#holzog

[cursewoodrecap]

Session 6.3 Addendum: The Eldritch Cookbook

We took a cookbook from the Astronomer’s house, and found that it was, in our DM’s words, “An eldritch descent into madness, in the form of a recipe blog.”

Here are a few excerpts from the personal annotated cookbook of Adelaide Klimt, the hired cook for the Astronomer’s artist colony.

Twenty-Clove Chicken

When Doctor Alicia first joined us, I was excited to try to combine my cooking with her Alchemy. However, her rude and uncouth behavior soon put such thoughts out of my mind. Since working for Mister Vlemisk, I have grown accustomed to feeding an eccentric crowd, but Alicia’s lack of respect for any work beyond her own (and, seemingly, Mister Vlemisk’s) is positively Shocking. She fills the house with the horrible smell of her lab, and then has the nerve to complain that others are being too loud. The other day, she commandeered my kitchen all afternoon, leaving the place a horrible mess. When I confronted her in her lab, she offered only the most basic of apologies, and then told me to “Use Garlic sparingly, as it upsets my stomach”. Anyway, dearest Doctor Alicia, I dedicate this recipe to you.

-

Kevan-Style Minced Venison Pelmini

With the Curse upon us, Mister Vlemisk has grown increasingly withdrawn, spending more and more time in his observatory, gazing at the stars all night, sleeping and scribbling notes all day. We bring him food, but he eats little of it. He has grown very thin and pale, and I worry about his health. We all worry about him. The Sculptor, Karl Schossman, thought that perhaps a hint of nostalgia would entice Artyom out of his malaise. Artyom grew up in Keva, and had once mentioned eating Pelmini as a child, so, I went to the town and interviewed merchants until I was able to assemble what I believe to be an authentic Gourmet Pelmini that can be re-created with ingredients available here in Valdia.

-

Nightmare Eggs The house has grown restless. Every night I toss and turn, plagued by strange dreams. I dream of the Stars, of  horrible beasts rending space like flesh. Last night, I dreamt that I wandered through a city, towers of impossible heights and scale emerging from a waveless ocean of strange water.  I woke up to the birdsong outside, dripping with sweat. What’s worse, I am not the only one. The whole house complains of strange dreams. Perhaps the curse is upon us. As I stumbled down to the kitchen, I was half-asleep, like part of me was still wandering through that horrible city, before I noticed what i was cooking.  I had intended to make an ordinary breakfast, hearty porridge, toast, and eggs. However, I barely noticed what I was doing, and by the time I had mixed the smoked fish in with the eggs, it was too late. Still, It turned out delicious, and so I’ve spent the better part of the day trying to re-create the recipe. As far as I can tell, this is it: -

Twice-Blessed Soup

Master Vlemisk emerged yesterday, and told us that he has received Inspiration from his observations in the Stars. He has a proposal for a Grand Collaboration, an “Earth-Shattering” work of Art. While I may have been hired rather than invited, I consider myself as much an Artist as anybody in this house, and so, I have decided to support their endeavor. Master Vlemisk said that the artists would need their strength, so I have devised a recipe that will give them the energy to complete their part of the task. As this Collaboration, whatever it is, will certainly require both the inspiration of Guile and the skill of Lethe, I have named this the Twice-Blessed Soup, it is, appropriately enough, based on a fusion of two recipes. One I learned from a Carpenter who came to fix the house some years ago, the other I learned from a man who claimed to be part of a traveling circus. Whether he was or not, he tricked me into trading a half-pound of high-quality pepper for a “Rare and Exotic Spice” that turned out to be simple dried parsley dyed with crushed blueberry, so I consider Guile’s hand is well in this recipe.

-

Star-Signed Cake

Master Vlemisk brought the Artists up to his observatory the other day to show them his “Vision”, and to outline the Collaboration. I don’t know what he said, but it must have been inspiring. Since then, they have all been working tirelessly. I’ll admit, I don’t understand much of what they’re talking about, and the designs seem largely abstract, which surprises me, as Mister Vlemisk has always seemed to prefer more traditional styles. Regardless, I have created the following to serve at the celebratory meal after the Collaboration is complete.

-

Herb-Roasted Chicken

I learned this recipe from my mother, and cooking it always makes me calm. I’m in need of calm these days. The Collaboration has begun in earnest. They are carving and painting. I once thought their designs merely Abstract, but, looking at them makes my eyes water., Anna and Josephine have seemingly been playing their music for three days straight. Perhaps it is the lack of sleep, but I could swear they are physically changing as well. 

I asked Artyom if this was all necessary, and he assured me it was. He said he would explain everything tomorrow. 

So, while I try to get to sleep over the sound of that music, here’s my latest take on Herb-Roasted Chicken.

-

Boar’s Flank Stew

The Astronomer explained everything, it’s more wondrous and horrifying than I could ever imagine. I don’t fully understand everything, but I know enough to see the importance of this work. Some of the other servants refused to accept it, and had to be let go. They intend to leave in the morning. I was worried, but The Astronomer assured me that they wouldn’t be a problem. “The Hounds always Hunger,” he said. 

Anyway, that got me thinking about what I like when I’m hungry. Stew!  Anyway, here’s a recipe.

-

Green Sky Curry

The Astronomer rewarded me the other day. I ventured through the portal and saw the place between worlds, and from that place, I saw the weaving infinite, the places touched by the Key before it’s cruel mutilation by the Tyrant’s Hound. My mind was opened. I saw the most beautiful sights I had ever seen. I added my tears to the waters of the Drowned City, of what that great nexus had become without the Key’s guidance. From there, the paths took me to a field under an emerald green sky. I wandered that field for hours, collecting and sampling the plants. From those plants, I have extracted a spice that serves as the central flavor in this curry.

[cursewoodrecap]

Session 5: Askew

This episode: We meet some very strange people, and go to a very strange place.

Contractor Darius firmly escorts Valeria and Gral out of the Baroness’s hall, but he’s chill about it. Nothing personal, we’re just trying to keep the talk about this madman on the down low. We’ve had some suspicious activity around here lately, see. We Cursebreakers got our hands on some important books recently, and Witness Beatrice was just getting started on translating some of the more suspect tomes. Two days later, the library mysteriously burned to the ground. Now I’m not sayin’ it was the Penitents. We don’t have proof. But...well, you see why we’re being careful with news of anyone touched by the Curse.

Gral and Valeria are quite understanding, but they’d also like to take Darius up on his offer to meet this “madman.” Why not go right now?

Meanwhile, Clem goes armor shopping and meets some nice lesbian weaponsmiths at Hammerstein and Sons - Ms. Hammerstein, and her business partner Ms. Sons. Sadly, she finds out that armor and silvered weapons are ‘spensive. Shoshana is wandering the city, noticing that while people give her funny looks, nobody really gives her any crap about her mildly cursed appearance. Clearly, this is an opportunity to hang out in bookstores and impulse-buy unhealthy food. Nobody invites them to come interrogate the madman. Ahem. Anyway.

Darius brings the two adventurers into a narrow hallway in the repurposed mining office that the Cursebreakers took over after the library burned down. Several offices have been converted into sturdy jail cells. Only one of them is occupied. There’s a bed, and there’s easels everywhere, holding half-finished paintings, ink drawings, and charcoal sketches. Pots of paint and other art supplies are scattered around haphazardly.

“He’s weird but we’re pretty sure he’s harmless,” Darius tells them. “Bea comes in to cast Detect Magic once a day to see if he’s up to something, but she’s never found anything.”

Valeria inspects the various half-finished paintings. They’re mostly landscapes. She sees:

-a frozen ocean crashing up against bright purple cliffs, under a sky with five moons

-an owl that turns into a lizard partway through, casting a human shadow. The ground beneath it is breaking apart, opening a pit to darkness.

-a cavernous landscape filled with bones, a grim city looming in the darkness above

-the biggest canvas is full of nothing but very finely-detailed abstract shapes in a psychedelic swirl of colors. Only a small patch of the huge canvas is filled. There is no overarching pattern, just random but elaborate shapes and lines.

Sitting at the big canvas, there is a gaunt elf in ragged clothes. Fresh clothing is folded nearby within his reach, but he hasn’t touched it. Gral notices that there’s something weird about him - the elf’s proportions are juuuust slightly off, pushing him slightly into the uncanny valley. He turns to face them. His eyes are very, very wide, and they are all-black and full of stars.

He notices the group and politely inquires: “Hello. Is the key here?”

“The key?”

“Yes, I think I could be ready to leave soon.”

The adventurers ask if he knows why he’s in here.

“The very nice knights gave me this room to work on my paintings. They’re things I saw when I was elsewhere. I like to refresh my memory.” He points at the grim city. “I’m missing something here….”

Gral politely introduces himself and Valeria.

“Hello, I am the painter. Well, a painter. I’m the only painter here so I might as well be The. Unless one of you paints? No? Very well, the Painter I am!”

Gral inquires of Darius how long ago this odd gentleman was found. Darius says it’s been maybe two or three months? Not long after the mists started happening. The Condotierri found him wandering in a farmer’s field.

Gral turns to the Painter: “Do you know about the lake nearby?"

“Oh yes!  I’m very familiar with it!”

“Have you seen the mists?”

“No. Although it makes sense that there would be mists, that’s where mists should happen.”

Valeria brings us back on topic. “How did you get to ‘elsewhere?’”

“Oh, the Key brought me.”

Gral: “...What, or who, is the Key?”

“That is a very complicated question. I’ve asked the Astronomer that many times, and he was always frustratingly vague.”

“The Astronomer?”

“Yes, the Astronomer, he’s the one who told me about the Key. I’m working on a portrait of it!” He gestures to the huge abstract canvas. “I can only remember it sometimes.”

“Where did you meet this Astronomer?”

“In his house by the lake, that’s an awfully silly question.”

Valeria: “...Tell me more about your paintings. This one is super nice, tell me about it!” She points to the ocean landscape.

“Oh yes! That was beautiful, one of the first places I went from the Astronomer’s house. I don’t know if the others made it through in time. I lost my sketchbook somewhere. Unfortunately I didn’t have my paints with me.”

“...you went to these other places with others?

“Oh, well, that was the idea, but I ended up alone. The Astronomer, The Musicians, The Alchemist, the Sculptor, the other Painter – frankly he’s hideous and the world is better that he was left behind, or stuck between – I didn’t look back, there was too much to see in front of me.”

Valeria elbows Gral. “You’re a musician.”

“So I am! Did these musicians happen to be orcs?”

The painter doesn’t know what “orc” means, so Gral takes off his mask and asks if the musicians looked like him. Nope. Glancing between the orc Gral, the dragonborn Valeria, and the human Darius, he decides the musicians looked like - well, nobody here, but Darius more than anybody.

Moving on to the next painting, Valeria points at the owl-lizard creature. “What kind of creature is this?”

The Painter looks angry. “That’s the Destroyer. We had worked so hard for so long, and at the last moment, the triumph of success, it interrupted us.”

“What did it do?”

“I was on the other side, so I was only able to see, but not warn the others. It destroyed our art, our collaboration. What was to be a bridge is now trapped between the two, between here and there. Sometimes there’s a bit of a connection, but… that’s when I’m able to work on the portrait. I remember the Key.”

Valeria: "...Is the Key a physical object?”

“Are you?”

“…Generally speaking, yes?”

“Not entirely, no, but less than you are.”

“Is the key alive?”

“Partially. Partially. It was killed, but it’s alive. Maybe. It should be more. These are some very odd questions!”

Valeria is pretty frustrated by all the riddles. “It doesn’t sound like your key is entirely anything!”

“Well, it might have been one day. If there’s any of it left. That’s why we tried so hard to reach it. The Astronomer especially. He was the first to see it. He organized the collaboration. I was the only one to make it through. 

It hasn’t been so bad since I’ve been back. The small one comes to play chess with me, but she’s really bad at it. Doesn’t know any of the rules.”

“What happened to the Astronomer?”

"He is where the house is. I don’t know which side of the house he’s on, this one or the other side.”

Next painting. What’s up with this city of bones?

