still invisible. He finds himself suddenly saddened that no one witnessed his magnificence. The only record of his movement was the gentle rustling leaves or a broken twig along the path of his performance.

Then it dawns on him: he had become the wind! They say everything in this world has a true name, and if you know its name you can bend it to your will. Cadence realizes that everything may also have a dance.

His inner voice notices his lack of focus, and from somewhere deep within his mind a chorus sings out once again: “SAVE DERTH!”

Quickly, I unsheathe one of my swords and drive it deep into the chest of the archer carrying Derth. I watch as they tumble to the ground, Derth thankfully landing on top. My second slash at the alchemist is deflected by rough armor. 

In a blur of actions the alchemist fashions some sort of explosive flask, deftly mixing powders and chemicals from his vest with a potion vial from a bandolier on his belt. I dodge the exploding flask, which rains down fire on the ground near Derth’s unconscious body. Not caring anything for my own safety in that moment, I reach down down to sing another song of healing, desperately hoping he would regain consciousness.

He did not. 

I move to position myself between the alchemist and Derth, forcing him to move further away. Again, the alchemist’s hands moved over his body pulling ingredients from pouches and pockets with practiced speed. This time I know I have to take the full brunt of the flames. As they erupt around me and I can feel my body burning; pain sears through my mind and I let out a scream. Bloodied and burned, I realize I can’t take another hit like that.

This battle is going to end poorly for me.

The alchemist walks over to the two lifeless bodies on the ground. One charred, the other still burning. A wide smile of satisfaction splits his face as he watches his enemies burn.

“How dare they trespass in our territory,” he thinks to himself. “I’ll leave their bodies for the crows to find. A sign to never return to our land. But first, my trophy.” It was his due as a great warrior of the Black Bear Paw Clan.

He grabs a fistful of hair, lifting the smaller of the two interlopers off the ground, and spies a large crystal dangling from a necklace, glinting redly in the sunlight. 

“Perfect.” 

He rips the necklace from the human’s neck and lets the body drop to the ground with a thud. As a last, impulsive mark, he spits on the lifeless forms.

______________________________________

Never to be underestimated again. Never again.

His master, his employer, must be informed. The other Warband must be warned.

He realizes that if more from this group catch up to him, they will be his end. An unmarked grave. No rites. His clan exposed, left with no warning of these ruthless wanderers. Unprepared for the interlopers.

He quickly checks himself; his adrenaline is fading and the seriousness of his wounds are becoming clear. Waves of pain lash his limbs. 

A true hero knows when it is time to make a tactical retreat. To live and fight another day. To protect his clan.

He pulls another vial from his belt, yanks the cork out with his teeth, and drinks the contents. The mutagen causes his body to re-form, muscles getting larger, stronger, legs elongating. In moments, the transformation is complete. He turns and retreats, his long, bounding strides carrying him swiftly to the forest. Now that he is augmented by his own formula (a longer-lasting twist he added to the human’s second-rate, hand-me-down recipe) he knows he’ll be able to out-distance the… who were these people?

When Cadence awakens again, he sees a figure leaning over him, the sun directly behind her creating a sort of halo.

“Are you an Angel? Have I died?”, he whispers.

As his eyes begin to adjust to the light, he sees Mina looking down on him shaking her head with disapproval, like a mother looking at a child who has skinned his knee for the hundredth time. A frown on her face as she looks down at him; her eyes filled with concern.

She speaks softly and says “Rest now for a bit, you will survive my friend, but I fear you won’t soon forget this battle.” Cadence follows her gaze, looking down at his arms. The skin is twisted with deep burn scars that even magic cannot heal. 

“Where’s Derth? Is he OK?” Cadence calls out in a panicked voice and starts to sit up. Mina puts her hand on his shoulder and gently pushes him back down. “Derth will be fine, thanks to you.” she sasy softly, “You saved Derth, you’re a hero Cadence.”

Tears well up in Cadence’s eyes, “I did it father, I’m a hero!” he thinks to himself.

Mina smiles to herself, relieved that she saved them both from certain death. She knows, also, who was the true hero of the day. Putting glory and recognition out of her mind, she had told Cadence what he needed to hear. 

Kassandra – you came to Reschenford following word of Doctor Drudy Drucker, a notorious alchemist and shady-dealer. Having briefly seen the man, only to have him escape via alchemically enhanced means, you then liberated the Doctor’s hastily-ransacked stash in the Smuggling Den, leading you to suspect he had an ongoing operation here in town or in the surrounding area.

Having now left behind the immediate pursuit of Dr. Drucker, are you content to follow a grander story, perhaps? You may have been questioning your choices over the past few days, but after today’s revelations you feel like maybe, somehow, you were meant to find more about him. Almost like a lingering, alchemical taste that you can’t get rid of at the back of your throat.