“The Key wasn’t WITH me, but it helped me. It sent me places. And yes, it was a rather gloomy place, I did not care for it. Impressive visual, but poor lighting.”

“Was anything there alive and moving?”

“Alive no, moving yes. I’ve left those bits out, it’s more of a landscape. What’s the opposite of still life? Moving dead? I’m sure the OTHER painter would have loved it. But I capture sublime beauty, thank you very much. Is that all? Thanks for the appreciation, but I must get back to work on the portrait. I remembered some of it last night, and those memories don’t stay.”

Gral: “Where are the other collaborators now?”

“Some of them might be in the house, some might be wandering. I barely know why I’m here! I doubt the Astronomer left the house, he loves it. It was his place.”

Valeria asks whether the Astronomer would mind if we paid the house a visit.

“Oh, he loves guests!” An insight check reveals the painter is entirely sincere, and madder than a box of rabbits

He turns away from our heroes and gets back to work, almost trance-like in his movements.

Darius is pretty impressed. “You caught him on a good day. Usually he’s worse, you can’t get him away from painting at all. The paints keep him calm. Me or Quentin will try to talk to him, but this is the most we’ve gotten in a while. He’s usually better after the mists come, which is NOT a comforting thought.”

Gral is fixated on the idea of other worlds. When the terrible creature came upon his expedition, Gral saw a kind of warping in space. “The painter’s madness resembles some of the whisperings upon the air when that creature growled. I think there is truth to what he’s saying, just not our truth. And we know there’s something at the lake. Have you found the Astronomer?” 

They haven’t. In fact, this is the first time he’s ever been mentioned. The guy hasn’t really given us anything about what he saw in the mists. You might want to talk to Bea about the astronomer? She used to be local record-keeper. She has a shrine to Torme in the basement - all the books she could recover from the library fire. Don’t spook her, please.  Also, Quentin’s gonna want an answer about the Mornheim expedition sooner rather than later. 

It’s roughly around here that Clem and Shoshana’s players insist on Showing Back Up. Shoshana is eating some sort of absurd ice cream wrapped in fried dough, because no one was there to stop her.

Gral recounts the audience with the Baroness and the meeting with the Painter, and tells Shoshana and Clem the harrowing story of the Curse’s Champion. “I know the Champion’s in the painter’s story somewhere – not sure if it’s the Key, or the Destroyer. But I don’t like any of it. He has probably seen the Champion.”

We ruminate on the idea of this Key taking things Elsewhere. “When the Champion attacked, it ripped the space around it. Maybe it took the encampment’s tents somewhere else instead of destroying them?”

Maybe this Key is a connection to other dimensions. If that’s the case, Gral contends, the connection is sentient. And sometimes mean. Perhaps, if he had followed the beckoning whispers that accompanied the fearsome beast, maybe he would have ended up in the fantastical places in the paintings.

Our problem: CAN we do anything? We’re low-level, dimensional portals are probably not weak to “being hit with sword,” and we have to face the possibility that, like in a Fantasy HP Lovecraft novel (he’s very racist toward orcs), we will be exposed to Weird Shit Man Was Not Meant To Know and end up as nutty as the painter. Also, like, the dead rising in Mornheim might be a priority?

Gral holds firm. “I can’t overstate how important this is. Sooner or later – I don’t know the agenda of this champion, but everyone in this town will die at its hands.”

He bows his head. “I’ve been living for a long time to just see this thing dead, but when I heard its growl last night I just wanted to run and hide. Still. I’ve heard it speak, so I believe it has a body. And if we can find out what that body is - if we know what it is, and where it is, we can figure out what its weakness is.”

Undecided if or when to investigate the Astronomer’s lake house in regards to this mystery, we decide to first take Darius’s suggestion and speak to Witness Beatrice, the cleric of Torme who rescued books from the library fire.

As we go down towards the basement, Clem pulls Gral aside. “Gral, I’m so sorry – I didn’t know that any of that happened to you. I kind of understand where you’re coming from, back with your unit. So if you ever feel like you need to talk, please know that I’m here for you.”

Gral shrugs. “It’s not something I like to remember. Part of me’s scared, part is mad, part is excited I can finally kill this thing. But I have to know what it is first if I’m going to have any hope of killing it..”

Clem nods grimly. “Believe me, I would LOVE to help you kill this thing.”

We head down to the basement. It’s cluttered with bookshelves - some carry old mining records, but most are groaning under a haphazard collection of singed books. There is a small shrine to Torme, the god of knowledge and law, in the corner. It takes a moment amidst the clutter, but Gral spots a small halfling woman muttering to herself and organizing one of the shelves. Gral takes his mask off, knowing that most non-orcs find it unsettling, and calls out a cheery, “Hello!”

She looks up at us from behind big ol coke-bottle glasses. We are all super visually intimidating and armed, because adventurers. She eeps! and hides behind a shelf. “DARIUS!”

Darius scolds us for frightening her after he specifically told us not to, and tells her it’s okay, these guys came and brought Morozov a dead body and an animal skin - wow, okay, that doesn’t actually help make them less scary. Anyhow they’re allies.

She insists he leave his bird, Daikon, down here with her if we’re gonna be large and scary and stuff.

Turns out that when the library burned, she had just begun a research project on several rare texts that might have clues to the Curse: “The Song of Druids,” “The Temptation of Fiends,” and a gruesome collection of essays on undead compiled by a mad necromancer.

Gral asks if any of the texts mentioned keys or gateways.

Bea: “Portals to the Abyss, maybe? I didn’t get very far before the fire.” She shows us a glass case. There are several fragile books inside, badly burned. 

She also tells us the Painter’s name is Johann. “I don’t think he knows how the rules of chess work? He picked up a pawn and started painting on it and said that it was a fish. Then he put it in my water glass. Which makes sense, in a way? But I was drinking that.”

When we mention an Astronomer with a lake house, though, something rings a bell. She hunts through the shelves for an old book of maps, left over from when this was a mining office. One of us tall folks kindly gets it off the top shelf.

There! On one of the islands in the lake. There’s supposed to be a home here – right over the cave system they were mapping. A manor house, belonging to one Artyom Vlemisk. A land grant from the old baron to his friend. Bea thinks back: “Yeah, astronomer Artyom! I remember when he came to town, just when I was starting out – he had a bit of an artists’ colony out in his observatory. I mean, we assumed the artists’ colony died a long time ago. Daikon did a sweep, over the entire lake, and we didn’t see the house anymore. When mists first came, we assumed they all got Got. A lot of the people close to the lake have died in the mists, especially down in the fishing village.”

Bea uses a neat magic trick to instantly transcribe us a copy of the map. She was up by the lake not long ago -  she stopped by when Darius was surveying the lake bed (using Daikon, who was an octopus at the time) & Quentin was off with Ser Balderich. There’s some guys from Sturmhearst College who set up on edge of lake. They say they’re here to “study the anomalies,” and they’ve set up shop in an abandoned church, calling it a “staging ground.” It might be easier to get them to take us across to the island - the fishermen probably won’t want to risk their boats. They’re led by a Professor Quercus, who specializes in “aberrant biology.” Bea marks the church on the map for us.

With business out of the way, Valeria can’t help but feel a Powerful Need to do something nice for Bea, and produces her book of tales of the Peacock Knight to help Bea rebuild her library. Bea has a copy of the same tales, but it’s a singed and battered old one, and Valeria happily swaps it for her pristine illustrated copy so the library can have something nice. 

We decide to go down to the lake to check it out. We still have five days before we have to give Ser Quentin an answer about Mornheim, and since the mists just came last night, we are maybe less likely to get caught in them again if we go soon. Also, we’re just gonna take a casual look around for an afternoon; we don’t have to get into anything too crazy. Right? 

We bop on down to the lake. Sure enough, there’s a damaged old stone churchy building, patched with leather tarps. Lights are flashing behind the windows. Someone has put a wooden sign up out front, reading “Sturmhearst College of the Natural Sciences, Holzog Annex. est. [last Tuesday]” 

A pair of hulking dudes all in black leather, with big hats and owl masks stand impassively at the gate, armed with big ol’ clubs. They eerily turn in weird unison to look at us as we walk down the path towards them. Clem waves. Valeria waves. Shoshana finger guns. One of them awkwardly tries to finger gun back.

There’s a bell on a pole near the front gate, labeled “please ring for entrance.” Shosha theatrically pulls the ding dong. A figure in a long-beaked bird mask peeks out of the door. “Um, yes, we’re not buying any, go away.”

“Hey, can we use one of your boats?”

“Uh. You’d have to talk to the professor, I guess. I’m just a researcher”

“Oh, is the professor the one in the bird mask?”

“Is this a joke? ...No, really, is that a joke? I’m studying humor. Well, the humors. I’ve been theorizing that maybe comedy affects the balance.”

Behind him, through the door, there is a cacophony of noise. Growl, clatter, crash, explosion! The researcher goes to check, we wait a moment, and then the door opens. “The professor is now available.”

The researcher, who we dub Frederick, leads us into a decently sized church. Folks in bird masks are hurriedly dragging something into basement. It’s under  a tarp. It’s vaguely dog shaped, but big. It also looks like a buncha stuff just got crashed over. There’s another owl guard standing there, holding a weird contraption. It’s vaguely smoking, crossbowlike, and smells of ozone? Whatever it is, I want one the next time we go in the woods.

We are approached by a fellow in a white leather coat, wearing a fancier bird mask than the others. He walks up to Valeria. “Ah! Hello there! Mister…mis…are you a boy or a girl?”

“Um, Kyr Valeria Argent, she/her pronouns?”

“Ah, good. My usual method of determining gender of reptilian organisms would be quite rude!”

IT SURE WOULD, I BET.

“Anyway, why do you want a boat?”

“For science?” we try. Before he can call us on the cliche, he distractedly dives under a table and grabs at a rolling object. 

“Sorry, sorry, I didn’t want to lose the orb! It got knocked down during a…football game. That we were having. Yes. I don’t want it to accidentally take root, it would be an awful waste!”

We inform him that we are investigating what used to be a manor built on the lake. An artist colony, disturbed by the mist. Perhaps even movement between dimensions! Have you ever heard of anything like that?”

“Oh, how fascinating! Have I heard of such a…transference? WHAT NO OF COURSE I HAVEN’T. BUT IT WOULD BE QUITE SOMETHING.”

Insight check: he’s lying through his beak. He IS super fascinated by a transference on that scale, but yes, there is super shady shit happening here. We don’t push further, but he bustles over to a table of various strange objects.

“A quest as worthy as this must be done post haste! And I should give you some assistance! That is what one does when asking a group of valiant heroes to quest for knowledge, yes? Take one of these things, they’re magic. Student inventions, you see.” He offers us three options:

1: A rectangular wooden box with a weird putty inside. The putty apparently works similarly to the Mending cantrip, but is especially intended to repair things that have been burned.

2: A ceramic tile with a hole in the middle and a tortoiseshell on the back. It’s a method of acquiring fresh water – it absorbs water from air, or uses a form of the Create Water spell. He’s not really sure! Boop the shell button and you get a stream of fresh water.

3: A weird misshapen orb of plant matter they found in woods. If you throw it to the ground, it makes vines happen. Frederick got stuck in it! You could use it to make rope, or climb a wall. It grows quite quickly if planted or thrown! 

We choose the burn repair gel, hoping it might help Witness Beatrice.

He also insists on giving us a red journal in which to record our notes. We all acknowledge he is definitely using us as unpaid research assistants.

“Oh, by the way. Standard procedure for sending out expeditions: do you know what a homunculus is?” (Valeria does. It’s like a familiar, but crafted out of alchemy. They’re not necessarily evil? Super weird, tho.) 

“I have one named Gray. Though he’s really rather more of a blue color. He’s got quite a keen sense of smell, so in case you do not return, please let him sniff you so we can track you and recover your research notes. What’s that, Frederick? Oh. Oh dear! To shreds, you say?” 

Frederick nods.

“Well! Please leave an article of clothing, perhaps a sock? He will have to smell you later, when he’s a bit more put together.” Gral gives him a bit of sleeve. He tells us to stick together, so they can find all of us if they track Gral. Splitting the party is not university policy!

As we’re merrily heading out, the DM admits he’s surprised he kept a straight face for the whole scene. And then slyly tells us to google the meaning of the name “Quercus.”

The Professor’s name. Is Oak. 

...the laughing DM narrowly avoids being pummeled, by virtue of being several hundred miles away. Valeria’s player is revealed to have been a willing accomplice in the whole gag. 

For the record, the three items he offered us? A Char Mender, a Squirt Tile, and a Bulbous Orb.

Revenge will be had, DM. When you least expect it.

Aaaaaanyway.

They let us borrow a dinghy, which we all pile into - nobody has boat proficiency, but we do fine on the basis of nobody wants to spend an hour doing a “did anyone fall overboard and get wet” sidequest. A fish looks at us. It has three eyes. It is not a chess pawn.

We can see houses with docks on the edge of lake. They’re badly damaged and falling apart. There were never many people on the lake islands, but when the mists first rose, everyone on islands got real dead, real quick.

The middle of largest island is where the astronomer’s house was. This is not a particularly deep tangle of wood. The whole place seems pretty tame. The trees aren’t too thick, and there’s a paved road right to a large clearing.

According to the map, there should be a large house here. There is not. Instead, there is a giant hole in ground. We peer into it and see the splintered but surprisingly intact remains of the manor house – like a sinkhole opened up directly under it. Valeria throws a rock in the hole, as an experiment. We observe normal rock in hole behavior, and write it down, for science. It’s about a 50ft deep hole. Seems like there was a cave down there? The house is awkwardly sitting in it, looking weirdly intact for a house that fell in a sinkhole.

We rappel down into the pit. It’s weirdly quiet. Closer up, we can see the house has been painted all over with weird geometric patterns and lines. There are bits of carved stone nailed to house in a big massive design of shifting colors and shapes. The designs are broken up a good deal by the collapse of house. Seems like even the house itself was a giant weird abstract art project? We wonder if it’s the same pattern as the Painter’s “portrait,” but we don’t roll well enough to figure out if it is.

Heading in, we find ourselves in a crumpled hallway. The weird patterns continue along the walls. There are 4 doors; 2 on each side. The end of hallway is rubble.

We open the closest door on left: it’s a painter’s studio. There are easels and spilled paint, and there’s a human skull on floor. There’s sketches. Looks like this painter was painting the skull. Shosha takes a sketch, for souvenir reasons. The art is all really macabre, lots of battle scenes There’s a rack of weapons and a mirror, clearly for art references. One wall has a crazy mural of impossible battle scene. Knights are fighting weird monsters. There’s fire and shooty glowing lights. The characters don’t have the cultural context to describe wtf it is, but the players are told it’s very King Arthur vs. Flash Gordon. There’s also a nice, if cliché, Rack in Chains painting.

Next up is the sculptor’s studio. Lots of big marble blocks. The pattern on the walls has continued through both rooms. In the middle of the room there’s an unfinished sculpture of...something weird? It’s clearly unfinished, but there’s, like, an arm and torso stickin’ out. Wtf is that supposed to be? Also, there’s a bunch of symbols and shapes carved into the wall and into blocks of marble, as if the sculptor was practicing them. They get more regular. Some are carved on statue. Shoshana tries to copy them into our Pokedex journal, but starts getting headache staring at them for so long. Roll initiative. Wait, what?

Wait. That shape wasn’t there before...is it moving? A carved fold in sculpture opens up to reveal a maw of stony teeth. A blue-purple tendril emerges from the mouth and the whole thing kind of inverts itself into a big teeth-and-eyes-everywhere guy. WELP. SCP jokes are made.

It proceeds to smack Shoshana with a pseudopod. Hissss! She instinctually swats back, Primal Savagery giving her unnatural claws. But it’s immune to acid damage, which her claws do for some weird mechanics reason. RUDE. Gral fails to insult it. Then, a clatter of metal - the swords from previous room flying through the air! There is a crackling as lightning comes out of the pattern along the walls. The lightning grabs the swords and pulls them through the air along the lines of the pattern, like a Mag-lev train, and attack Valeria and Gral. Clem smacks a mimic with a sword, which is very helpful, since it has just reduced Shoshana to 0 hp. Gral Healing Words her up, though. Shosha MAX DMGs Burning Hands, killing the mimic. A dozen mouths open as if to scream, and what comes out is a weird discordant song. It burns and starts to shrivel up in front of us. Valeria snaps one of the swords, Shoshana flames another, and the final one rolls a natural -3 and self-destructs in shame.

We decide we no longer want to be in the sculptor’s studio.

The door across the hall opens into a large lounge. There’s a bar, bookshelves, and tables. We flip through the books. Most are about art history. They’re super moldy, though. We also find a book of cocktails, written in Kevan, and immediately start making puns. The Boozenomicon. The Negroni-nomicon? By the Mixologist of Minsk. Miska-TONICS? Mixa-tonics? Obviously by Sturmhearst University press. Clem also finds 2 bottles of fancy high-elven vodka, worth 25gp each. Valeria finds scattered sheet music for 2 songs: one is called “Requiem for the Prisoner;” the other is “The Opening of the Ways.” Naturally, she gives the music to the bard.

Next up is the kitchen. The scattered mess and wall patterns continue through it. Chained to the wall, we find a heavily annotated cookbook. Clem takes it and decides to flip through. It’s written like an eldritch recipe blog, and we definitely gotta have it. Loot!

An awful, acrid chemical scent is coming from the next room. It appears to be the alchemist’s lab, which is definitely not a thing you put next to a kitchen, home designers. We all roll Con saves versus being sickened by the fumes. In the middle of the room lies a decaying body - the alchemist herself. A medicine check reveals a head injury - she was likely concussed or knocked out when the house fell, preventing her from escaping the toxic chemical fumes of her shattered laboratory. 

Gral finds a notebook labeled “Property of Dr. Alicia Keene”. It describes certain paints that she was inspired to create – formulas for various pigments and art materials. “While I do not have a direct role in the collaboration, I was inspired to create the wondrous pigments Johann and Musalt will need for their parts, though some of the ingredients for the pigments must be acquired from Beyond. Artyoum has assured me that the Lurker and his Hounds will not bother me as I gather them.”

We also gather three potions, labeled A, B, and Q. The DM has not decided what they are yet, but he’ll stat them at some point, if we ever remember we looted them. Shosha also finds a sealed tin labeled “Paint: Reserved for Collaboration.”

Clem, as we loot evidence, notices a weird puddle. Drip. Drip. She looks up and a slimy mass is clinging to the ceiling. It drops onto us and tries to eat us, but we skedaddle outside the room, far outpacing its slow oozing speed.

As we climb upstairs, we start to hear faint music. It echoes down a long hallway filled with doors. Like dumb teens in a horror movie, we go directly toward it.

Inside the conservatory, the painted patterns swirl in complex detail across the floor, centering on a single music stand. The walls are lined with mirrors, but we notice with unease that we don’t reflect in them. The reflection seems to show the room we’re in, but instead of us there are two women, distorted and lanky with unnaturally long fingers, surrounded by floating musical instruments. One is playing a violin, the other a flute. Gral, having read the sheet music, recognizes they are playing “Requiem for the Prisoner.” 

As we enter the room, they look at us and stop playing. They spare a glance at each other, raise their instruments once more, and continue playing. But this time, it’s a different song. We hear the opening bars of “The Opening of the Ways,” and the patterns across the floor begin to glow faintly. Cracks in the mirrors begin to emit the same soft glow, and the odd colorful light begins to extend past the edges of the mirror. Mist begins to pour from the cracks.

A sensible adventuring party would have fled, escaping the house before things could go very, very sideways. The DM explicitly gave us the option. But since when has “sensible” ever described an adventuring party? We wanna see what’s gonna happen. 

We are declared certified Dumbasses by the DM, and we are about to go on a very strange journey through the looking-glass.

All PCs are now level 4.

[cursewoodrecap]

Session 8:  Difficult Neighbors

You’d think the time in between fighting monsters would be chill, but no. We finish up in Holzog, gear up for Mornheim, and deal with the one thing worse than monsters: locals.

We get down to brass tacks with appraisin’ items and stocking up. Gral and Valeria find out what their violin strings and Eyegis do, though the rest of  us will have to find out later. Valeria makes some holy water and Shoshana brews up a couple of healing potions during our downtime.

We briefly debate whether to tell Quentin everything. We decide we’re for it; he’s working with the Cursebreakers, and they’re the organization that can best use the info we’ve found to connect the dots on how the Curse works and how to fight it.

“It’s still a hot take that the Curse had agenda, and now we know it has 4 agendas and 4 bodies, all under some powerful ward? They’ve got to know that.”

We go to the mining guild office where the Cursebreakers are. We are all visually searched. Witness Beatrice searches the ladies, which is a fairly chill affair since she can be pretty easily told to back off. Clem is fine; this is not her first strip-search or invasive interrogation, she tells us. What?

Gral has no such luck, and is being searched by Ser Quentin. “Well, sir Orc? Lose ‘em.” His hands are exceptionally cold. (Gral does want a professional to take a look, but. A little bedside manner, Q?)

While the girls are downstairs in Bea’s library, Valeria remembers: “Oh! We have thing for you!” We give her the Char Mender, and Bea totally forgets about strip searching us. Her eyes light up and she takes it to the cabinet of charred books.

We discover we have enough Char Mender to repair one book.  (We should have evolved it, maybe.)

Bea focuses on 3 rare tomes that she believes were the target of the arson. “And it was arson, unless fires start on one end of the library, and then when I go to put that one out, another fire starts on the other end.

The books we must choose between:

The Study of Fiends, a demonology study commissioned by the Church of Torme. Unfortunately, the results ended up being a little too much of a how-to for summoning demons, so they never completed the full publication run, and it’s an extremely rare book. It regards demons and how they operate, different individual demons and what offers they are likely to make, the types of deals they make with people, etc.

Songs of the Druids, a study of the druids of the Greatwood, regarding their methods and secrets. There’s a lot of legend and poetry rather than purely academic research, but it’s the closest thing anyone’s ever really made to a comprehensive collection of information about them.

The Grimscale Essays, a collection of essays on necromancy and the undead, recovered from a Draco-Aquilian necromancer’s tower. It is banned to use the knowledge in these essays, but it is a valuable collectors’ item and may offer insights on how the undead function.

Though our upcoming trek to Mornheim tempts us toward the necromancy book, we select Team Druid, to know about our potential allies. Bea sighs wistfully. “That book had some beautiful illustrations. I hope those get restored too”

“Also, If Morozov asks - he was less interested in that one, but I’m gonna say you made me do it OKAY BYEEEE”

After we’ve all got our pants on again, Ser Quentin has us tell him everything. We do, withholding nothing except our spaceship adventure. Unfortunately, he’s an Inquisitive Rogue, and nobody lies to him. We fail our deception checks hard, so Shoshana awkwardly tries to explain their adventure on a space ship without having any idea of what a space ship is. It’s pretty disjointed, but she musters the defense that talking about the Confusing Forbidden Knowledge could have been a good way to get More Cursed. Fair enough. He can tell that we’ve got nothing else to hide, anyway.

“If what you say is true, you slew these musicians, who were responsible for the mist in the valley. If so, I guess we’ll have to see what happens. In the meantime it is now vitally important that I take these notes on your travels, make my way to Hoska Castle, and report to the other Cursebreakers. There are records there I will need to consult. The ‘Key’ you mention – my order is one of seekers of knowledge. So you can understand why I’m a little concerned that this is the very instinct targeted by one of our adversaries.”

We look at the tapestry again, to see if we can figure out any clues about the Prisoners. The foreground one has its antler helmet and wolf skin cloak - clearly the entity we know as The Hunt. The other figures are indistinct; the artist didn’t bother to differentiate them in this crude medium. All we can tell is that they are bound in roots.

We show Quentin the Eyegis. “In my professional expertise, this shield...is creepy. You should go ask an expert in magical items.”