Leathers – you moved to Reschenford to escape. To rid yourself of the influence of Warden Smith. So when a group of adventurers pooled their resources and began to unravel one of the towns long-standing mysteries, you joined in, adding paw and bark (keen intuition and a wicked sneak-attack!) to their repertoire. Little did you suspect that the new replacement for the outgoing Sheriff Balor was your old nemesis, Warden Smith.

But something is not right. Warden Smith is a broken man, running from the Grey Hand, a shadowy organization that Severen seems to know about.

Now you find yourself on the road with your crew – escorting former Sheriff Balor and his merchant friend Sebastien Munchberger to Daggerspine Watch… In hopes of finding out more about the lighthouse fire from the previous-former-Sheriff of Reschenford and now Watch Captain at Daggerspine Watch, Sheriff Andrus? Or are you just avoiding town while you stew over your thoughts and feelings of Warden Smith?

Mina – You came to Reschenford looking for camaraderie. You have found it (and more!) in this group. Some are seeing the light of Beltine in a new and glorious way thanks to you. Others owe you their very lives. How will you adjust to your new-found responsibility? Will you follow your companions, no matter the cost? No matter what fool ideas they pursue?

And just what is it with your itchy palms. Every time Derth uses one of those Stones, you can feel your fingers twitch, can almost feel the weight of the stone in your hand. You feel that you learned your lesson when the poison brooch disintegrated the cloak in your hands under the lighthouse… But still, you can’t help but feel attracted to those Stones. It is something within you, a familiarity that feels both right and hotly, fiercely wrong.

Derth – You came to Reschenford… but do you remember exactly why? Over the past few days, the back-and-forth nature of Mr. Upstairs has been even more pronounced. Maybe it has something to do with your brush with death. Or your second one. Never before has Mr. Upstairs been so inconsistent. You honestly cried out to him at your moment of need… And a thunderous, void-empty response is all you received. And now, what do you have to show for it? Another scar, and your sacred family heirloom is gone. Gone in the hands of one of those marauding brutish bugbears.

After Mina brought you back, Cadence told you of your peril while you were trying to get Mr. Upstairs’ attention. While you were busy dying. And Cadence told you of the cunning nature of your almost-killer – a bugbear Alchemist. The one who has your necklace. Even the thought of the bald, mustachioed man on the docks has receded behind the burning desire to reclaim your Crystal. You worry what a cunning, alchemically infused bugbear could want with it. Or what he could make from it. Or what he could divine from it…

Cadence – You came to Reschenford to perform. To travel the circuit and follow your passions. Who knew dancing for a living could be so dangerous? While your innate curiosity and hunger for tall tales has revealed hints of corruption, malfeasance, and otherworldly magic surrounding the Mayor and his family, recently you have become very physically acquainted with mortality and the whirling, dancing, edge-of-a-blade quickness with which it can come.

Will your newfound respect and admiration for Mina slow your spins? Will it temper your fiery footsteps? Surely you’ll never be subtle or stoic like Rocky. But can you prove as deadly? Or will you caper about the field, helping each of your companions when they need it most? By Derth’s side when fate comes for his blood? Defending your healer when she’s exposed? Encouraging your dog-locksmith with song to uncover plundered riches? You have come to realize one thing, for certain: the front-lines of a skirmish can be a deadly place for those unprepared. Or just for those whose luck has run out. Perhaps that is what happened with Gottri’s Caravan – just plain bad luck. The kind you used to remember having, whenever that punk Raven was around…

We’re camped outside the ruined fortress known as Daggerspine Watch, with Sebastien Munschberger and Sheriff Balor snoring not far from the coals. They’re paying us two gold a head per day to get them inside that fortress — coin I’ve already earned twice over, if you ask me. The two of them seem overly fixated on a set of armor we stripped from a bugbear war-chief days ago. That armor, stamped with the mark of a falcon, belonged to Marshal Brennus — the second-in-command of Daggerspine’s fallen legion. We found his body laying outside the fort.

Turns out the place is haunted by the ghost of yet another murder victim: Tribune Andrus von Shock, former sheriff of Reschenford.

I saw it with my own eyes.

Let me back up.

After the battle that nearly cost Derth and Cadence their lives, we took time to recover and distribute our loot. I claimed a fine composite longbow — strong as a storm-tide and smooth as obsidian glass. I’ve trained with bows before, but this one fits my grip like it was made for me. My role in the party is shifting — I can feel it. With this bow and my climbing gear, I can hold an elevated position, scan the field, and call the shots from the shadows. I’ll keep the others alive. That’s the promise.