Darius is called over to look at the Mysterious Pamphlet from the glove box. “Don’t some members of your order have the ability to read all tongues?” Sure, but he didn’t take Eyes of the Rune Keeper as one of his invocations though. Ooooops. 

Daikon receives scritches! He finds a seed in Shosha’s hair from the woods, and eats it.

Valeria tells Quentin about us choosing the Druid Book for Bea, Luckily, she successfully Persuades. He sighs. “Considering what we have learned, it does make the most sense. You got this repair substance from Sturmhearst? We’ll see if we can get any more.”

Oh yeah, those guys. We warn him that being so close to the mists of the Key, what with them being seekers of knowledge, is probably Less Than Optimal.

Ser Quentin looks down his nose at us. “We have explicit instructions not to antagonize Sturmhearst, as they are a valuable ally and formidable foe. You understand that Ser Brigid has done this with the explicit intention of making us keep a close eye on them, yes?”

Oh, he has one more important question re: Sturmhearst. “You told them you were going to investigate the house? In that case, Darius, please send a request to the Baroness and her Condotierri.”

“In three days, a supply caravan will leave for Mornheim. Be there that morning and I will brief you. In the meantime the Fairgolds have interceded to have some rooms prepared at the Greencloak Inn, and I recommend you take up those rooms. Our offices are less than comfortable. If we need to reach out to you, I expect we’ll send Daikon."

After we leave the office, Clem goes back to Hammerstein and Sons to get that sword silvered. “It’ll be 150g to coat your greatsword in silver, but it’ll be hard to get it done in three days; an extra 50g will get you to the front of my queue,” says Bluma Hammerstein. 

Clara Sons, her partner (business partner? life partner? We Just Dont’ Know), interjects “Bluma does have an apprentice she’s training; perhaps she could-“

“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to teach her the process. If you’re willing to let the kid work on your baby there, I can bypass the 50g.” 

“Is the kid proficient enough? I don’t wanna lose my ‘baby,’ as you call it.”

Bluma shrugs. “Ehhhhhhhhh? She’s very talented…yeah, sure, she’s a helluva hand with a whetstone, pretty good with a hammer, but this is a pretty complex process. Not gonna lie to ya: I think the kid can do it. And I’ll be there to supervise.”

Clem hands them her remaining bottle of High Elven vodka. If I give you this, will you be Extra Careful? They shake on it.

Clem also asks after a suit of splint mail. They have a Ventallan style one in the shop they could resize for her. Clara was refitting it for a Condotierri, but then he skipped out on paying, so they kept it. “It’ll cost 200g total. It’s quite a nice piece! I can get the black rook sigil off the shoulder for you.”

Clem’s about 40g short, and is thoroughly disappointed. Shoshana has come with, though, and has done all the shopping she needs to for her healing potions. And, because of the reward from Sturmhearst and Ser Quentin’s advance payment for the Mornheim expedition, still has more money in her pocket than she ever had as a poor villager.

“Here’s 50g,” she tells Clem. “Use it to not die; you can repay me by making sure I don’t die.”

Clem is ABSOLUTELY FLOORED. Why are you just giving me money??? It’s a pretty big thing for Clem. No one has ever given her money without expecting something in return???? What could Shoshana possibly mean by this huge gesture?????

Shoshana is like, no, we’re going to Mornheim, if we all die none of us can spend this cash.

“Oh, you’re going to MORNHEIM?!” Clara exclaims. “Here, why don’t I just inscribe a holy symbol of Lethe on that, free of charge.” She points to an absolutely destroyed chestpiece she has on her workbench. “That’s what’s coming back from Mornheim.”

Because Clem is an absurdly big lady, she needs a few parts taken from other pieces of armor around the shop to make it all fit. She has a Pretty Woman montage of coming out in different suits of armor for the armorsmiths and Shoshana. She ends up with kind of a hodgepodge of random armor. 

“What are your thoughts on asymmetrical shoulder pads? I’ve got one from an old elven regiment, but I’ve only got the left one.” It has a bit of filigree on it, but nothing as distinctive as a regimental insignia. Clem smiles nostalgically and says she’ll take it. 

Clara is momentarily distracted by Clem’s buff physique: “Nice shoulders.”

“Thanks, I made them myself?”

Anyway, we all agree that a clothing montage but with buff ladies in armor is The Future That Lesbians Want.

The Fairgolds want to party with us. Clem is like “are they paying?” No, so Clem’s out. 

Gral has his responsibility to perform the Death Song for his squadmates. We attend and listen to him sing their death songs to pay our respects. The DM is disappointed he doesn’t get to roll on the carousing table, but the mood is decidedly not carousing.

The next day, we wake and stretch. Clem is a little disturbed by the décor of the inn – it features elven helmets over the mantle, and the owner claims the original curtains were made of the green cloaks of elven officers. Clem was excited at first to hear about the Greencloak Inn, but less so now. The story is that rebels scared some elves out of their camp by imitating howls of wolves and owlbears, and then stole all their stuff. It’s just sort of awkward, even though Keva and Valdia are no longer enemies.

Shortly after the town gates open in the morning, a familiar cart pulls up, pulled by two large lizards. “Bjorn! Get us some rooms! Ingborg! See to the mounts! I require breakfast!”

Professor Lucinius Galvan enters the inn, looking a bit more tired and scarred than last time. “Bjorn, Ingborg, stay in the cart, you’ll scare the locals! Innkeep, I would like two rooms, one with the largest beds you have! Where might I find a library, or a local guide! Oh, perfect – wait, what do you mean there WAS a library?! OH HEY, KYR ARGENT! Bjorn, Ingborg, bring the luggage in!”

We greet Professor Galvan with open arms, mildly surprised he hasn’t been eaten. “Any luck on your expedition?”

“I found truly fascinating results! Also ghosts. I saw some skeletons, but only after Bjorn and Ingborg were done with them, so...fragments of skeletons.” 

“You’re certainly in capable hands with them,” Valeria accedes politely.

“I was able to dispatch the spectre who assaulted me. It was no match for good old Aquilian magic. The old spells still work! The good old ‘Scorpus Arcana,’ or ‘Magic Missile.’ They claim the new way’s more elegant, but is it really?”

Ooh, we ask him to tell us about the ghost.

“It was an Aquilian ghost! I attempted to ask it several questions, but it attempted to rip my face off. And truth be told, you don’t get a Ph.D. in archaeology without knowing when to abandon a line of inquiry!”

“I found the old Aquilian watchtower I was looking for! But the sigil for legion stationed here wasn’t for a standard flying legion. I’ve been trying to decipher exactly what their symbol means. I did find some records – inscriptions and pottery shards, describing how the Aquilians were working with locals. Very surprising! Especially with the Valdians’ reputation as - forgive me - rather backwards and uncooperative.”

The tower he’d found was clearly designed for both Aquilian (Aarakocra) AND terrestrial (human) soldiers and inhabitants! Elsewhere it wasn’t unheard of that they’d recruit locals, but the common narrative says that the locals were highly resistant to occupation. He’s been looking up stories about the original occupation from the perspective of the Valdians.

We tell him to go hit up Witness Beatrice if he’s looking for stories and knowledge. Also, Valeria takes the chance to talk to a proper magic practitioner. She says, “I found something interesting and, I wanted to ask you about it! Ser Quentin isn’t much for arcane artifacts, but you might be able to tell me what it does! And whether it’s going to multiply my eyes.”

“That’s a weird concern, but okay.” He examines the Eyegis. It behaves like a wizard’s familiar. One who is attuned to the shield can see through it so long as it is within a 120 foot range of the wielder. Valeria’s player LOVES it; Valeria accepts it warily.

Gral has already attached the strange violin strings to his lute and attuned (heh. TUNED), so he doesn’t need to Identify them. (He made a Deal with the Curse, the players find out, though he is not consciously aware of it.)

Valeria goes and introduces Lucinius to Bea, to make sure he doesn’t scare Bea. Bea is like “cool, a Professor!” Then she eeps and hides behind Valeria’s legs, because Valeria forgot to warn re: goliaths. Darius gives Valeria the stink eye for scaring Bea again.

Valeria makes sure to make her Holy Water out of water from the lake. Encouragingly, the Mist does not rise again during our time in Holzog.

We hang out with the Fairgolds. Flynn is a bit pompous, but likable once you get to know him. He and Fiona train every morning in the square. At night he’s busy telling stories and she’s busy drinking. There’s a portrait of them at their uncle’s inn of when they were younger. Flynn looks similar, but Fiona looks way different. Her hair is longer, and she’s not as muscled or scarred – she looks much more similar to her brother, and a lot happier. In the picture, she’s clutching a book. Shoshana, always interested in languages, learns a couple of Fiona’s hand signs over the next few days.

On Friday, we arrive at the Cursebreakers’ office early in the morning for a mission briefing. We approach to Morozov’s office. He hands us information packets, and begins his monologue:

“On my last expedition, as you may know, I was accompanied by squad of Elven veterans from an elite unit known as the Red Hand.” Clem nods intently. “They had worked with me on several other expeditions of a similar nature. Lady Aubrey von Mornheim, leader of the survivors of Mornheim, informed us of indications of some flavor of cult activity. We suspected perhaps a necromancer of some sort, but something odd happened as we neared the von Menzer family crypt, the resting place of noted mage Johann von Menzer, of Sturmhearst. Due to the patterns of undead activity, we believed this crypt was our goal.”

“We were attacked by an unusually large number of undead, working in concert. We were separated from one of their number, Sokolov.” Clem’s eyes widen as she seems to recognize the name, but she does not speak up. Quentin continues. “We were badly injured and I insisted we return to town. My companions refused to leave their comrade behind. I split with them and returned back to Mornheim to be in safety before the sun went down. They returned to Mornheim the next morning with Sokolov in tow, and immediately told me they’d no longer be in my service, effective immediately. I had to abandon the expedition.”

“Sokolov did not look especially well – not unusual for somebody trapped in that place. The strange thing is, and I mean no offense to your compatriots, Sgt. Haxan – I did use my contacts to have the Red Hand followed after they left service. I thought there was something off about them. Some left the wood, heading towards the Crownlands and old battlefields of the Ascension War. Some traveled as mercenaries, fighting for hire, never staying one place too long.”

He pulls out a map with pins stuck in it, red and black. “The red pins mark places that members of the Red Hand have stayed more than a single night. Black pins mark fresh instances of undead attacks.”

There is an obvious, recognizable correlation. “It’s not at every stop, but it always occurs about a week after they left. It’s not provable by any means; there’s no shortage of death in the Cursewood.”

Clem stands, her bulk becoming a menacing loom. “I’m sorry, are you implying that these men may have been behind these undead attacks?”

Ser Quentin is unmoved by her imposing presence. “I do not imply. I conclude, and I accuse. I am doing neither at this time. However, this obviously merits further investigation.”

“We learn nothing by sitting on our hands. Your mission is to enter the von Mentzer family crypt and find out what you can. If this is another one of these “prisoners,” I want to know everything you can find. A supply caravan leaves for mornheim tomorrow. I’ve hired the Fairgolds to help escort it – they will get the merchants there and back. You will not leave with the caravan. Stay in Mornheim and investigate as long as you feel able. You can reach out to me through any Cursebreaker outpost. Page 5 of your packet has names and addresses of those who can reach me. I will accompany you for the first leg of the journey, but part ways to go to Holska.”

“One more thing, Kyr Argent.” He hands her a sealed letter. “This is for the Lady Aubrey, please secure it among your belongings as you pack. It is a letter of introduction stating your mission and asking her to assist you.”

“Oh, and one more thing.” We hear armored boots click-clacking down the hallway. The door opens, we turn around, and the Baroness, somewhat disguised by a cloak, enters the room.

Valeria salutes.

“The Baroness would like to speak with you in private,” Quentin tells us. “Well, I’ll be here.”

The Baroness Francesca von Holzog appraises us with a calculating eye. “I take threats to Holzog very seriously.” Two knights enter behind her – one is a standard human Condotierri, while the other a is green skinned tiefling with solid red eyes and curling horns, wearing a black cape and fine armor with the Condotierri’s black rook sigil. “Now, allow me to introduce Captain Stefano Mozzeti, my cousin.”

He bows and says hello. The Baroness tells us, “He is the Captain of the Black Rook Condotierri, abd he would like to hear what you have to say as well. Ser Quentin has communicated a detailed report, and I have dispatched some of Mozzeti’s men to deal with Sturmhearst. They are an enemy I don’t enjoy making. Tell me what happened.”

Gral explains, rolling persuasion with Valeria helping. He reassures her that the musicians who were opening the portals are dead, and the mists should be gone for good.

“If a month passes and mists do not fill the valley, though they usually come once a week, we will see what we can do. The Condotierri are to search this house and burn any sheet music they find. Sturmhearst had already gone to the house, scattering like like pigeons when we kicked them out. I believe it would be unwise for them to have access to this music. If you truly have rid my barony of this threat, come to me in a month’s time and we will see if there is a reward for you.”

Captain Stefano looks Gral in the eye, as well as he can through Gral’s mask. “Orc, if those mists come back and my men die, you better be confident. If they die, and they were guarding that damned house in that damned hole, do not return to Holzog.”

“Yes, I would consider it a failure on my part,” Gral agrees.

“No, we would have….how you say, beef.”

Gral responds in his most diplomatic tone. “The Key works by getting agents. We want to stop it getting more agents in Sturmhearst, and you are doing that work to keep us safe.”

Still giving their best intimidating vibes, the Baroness and her cousin swoosh outtie. The Crown, everybody!

Clem rolls a few dice, as we return to Hammerstein and Sons later that day. 17! We find Bluma and Clara and a teenage girl. Clara has the armor, painted and dyed mainly a dark muted red-orange, with black trim, to make the cobbled-together set of armor a little more cohesive. She has drawn a little clementine tree on the pauldron. 

Bluma says “All right, Reyna, c’mon, give the drow lady her sword back.” 

The teen, hands shaking a little, gives Clem the greatsword, wrapped in cloth. “I silver-plated it for you, ma’am, Miss Bluma was watching me and I think I did a pretty good job.”

Bluma smiles. “The kid did fine. I got a dummy set up out back if you wanna test out the edge.” It’s kept its edge! Good rolls mean the trainee didn’t screw it up. At first glance, it still looks like dark elven steel. (This was NOT standard issue for the Red Hand, Clem stole it off some cultist during the war, probably.) She has to look very closely to see waves of silver worked in. There are no imperfections or nicks, and the edge is sharper since it’s freshly whetted. 

“We’ve got a patented technique here in Holzog, leads to that nice wavy pattern. Recommend us to your friends, here’s a card,” Bluma tells her.

Clem approaches the apprentice, Reyna, and tells her, “It looks perfect. You are a credit to your family and your community. I thank you.” Reyna immediately tears up. “Sorry, we shoulda warned ya,” Bluma whispers. “She’s from out in the woods. Don’t think her family made it. We haven’t been pressing. We’ve kinda taken her in.” We bid a fond goodbye to the nice lesbians, and head on out.

In the morning, we meet in town square. We’re traveling with a merchant named Feivel, his drivers and three carts. One is loaded with food, one with medicine and building supplies, and the third has smaller locked chests and has room for passengers. We get on the road! It should be 4 days of travel to Mornheim.

1st day: no incident. We stop in a small village and camp in the town square, since there’s no inn big enough. Flynn entertains some children, telling a story about fighting a “moss ogre,” and then they play moss ogre and he lets several children take him down with sticks. Fionna watches and laughs. Her laugh is a weird wheeze, like she can’t quite form the sounds.

The second day is less peaceful. Along the road, Valeria nat 20’s a perception check and hears a person running through the woods – panting breath, tearing frantically through the trees, stumbling over brush – some medium-sized humanoid running desperately. Behind her, there are sounds of heavy footsteps and ferocious growls as she bursts onto path. 

It’s a terrified-looking red-haired human teenager. “MONSTERS! HELP!” 

Valeria is ON IT, positioning her formidable self between the woods and the carts.

“They’re right behind me!” the girl says, gasping for breath as she reaches the wagons. “At least three of them! Big, with sharp teeth and long- long claws! I think there’s others with them. Bandits, maybe?”

Shoshana insight checks her, and she genuinely seems terrified. “Feivel, we got incoming!” the sorceress calls. The Fairgolds step up next to Valeria to defend the carts.

The sounds of monsters get closer, but Something Is Wrong. The sounds aren’t getting close as fast as we would have expected? And then we hear something behind us – something on the other side of the carts.

The ‘terrified’ girl has a gun to Feivel’s head, and a line of bandits step out from among the trees.

A sly-looking halfling speaks for the group: “Bonjour, madams et monsieurs, my name is Henri deCannes, and these are the Free Thieves of Valdia. It is my unfortunate duty to inform you that we are robbing you today. I will not be so crass as to deny you your weapons, but you would please hand over all your valuables, if you will not mind. We will place all your weapons in this sack, and we shall put it in that tree. Then you can go get it, once we are gone.”

It’s right around here that we realize Ser Quentin is nowhere to be seen. Also his stuff is gone. Fuckin’ rogues with high Insight, amirite?

Shoshana raises her hand, like a kid in school. “Uh, we have like four knights with us?”

“Yes, that is why we are attempting to resolve this peacefully. Disarm, please.”

Shoshana places her staff primly across her knees, waiting to see what everyone else is going to do.

Flynn and Fiona are watching us, but like hell Fiona’s gonna disarm. It’s clear she’ll bust some heads first. No one else moves to give this guy their swords.

“My, so ferocious! And is that an orc with you! I must hear this story someday.” 

Gral snarks, “You don’t make a good first impression.”

“Oh? If I am befriending you, I am not robbing you. If I befriend and then rob you, I am betraying a friend, and that would be a sin.”

Clem and Val go for the Intimidate. Valeria, the minor corruption of the Hunt glistening on her fangs, hisses, “Go find someone else to rob, this one is Ours.”

Clem says, “Excuse me, Mr. ...?” 

“Henri deCannes, you may have seen my face on a wanted poster?”

“Henri, if I may offer some advice. I once tried to fight something much bigger than me, much as I am much bigger than you. Do you know what happened?” She leans in. “It nearly CRUSHED me under its foot. So I would much rather make friends.” She ends with the sort of smile that implies much, much danger.

He’s intimidated. Henri doesn’t want to fight her. But he’s not giving up, and tries to pull a few heartstrings.

“This Curse especially targets those who reside in the woods. We are especially prone to corruption. My people, the Free Thieves of Valdia - I have been called here to help them. We do not wish to be monsters, or savages taken by the curse.”

“You’d just be a different kind of savage, wouldn’t you?" growls Valeria.

“You wound me. My men, they would go to the towns, but they are not welcome there. They would leave Valdia, but that takes money. And time is running short.”

“Running short until what?”

“Until we lose our minds, madame! I want to get as many of my men out as I can.”

He asks where we’re headed. Shoshana cheekily tells him “Nunya.”

Gral speaks commandingly: “There is always another way. Forge new papers and live an honest life. You are not leading your men to safety, you are leading your men to pain. I would get out of our way now.”

Henri persists. “I will take those medicines, and nothing more. We have sick and injured. We will leave you your food and other supplies. We seek the price for a Galwan ship, or to pay for the false documents you suggest we get.”

Gral does some internal math. We have about 100g worth of medicine, but we’ve seen posters in town with this man’s face on them. His bounty is set at 400g. 

The bard proposes a solution: “I see you care very much for your men. This medicine will be yours if you come with us and turn yourself in. Surely, if you are so concerned for their welfare, you would be nobly self sacrificial enough to trade yourself for their well-being.”

Henri nods. His bandits make protestations, but he shouts “Non! The orc is correct. If I must sacrifice myself for the Free Thieves to prosper, so be it.” 

“Please hand your medicine to Anya here,” he tells the merchants. Valeria insight checks and rolls a 3, seeing that he is clearly honest about taking the bargain. 

“Dmitri, Dmitri! Those shackles of yours, please! Dmitri, a bandit, hands Val some halfling-sized shackles. Clem’s kinda disappointed that the wanted poster specified “alive,” but ah, well. 

Anya, the red-headed girl who tricked us, takes the crate of medicine and sprints back to bandits. 

“Non! Do not wait for me! Be free, free thieves of Valdia!” Henri cries, dramatically. Valeria moves to cuff him, and the shackles go straight through his arms. 

“Oh, and I am quite sorry, but...Ceci n’est pas Henri deCannes.” He vanishes, and the bandits sprint into the woods with the medicine. Trickster clerics, babyyyyy! 

Valeria is FRUSTRATED at having been tricked so easily. Gral commiserates: “I see I am a bit too trusting in my aim for diplomacy.”

WELL. That’s a story that will seem funny to us later. At least we have halfling-sized shackles now, signed on one cuff by one Henri DeCannes. Gral adds, using Minor Illusion, “is a buttface.” On the other side is a holy symbol of Guile.

So having been hustled, we hustle along. Morozov rejoins us. “You lost the medicine?”

“Yeah, we’re idiots.”

Morozov has no regrets about his vanishing act. “I couldn’t run the risk of losing the evidence from my investigations. Couldn’t let it be damaged by a stray pistol ball.”

We arrive at next town and see Wanted posters of Henri, Anya, and several bandits. The camp mood for that night is decidedly subdued.

In the morning, Ser Quentin heads off in a different direction. “Alas, this is where I must turn aside. Best of luck to you.”

“And you as well,” we tell him politely.

“I don’t need luck, but I’m not so foolish as to refuse it. Good luck in Mornheim.”

As we head out, we commiserate about how much of a dick Henri is. Flynn concurs. “No offense, but I think I’ll leave this one out of the next story. If you do go after him, though, invite me. I’ll have a few pointed comments to make,” he gripes, playing with the hilt of his sword.

On the third day of travel, we make good time towards the spot we’ll have to ford a river. Fiona scouts ahead, feeling restless. Flynn is unconcerned. “If she finds anything, just listen for- well, you’ll hear her, trust me.”

She comes back a couple of minutes later, seeming kind of put out. She shakes her head and signs rapidly to Flynn. “She says the bridge is out,” he tells us glumly.

Sure enough, the bridge is quite smashed up. What happened here?

One of the players make a joke - what, was there a troll under the bridge? And we all suddenly feel the chaotic energy in the air of on-the-spot worldbuilding.

“Well, there WAS a troll!” We turn, and there’s a friendly local yokel passin’ by, a cheerful dad-looking farmer. 

“Aw, sorry, didn’t mean to scare ya there, folks. Yee-ep, we had a troll! Fella named Trolskiv. A good one too, kept the bridge safe for us. Reasonable tolls, took payment in potataters. Real nice fella. But something got in his head, a while back. I think the ol’ Curse finally got to him, poor guy. 

“Anyhow, couple weeks ago, the Hedgehog Knight came through with his crew and put an end to all that. Had to be done. Poor Trolskiv didn’t stand a chance. Just a real shame, all round. Even more a shame that he threw the Hedgehog Knight at the bridge and broke it! 

Now, if you folks come by in the mornin’, we got a ferry comes across the river, that’ll get you across no problem. That’s what we’re doin’ these days ‘till we get the bridge fixed up. If yer gonna stay overnight, I’m sure you’re lookin’ for a place to stay. There’s an old farmhouse up the road, the family up and left a while back, tryin’ ta avoid the Curse. I’m sure no one would mind if you holed up there for the night!”

Shoshana rolls Insight: Nat 20. The guy hasn’t lied to us so far; everything he’s said has been 100% true. Yet... there’s something wrong. He’s got an agenda, somehow. Something is unsavory about this man.

We take a look at the bridge.There is in fact a sign on the bridge saying Troll, and a series of potential payment options. 5 potatoes per cart or for 3 people to cross. Nearby, the locals have constructed a modest grave for Trolskiv.

“Yep, it’s a shame,” the farmer continues, rambling like a proper small-town old boy. “One ‘a my sons went down south, there’s a troll couple work the bridge down the river. They got a youngling, ‘bout the age he’d be lookin’ to move out on his own. Once we get the bridge fixed up, we’re aimin’ on inviting him up here! It’s a good solid bridge with a nice den underneath, already all set up. We always said, it’s not a proper bridge without a troll under it. Important part of the local economy.”

Before this conversation, bridge trolls didn’t exist yet, but now the DM informs us that Shoshana knows all about bridge trolls. There’s plenty of stories about them in Valdia. Sometimes they’re bad guys, but mainly they’re responsible for guarding against bandits, maintaining the bridges, and collecting tolls from travelers passing through to help fund the town.

Valeria is so confused, because she’s used to Regular Trolls. They don’t take potatoes, they take your head off! Gral knows that the more mountain-dwelling orc clans have had skirmishes with the huge, vicious mountain trolls. Clem knows there are horrible ice trolls on the northern steppes of Keva.  They’re right there with Valeria.

(We decide that there’s definitely a Beggar Knight who’s a troll. Lost their bridge in a battle, wanders the woods as a knight errant. We name her Ser Unkig. She’s great.)

Valeria decides to get some more info from this nice fella. “We’ve been out on the road quite a bit. Usually there’s generally some sort of danger, being outside of a big town. What’s the local lay of the land?”

“Well, it was Trolskiv until about a week ago. We mostly hid in our houses when he was out and about, but he kept the other nasties away. Ended up bein’ pretty safe, unless he tore down your door. He got real big and mean at the end there.”

He leads us up a dirt path through some farmland, and points us to a small house in fairly good repair.  

“There’s the intact one. The folks livin’ there headed on out. Didn’t feel too comfortable with Trolskiv rampagin’ about, y’ understand, so they kind of up and left! Left their field, loaded up a wagon, took what they could and got out of here.”

Shoshana, her nat-20 insight still rattling around in her brain, is Very Nervous, and is nudging people and whispering that something is WRONG, she doesn’t TRUST this guy. Everyone else cannot figure out why she’s so squirrelly about some ordinary-ass dude who has been nothing but kind and pleasant.  

Valeria,to placate her, Detects Evil and detects nothing. Nothing around the farmhouse, either. There’s a barn, and enough floor room for all our people. Just walls and a roof, and what sparse wooden furniture the previous residents couldn’t carry. 

Weirdly, we’ve seen no villagers but him. We ask him about that.

“Aw, well, it’s really just me an’ my boys! Most folks live on the other side of the river, and my boys went down the river to get that troll.”

There ARE a few other houses; we could canvas around and corroborate his story. Valeria wants to trust him. Shoshana insists we knock on a couple of doors. The couple of neighbors we ask are very confused, agree with everything the farmer said, and give us literally no reason to be suspicious of anything. Everyone agrees Shoshana is probably paranoid. Shoshana is like “True, but we live in the Cursewood?!”

Still, the argument goes, “We can sleep in the farmhouse, or we can sleep outside. Outside is probably...not safer.” We settle in to the farmhouse. Shoshana insists on at least setting up a watch. She and Gral sit out on the porch, probably in cliche’d and picturesque rocking chairs, and wait.

In the moonlit darkness, the wind gently ruffles the long stalks of wheat. Especially in that one area, right over there.

Wait.

Shoshana rolls an excellent perception with her Curse-enhanced Darkvision, and picks up on a figure moving quietly through the wheat field - stalking, even, the DM would admit. The thing - no, now it’s things, plural, three of them - slip out from between the stalks and advance on the house.

Gral hits them with Faerie Fire, and Shoshana immediately blows her Horn of Silent Alarm to alert Clem. The rest of the house is woken by Clem surging out of her bedroll, screaming “AUUGH, FUCK.” Roll initiative!

(The DM lets us know that these creatures are called Blights. We disagree; they are clearly Wheat and Wheat Byproducts.)

As soon as the Faerie Fire hits, the Wheats abandon stealth and  break into dead run, charging up to hit Gral and Shoshana. One of them pushes itself down, seeming to merge into the floor, and vines burst out of the porch to make it difficult terrain. Shoshana’s claw-like fingers and Gral’s sickle make a decent harvest, but the wheat strikes back, twining long strands around them and restraining them. This gluten is intolerant! Shoshana retaliates with Burning Hands, catching them all in the flames but also wounding Gral.

Gral is informed he may Do The Thing, so long as he has his lute on his person. He manages to play some freaking weird melodies, and his body gets woobly, and he phases out of the grapple like a mirage. His strange woobliness allows him to avoid AOOs, so he slashes at them and then gets some distance.

Clem runs out on the porch but can’t quite reach the Wheats due to the viney ground. Clem has slept in armor, but Valeria naively has not. She casts shield of faith on herself as she runs, grabbing a trident, and busts out glowing onto the porch.

One of the scarecrows in the field turns and drops off its post. It looks up, its eyes glowing a terrifying red as it sprints forward on all fours. That same viney wheat has formed arms for it, with rusted metal shears as claws. It attacks Valeria, but misses.

Fiona awakens and busts on out, furious and holding both her hammers, unarmored. She crits the scarecrow, though she isn’t raging, and does 25 fucking damage, because barbarians. Flynn, right behind her, snaps his fingers and a pistol appears in his hands. He fires, and misses.

The Wheat holding Shoshana slams her brutally into the ground and begins to drag her away, back toward the wheat field. Shoshana NOPES hard, rolls good and squeezes out of its grasp.

Gral pops Shoshana’s kidnapper with a crossbow bolt and Psychic Blades for a nice chunk of damage, blowing through the thing’s chest. It crumbles to the ground, a mere pile of grain.

Clem whiffs, the wheat wafting aside in the breeze. Valeria tries to pitchfork a scarecrow with her trident, but also misses. The scarecrow turns to Fiona, and its eyes glow a demonic red. Fiona fails her save – her face freezes in fear, her muscles lock up, and she is paralyzed. Flynn is not happy about it. “FEAR NOT!” he shouts, stabbing the one fighting Clem and wreathing it in the vibrating energy of Booming Blade. “If it moves, it’ll suffer. Bring it down, Clementine!”

“I will!” she shouts. “On my turn!”

The Wheat grabs her, restraining her with amber waves of pain.

Shoshana twins her Chromatic Orb again and misses one, but the one on Gral dies in a blaze.

Gral throws a Dissonant Whispers at the last Blight. It saves, but takes some damage. Clem busts out of its wheaty clutches, its glutinous grasp. Fiona, paralyzed, gets hit twice by the scarecrow but regains her ability to act, slamming her hammers into its soft, wheaty body. Flynn takes down the last Blight with his blade. “Are there any more of them?”

Fiona makes a sound. AH YES RIGHT.

Shoshana barely hits, but it IS vulnerable to fire so it takes damage-and-a-half. Gral pins his Psychic Blades to another crossbow bolt – it’s resisting non-magic damage but psychic is another story. It dies.

“Okay, NOW I think that’s the last of them,” Flynn concedes.

Shoshana feels vindicated, but also pissy. “I feel like the farmer guy could have MENTIONED that shit!”

Valeria, meanwhile, thinks this all sounds very familiar. In Ser Balderich’s story about the Summer Palace, the rose garden sprang to life and attacked. 

Shoshana is ready to get up in the the old farmer’s grill, but his house is across that field. We don’t wanna go in the field at night. 

Flynn takes watch. “If anything moves…” he says ominously, flourishing his pistol, “…you’ll wake up.”

We get what rest we can, though no one sleeps well after that. 

In the morning, Shoshana marches over and bangs on the farmer’s door. “Hey. HEY. OPEN UP, YOU DICK, I HAVE A BONE TO PICK.” Nobody answers. She gets nosy and peeks through the windows. Empty. It looks lived-in, not abandoned, but there’s nobody there. The door is unlocked, so she goes on in to check it out. 

She rolls a good investigate check. Searching the house, she finds a couple things. Yes, it’s lived in, but relatively recently someone packed and left in a hurry. 

Second, and more importantly, she finds the floorboards all dug up in one of the interior closets. Coming out of the dirt there, and spreading out into the walls of the closet, there is a thick, sprawling growth of mushrooms and fungus. 

Shoshana immediately puts her scarf over her face and gets right the hell out of there. NOPE NOPE NOPE. MAYBE WE SHOULD BURN IT. 

Gral, outside the house, agrees. In the early days of the curse, before he went on the expedition, he saw creatures the orcs called “fungal zombies.” Fungus took took over what was near them, animated the bodies or other organic matter, and made them attack. Gral also knows that fire has historically been an excellent way to deal with THAT bullshit.”

Shoshana clears it with everybody that the plan is to burn this man’s house down. Then we burn the man’s house down. Other villagers come by to see what on earth is happening but it’s too late. They’re pretty upset and confused. But they look at how well armed we are, and decide not to question it. 

Shoshana does protest that we didn’t burn it down with the guy INSIDE, he LEFT, stop looking at us like that. And he was an EVIL MUSHROOM MAN.

One of the frightened villagers volunteers some information. “Come to think of it, the fellas who lived there, Lieb and his sons, they showed up just a bit before Trolskiv started goin’ bad. You don’t think he was involved in that?”

We don’t know. So he’s not from around here? 

“No, he’s a recent transplant from Bad Hersfeld. When Trolskiv went bad, everybody stayed in their houses and didn’t talk much. Didn’t know him all that well, but he seemed like a nice enough fella.”

We remember that the farmer, Lieb, sent his sons down the river to recruit a young bridge troll. Gral, knowing the destruction a violent troll can wreak, does not want this troll kid to be mushroomized. The Fairgolds are willing to check that out, if we finish escorting the carts to Mornheim. They’ll meet up with us there in a couple of days. 

“Fire is very effective,” Gral advises them. 

“Usually is,” says Flynn.

As they head off down the river, we can still hear them chatting. “Fiona, have you considered my idea of lighting your hammers on fire?” The hand sign she returns is one we all recognize. “Maybe I could figure out an ice thing with my blade. We could find a cool theme! You could dye your hair red-” Oh, she’s punched him. Another day in the life of the Knights Fairgold.

We take the ferry over the river without incident. It takes most of the rest of the day to reach Mornheim.

As we get close, the lush greenery of the forest along the road becomes thinner and more wiry, the trees less full of life. Animals look starved and diseased. The sound of carrion birds replaces twitter of songbirds. Everything has gone real fuckin’ Tim Burton. 

We see a sign that says Mornheim. “C’mon, the town isn’t far,” says Feivel. “We can still make it by nightfall.” We trudge ahead along the winding path. Eventually we come across rows of trees, still bearing a few apples but sickly and thin. The hills have clusters of graves on them. 

We crest a hill and see the town, a small cluster of buildings surrounded by a tall wall. In distance, we can make out several larger structures: a grand house on a high hill, and what looks like a cathedral. Heading downhill, there’s a sudden commotion inside a mausoleum to the left. 

Once it had been pleasantly situated in copse of trees; now they are cracked and broken, and we can hear shouts of battle. The door to the mausoleum is roughly wrenched open as we approach. A rotting zombie stumbles back outwards, and falls. A woman in a blue coat and tall leather hat, wielding a sharpened shovel, plants her shovel in its neck and stomps, decapitating it. “THE EXIT’S CLEAR, LET’S GO!”

There’s an answering whoosh of flame from somewhere inside the tomb. “THANKS!” the woman calls. Then she notices us: “Oh hey, Feivel. Just in time. Let’s get into town, I got your payment right here!”

A goblin in a brightly embroidered bolero jacket steps out of the mausoleum, wiping dust and soot off her slightly smoking hands. “You’re not the usual guards,” she comments.

“Nope!” Valeria agrees. “Oh, would you be lady Aubrey? Ser Quentin sent us, he said to give you this.” She hands the human woman Ser Quentin’s letter.

The woman slits it open with a thin knife. She is, in every aspect, the Graverobber from Darkest Dungeon. She carries a sturdy pick, a sharpened shovel, and a whole bunch of daggers. She reads Ser Quentin’s letter as we walk through the graveyard, casually, as if she hasn’t just run out of a tomb of exploding zombies.

“So!” she says to us. “Letter says you’re idiots. Well, it says you’re here to investigate and get to the bottom of stuff, so���idiots.”

“Honestly, knowing Ser Quentin, we’re just surprised and gratified he didn’t say it explicitly,” Shoshana quips. 

“Aw, Q’s a big softie once you get to know him,” Aubrey tells us, smiling. We’ve reached the town walls, and she shouts up to a couple of guards. “Open up!” The gate grinds open slowly, and Feivel hurriedly rushes his carts inside.

Now that we’re in safe territory, Lady Aubrey turns to inspect us properly. “Can I get your names?”

The DM confirms that Clem is no longer using her uniform, with its Red Hand insignia, as armor, so Aubrey doesn’t recognize it. “Sergeant Clementine Haxan,” she introduces herself.

“Sergeant, eh? Part of the Czar’s forces?”

“Indeed. I was stationed with the Red Hand.”

Aubrey squints at her. “I don’t know anything about the Red Hand, but last group Q brought… these folks wouldn’t wear red gloves, would they?”

“They sure do?”

Aubrey’s tone grows more hostile as she eyes Clem suspiciously. “You here to bring more trouble to my town, then? We’ve had enough of elven soldiers here.”

“Just the opposite. We’re here to help.”

“Yeah, that’s what the first ones said. The ones still here have been no end of trouble to me and mine.”

Clem is shocked. We’d thought all of the Red Hand had left Mornheim! “What do you mean, the ones still here?!”

Aubrey points outside the wall, where the undead roam. “Livin’ out there. The undead sure seem to listen to them. We’ve had to cut our expeditions short, which means I can’t pay for Mercedes and the other mercs to protect the town, or for Feivel to get supplies.

“You’re gonna go out there, fine. But if you die, do me the favor and have the courtesy to stay that way. Anyway, Aubrey von Mornheim, pleasure to make your acquaintance. Welcome to town! Hope you survive it.”

[cursewoodrecap]

Session 7: Wait, Now We Have to Get Home Somehow

We have gone to fantastical places and seen improbable things! But we kind of want to play the setting we’ve planned for like a year, so I guess we gotta find our way back.

We’re not all assembled at the start of session, so before Officially Jumping Into A Portal, we take a few moments to mess around in the abandoned campground in the Drowned City.

Shoshana investigates one of the rusting metal vehicles that sit abandoned in the giant grey structure. She finds a cache of strange documents, written in a mysterious unknown language, in the glove compartment. She knows it’s the glove compartment because she also finds gloves. 

We read through the notes we took from the Astronomer’s study. A lot of it is technical and out of our grasp, but apparently the pattern etched into the walls functions to “weaken the barrier between realms” and “creates an artificial soft spot.” Luckily, we did not roll well enough to gain a Burning Curiosity To Learn More.

We write out a nice description of the Drowned City in our Pokedex notebook. Like in the paintings, the city is wide mix of buildings – some familiar, some alien. Districts seem to be differentiated by architectural style. However, scattered across the city in all districts, there’s this one style of weird dark buildings. They’re taller than most things and almost hurt our eyes to look at, made of glittering black stone and extending above the city. A bit in disrepair, and twisted in ways that physics would say are structurally unsound. Some have fallen over. 

I give it two stars on TripAdvisor for interesting architecture and readily available beachfront proximity, but the local wildlife is unfriendly and there isn’t much of a nightlife. 

Gral gets a “hey buddy, you okay?” after everything we found out about Bullbreaker and his comrades. The rundown: Gral is touched by Shoshana’s note, excited that Bullbreaker is alive, sad because he has his acquaintances’ remains, even though he’s done a lot of funeral services in his time. His determination is Bolstered! He’s going to protect the town of Holzog from the fate that befell his squad!

Oh hey, everybody’s here. Let’s pick up where we left off: hopping through an interdimensional portal.

We step out onto the path of stairs that we left, but it looks different than last time? First of all, the section of path we came here on is straight up gone. Everything seems to have rearranged itself entirely, because consistent geography is definitely not a thing here.

We can see what looks like an enormous telescope protruding out of a piece of building - the Astronomer’s tower! Between it and us is, instead of a path, a field of rocks floating gently in the void, like a tiny local asteroid belt. (Also a weird snail thing, but it’s minding its own business.) To get to the tower... we could jump between the rocks, maybe?

A voice shouts out in Valdian: “MURDERERS!”

Crouching on this weirdly spherical stone in the center of the asteroid field, there is a hulking figure, wearing what was once decent clothes. He has greyish, pale skin and no eyes, just sunken flesh pits where they once had been. He is swollen and grossly, misshapenly muscular, and five chisel-tipped tentacles stretch out of his back, like a meaty Doc Ock. More writhing tentacles come out of his sleeve instead of a hand; just a spaghetti of weird meat-limbs. (The DM informs us that we were enjoying the Key too much, so he had to drop in the word “meat-limbs.” Suffer.)

Shoshana is immediately offended because her avatar on the Roll20 map is Doc Ock from Into the Spider-Verse, and THERE CAN ONLY BE ONE.

Anyway he’s screaming at us about murder, so we should probably pay attention. “You killed it! It was the first of its kind! Just a child! Do you have any idea what it took to bring it into the world? It nearly found its way out! And you killed it!”

Someone picks up on his chisels for hands extremities and figures out that this must be the Sculptor, Karl Schossman. (Though now he’s more of a Schoss...thing.) And we definitely did kill his mimic statue.

“It attacked us. We were forced to act in self-defense,” Gral tells him diplomatically.

“It was a child! Frightened and hungry!”

“...to be fair, I was also frightened and hungry,” notes Clem.

“You don’t even know what you destroyed! The greatest work of sculpture ever created! My masterpiece!”

He’s on a roll now, so he has to monologue. “What makes the ultimate sculpture? Every sculpture that could ever exist, all in one. That is what I created! That is what the Key showed me how to make!” His tendrils start chipping at the stone under his feet, agitated. “And you just KILLED it!”

We’re surprised he knows about its death at all. He can get back to the House from here?

“Of course you can get back, when the gates are open. That’s how GATES work. Clearly you’re not only a philistine, but a fool. And a MURDERER!”

Turns out he can’t stay in the real world, once the gate closes – he’s only able to visit the house when it’s in-between both realms. “That’s why creating it took so long! That’s why what you have DONE-“

Gral, aside: “He’s more upset that we killed HIS thing than that we killed a living being. How selfish.”

Clem tries for an optimistic tone. “Hey, maybe now it’s just a new kind of art?”

“NO! You made it be one thing. It was every thing!”

Clem admits that maybe she just doesn’t get art.

“Well, now the ART will get YOU! Study in Stone #23, AVENGE!”

A carved piece of rock by his side groans, moves, and gets to its feet. A gargoyle!

“Shoshana got run over by a gargoyle, comin’ home from our house Christmas Eve...”

Valeria has the Ring of Jumping, so she’s MOON BOUNCIN’ all around the asteroids to get to the one the Sculptor’s on. We all immediately have to look up how jump mechanics work, and whether they allow for slam-dunk hang time physics. She hops to an asteroid near the gargoyle and SMITES. It would resist the physical damage, but as she smites, her rose vines tear into the gargoyle’s cracks and crevices, like ivy on an old building in fast-forward.

The DM is a little disappointed, because the gargoyle WAS gonna fly around and push people off the edge of the path out into the void, but Valeria has Sentinel, so it ain’t goin’ NOWHERE.

As Gral throws Faerie Fire at the sculptor, his weird stone-grey skin bursts into vibrant color. As the faerie dust goes toward the gargoyle, it is all sucked into the sculptor, negating its effect. He has the statblock of a flail snail! Antimagic shell! He weirdly tentacle-walks across the gaps without much trouble, but he’s not very fast. He streeeetches his tentacles to flail at Gral, but whiffs. Shoshana shoots the gargoyle with thunder, giving it some serious chips and cracks. Clem leaps asteroids and grabs the adamantine wrench we found, brandishing a weapon that might be hard enough to crack stone.

And then the DM grins, and the asteroids on our Roll20 map hit their initiative and start to move and shift through the void. Better hold on!

Valeria breathes ice at them, and Gral pops off a crossbow shot. The bolt spins off into the void and then falls back at Gral’s feet, like a boomerang. It’s kind of warped now though? Weird. Better pocket it.

“BEHOLD!” the Sculptor shouts. “YOU CAN SEE THE BRILLIANCE OF MY VISION!” His skin emits a dazzling blend of colors. Everyone within 30 ft makes a WIS save. Shoshana, hanging out in I’m A Spellcaster range, doesn’t have to. Clem, Valeria, and Gral. They are stunned by the brilliance of his vision for 1 round. Clem gasps. “I...I understand art now!”

Clem may now add “gets art” to her character sheet.

The gargoyle is crumbling away to dust as we hack and slash and shoot at it, but the Sculptor is a greater threat. His lashing chisel-tipped tentacles tear into the stunned Valeria, reducing her to 0hp. Luckily, since this part of the Curse does not work off desire for power or fear of death, she does not take Taint from it. Gral Healing Words her up.

The gargoyle has taken advantage of the stun to finally escape Valeria and hassle the spellcaster, but Shoshana handles her face fulla goyle decently, and her enhanced claws break apart the disintegrating stone for good. The Sculptor is not pleased. “Noooo! Number 23! Do none of you appreciate what I – I have suffered, and made others suffer – and I am a moral person, so making them suffer made ME suffer – for this art! And you just-! How dare you.”

Clem and Valeria fuckin stab him.

Gral tells him his art is tacky, which he is 1d4 of offended by. The Sculptor and the tanks trade heavy blows as Shoshana, hiding back on the path, misses all of her shots and feels bad about it. Another crossbow bolt boomerangs back to Gral. This one has an eye now!

He tells us our aesthetic is weak. Gral notes this is rude, but kind of accurate.

Finally, we do enough damage to start ripping off tentacles. Valeria catches one in her trident and twirls it like spaghetti, popping it right off.

Clem scores the final blow. She looks him in the eye and growls, “I understand your art. And I find it wanting.”

Then she cleaves him in half and boots him off the asteroid. His two halves float out into space, shouting “EVERYONE’S A CRITIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIC”

Fight over. Everyone finishes hopping asteroids onto the next solid section of path. Except for our poor spindly sorceress, who rolled a 2 and has a Strength score of Bad. Valeria has to moon-bounce back over and bridal-carry her across, with her Ring of Boing and her Arms of Beef. Shoshana, pressed up close against the chest of a muscular, buff dragon-woman, is feelin’ some kind of way. 😳

We pass by a big shiny disc platform covered in strange symbols. Valeria feels, in her mind, that the Answers Are There if you just…let them in… 

She makes her save and is like Oh Yeah, That’s The Key, Better Not Do That. But she takes a loooong look at it before she turns away, reluctantly. We mosey on up the stairs. 

A weird thing happens as we get closer to the tower: the spiral of the stairs gets tighter, the stairs become wood, and the void fades away as the walls of the Astronomer’s house reassert themselves. The pattern on the walls is denser here than anywhere else. Coming through the doorway, we see a figure, twisted. He was clearly once an elf, but he has been twisted and reshaped like putty. One of his eyes is withered almost to nothing, while the other is massive and bulbous, deforming his entire head. Despite his corrupted appearance, he sits calmly in a well-appointed study, wearing fine robes. A tentacle-like finger is holding a cup of tea, which he sips delicately.

“Ah,” he greets us politely, looking entirely unsurprised to see us. “Would you like some tea? It’s so rare that I get guests.”

Valeria introduces herself on reflex. “Kyr Valeria Argent, at your service, it’s nice to meet you, Mr....?”

“I’m Artyoum Vlemisk, though these days I prefer simply The Astronomer. Today ‘Artyoum’ seems so far away. A simple man, afraid to leave his house.”

Gral looks around. “Seems like you took the house with you.”

“Yes, so I did. What a simple solution, in the end. All those years, staring at the stars, not knowing what I was looking for...”

He puts his massive eye to the eyepiece of the telescope, where it fits perfectly,  and gazes out into the strange cosmos. “From here I can see everything. I can show you things, too! Please, come sit. I believe Adelaide made these.” He gestures to a perfectly normal-looking tray of cookies. “She comes by sometimes to visit. She’s such a worrywart, making sure I eat. I don’t even need to eat anymore.”

Gral, understandably wary of lookin’ at things here in mental distortion land, asks, “Can you just tell us what you know, instead of showing us?”

“Oh, certainly! Although there are things I would need to show you, for you to truly understand.”

That’s slightly ominous. But Gral’s got a mission. “Mists come out of the lake, and have been getting dangerously close to Holzog. They are harmful to its residents. What prompts their spread?”

The Astronomer puts on a mildly contrite face. “I’m sorry to hear that the people of Holzog are suffering. Had our plan succeeded, they would be here with us! The whole valley would have come when we moved the house. It’s a terrible shame the Destroyer stopped us.”

Shoshana jumps on that, remembering the Madman’s strange painting of a lizard-owl-creature. “Who was the Destroyer? What happened?”

“He must have had some idea of what we were doing. I was lookout duty at end, but I did not see him. Only later, the Key showed me what had happened. He took the form of an owl. He must have felt our working somehow, but that’s not a question that particularly interests me. He was very clever about his sabotage! Fire or an assault, we could have easily repelled. The Lurker’s hounds would have aided us. We could have rebuilt, and tried again. But he approached by stealth. The wings of an owl to cross the lake, then a lizard to scurry into the caves underneath my house. Then used magics of his kind-”

“His kind?”

“The druids of the wood, of course. Who else turns into owls and lizards, and reshapes the earth? Only such a backwards, backwoods bunch of superstitious yokels would oppose our work with such fervency. We were trying to do something new! All they care about is tradition.”

He continues ranting. “The druid opened a sinkhole, and dropped us in at the moment our work would have reached completion. Poor Ana and Josephine. My part is done, and I can watch a thousand worlds through my telescope. Anything I wish, I can see. Their part is not complete. They play their music on and on, then gather their strength and play again. When they play, the gaps thin, the mists pour through and the hounds wander the valley. Eventually they will not merely push, but break. Then our contract will be complete.”

“What contract? With whom?”

“Our contract with the Key! We create the hole for it, and it shows us what we need. Then we are free to travel the realms as we wish.”

“What happens when they break through? Will Holzog’s valley come here?”

“Maybe not the whole valley. Our initial calculations were done before the pattern was disrupted. But yes, that was our goal. Once our collaboration is complete, everyone from the Baroness to the poor fishmonger’s son will be Free. And the Key will certainly have tasks for them in exchange for their freedom, the Truest freedom. You see, the Key is not like the other prisoners, it does not work by fear, or-”

“Hold on, hold on. Other prisoners?”

“You are very familiar with one of them,” he replies, leveling a meaningful look at Shoshana’s sharp claws and predator’s eyes.

Gral laser-focuses in. The Key is a prisoner. “That which cannot be killed cannot be bound....” he murmurs. If the Key can be imprisoned, it can be destroyed.

The rest of the party is looking at each other, wondering why the image of prisoners is so familiar. Wait - the tapestry! 

“The tapestry?” The Astronomer takes a glance through his telescope. “Ah, you were speaking literally.” His arm reaches out, further than physically possible, to snag a cookie off the tray. “Yes, a crude illustration of the prisoners, reaching out to those who would free them. The others appeal to base fears – death, pain, abandonment. The Key reaches out to those who seek truth and beauty. Inspiration! Enlightenment! Far more worthy goals.”

We are stunned. This is the biggest insight into how the Curse works that we’ve ever heard of, and this guy is handing out revelations over tea and cookies. 

“Who imprisoned them?”

“That is a very deep question. Would you like to know? That is one of the things I would like to show you. If you would gaze through, all answers are yours to see.” He gestures generously toward his telescope.

We can’t say we’re not tempted, but Shoshana speaks up. “Ooookay, we’re gonna TABLE THAT for now. What happens if they get free?! Like, especially the wolf one.”

“Oh! The Hunt! Yes, it struggles for pure power, to seize control of the prison from the wardens, to break itself out.”

Not an answer to our question, but interesting. “Who are the wardens? Are they druids?”

"Ah, that’s another answer you must be shown. They’re not quite druids, that term would be deeply inaccurate, and yet it’s not entirely wrong in its own intriguing way...”

“Are they...humanoid??”

“No, but yes.”

We try to insight check him. We don’t roll good, and we get the insight of “Holy shit, that guy’s eyeball is HUGE.” Kinda hard to read facial expressions, tbh.

He sits back in his chair. “My role for the time being is to give answers to those who have the courage to seek them out.”

Okay, okay, enough of this big-picture stuff, Valeria wants to get back to our basic needs. “The villagers are very concerned about the mist. I don’t think this whole...thing is something they want.”

“Perhaps they will not want it. I cannot say,” the Astronomer says wistfully. “But as it is now, don’t they deserve the freedom to choose? Their humdrum life, or this sublime beauty?”

“You’re not offering them freedom, you’re offering fear!” she fires back.

“And you’re not offering much of a choice,” Gral adds in.

“They will learn eventually. And then, they may not thank me, but. Ah, well.” It’s blatantly obvious that he’s completely unconcerned about the townsfolk, at best. 

Sensing a lull in the conversation, Shoshana pipes up hesitantly. “Uh...you can see a lot of things, right? Um, there’s a person-

“Oh! I thought you might ask about her,” he interjects brightly. “I can show you where she is, where she will be in a week’s time, what she’s up to. Come take a look!”

Shoshana takes a wary look at the enormous telescope, and decides to limit herself to a simple question: “…is she alive?”

“Oh yes, she lives.”

Shoshana looks around awkwardly, her eyes landing on Gral. “Oh! There’s another guy, um, an orc? He’s called Bullbreaker. Is he alive?”

“For now. These are two people who lead very dangerous lives. If only someone could find them, and help them,” he says, unsubtly, turning the eyepiece of the telescope towards us.

Valeria doggedly tries to get us back on track about the village in danger. “So how would we stop the mists? Would we have to kill the musicians? Would that work? I know they’re your friends, but we have innocent people to save.”

“Yes, if you stop Ana and Josephine from playing, the mists will no longer rise. I will admit, I’d be sad to see them go. But I am content. I have earned my part, and I can see all the worlds I wish from here.”

We’re surprised he would not oppose us, but we’re not gonna push in case he changes his mind. Better question: how do we get back to the house and the musicians?

"That’s not a hard route. Go that way,” he says, pointing out the window to a branch of the winding path, “go past the beacon, take some of the doors, and you’ll find your way to the conservatory, on this side.

The beacon, it turns out, is the light in the middle of the shield-like disc, the one that had nearly entranced Valeria.

“What is beacon for?” she has to ask. “I almost figured it out, but...”

“What is a beacon ever for? It guides the way.”

“To where?”

“Home. That’s an interesting question.”

“For whom?” Gral adds.

“That is an even BETTER question, my good orc.”

“Was it for you and your collaborators?”

“No, something else.”

“For the Key?”

Like he has for all the really juicy questions, he gestures to his telescope.”

We realize we could....come back? Mr. Astronomer, would you mind if we visited you again, when we have more we want to know?

The Astronomer nods. “I never left my house. I will be here, until you know what you are seeking.”

He offers us a few cookies for the road. There’s eldritch runes in the frosting. We take a few, figuring the Sturmhearst guys will get a kick out of them. “Do you want a baggie, or a little tin?” This enormous weird hulking worm-man digs around for a tin, finds one, dumps sewing supplies out of it, and pops the cookies in. “Take a thermos with tea, in case you get tired later. You wouldn’t really want to sleep here.”

As we awkwardly file out of the Astronomer’s tower, Gral murmurs to Shoshana, “There are many things I wish to know too, but the cost from that one is too great.”

Shoshana nods. “…as long as I know she’s alive, that’s fine. I can find her myself.”

Valeria, meanwhile, is frustrated. “I’m so curious as to the nature of the curse! But I don’t yet have the right questions to ask.” Valeria’s player is basically vibrating out of her seat, her immense desire to Find Out Answers stifled only by her commitment to staying in character.

Clem focuses on the practical parts. “So, there’s some primal force in woods combating the Curse? He says there are four different prisoners. What’s imprisoning them?”

 The answer, of course, is just a few steps behind us. But Shoshana shakes her head decisively, trying to banish the thought. “You saw what a couple days in a spooky cave did to me. If I look into that thing, I’ll be a nutty painter.”

“Yes. Once you know how to fix it, you might not want to fix it,” Gral reminds the group.

“It’s better to acquire the knowledge naturally,” Clem agrees. “Anyway, what’s up with these druids? I’ve heard stories, but I don’t know much about them.

Valeria rolls her Knowledge: Religion. Here’s what the DM gives us: 

The Druids are – well, the closest equivalent is clergy, but it’s not an organization – of the local Valdian religion, the Way of the Woods. It’s an old system of belief that predates the Aquilian conquest and the shift to worshiping the Aquilian pantheon. Their power set is transforming into/summoning/commanding animals and nature. (You’re all D&D players, you know how druids work.) They’re very secretive. Although the religion has faded, they never really went away? But they’re very distrustful of outsiders, so much so that even people who live in rural towns rarely, if ever, meet the druids. They’re about the deepest woodsfolk as you can go, but not in a cursed way. They will interact with society but rarely, and they go incognito when they do. Their extreme xenophobia extends to anyone who is not a confirmed follower of the Way of the Woods, so it’s really hard to make or maintain contact.

Shoshana alludes to a woman from her village who left to become druid. Supposedly, she just walked off into woods one day, never to be seen again. From a local’s perspective, druids are generally considered benevolent. If you see a weirdly intelligent animal in woods, one should help it or accept its help, because it’s a druid. Most of the Way of the Woods that Shoshana is familiar with has faded into folktales, superstition, and secular tradition rather than a full religion. Often tales of druids get mixed up with Way of the Woods tales of Baba and Gramps, the benevolent forest spirits. Shoshana knows a bit, but not much. It’s hard to tell what’s fairytale and what’s not.

Gral considers the new information. “They could be a powerful ally. After all, the enemy of our enemy is our friend.”

Valeria’s less optimistic. “Yeah, they’re our friend. But can we convince them that we’re their friend?” Valeria is especially doubtful about her chances - a local peasant could be passed off as a Way of the Woods follower, but a paladin of Rack is going to put them off from the start.

Oh hey, we’ve come upon a door! Like the ones in the house! Sadly, it probably has big scary hounds behind it. Valeria Lay On Handses herself, and then pat pats Shoshana for a couple hit points for good measure.

Gral listens at the door, and he can faintly hear the music of the two women drifting from far away. They are still jammin’, as they are wont to do!

Clem bravely barges on in and finds an ordinary-looking room, which has several more doors leading away. We listen, and follow the music. Clem opens door 2 and find...another tiny room of doors. Valeria decides we go left next. Something is weird about the music? But it’s louder. Gral is told to roll Perception and does good, and hears howling pipes. The Lurker has caught our scent.

“It’s Here.”

The scrambling behind us, of the hounds.

“They’re here.”

Roll initiative, everybody!

Shosha mage armors up and zags through a door at random. Bad choice, there’s nothing but a swirling vortex through there! And something’s reaching out to grab ya! She Dex saves poorly and is grappled by a woogle of tentacles. Clem grabs her by the scruff, yanks her out of the woogle and tries a different door. Clem pops through the door into…the first room we were in. She retraces our steps through the open door and rejoins us. Guys, this house is WEIRD.

Valeria tries door 3. Success, another room! A flesh hound pops through the portal door and latches onto Clem, critting. She lives tho. Gral finds a new door to a real room. Shoshana books it through, dashing straight past him into a new door to an even further room where the music is loud! Clem drops a FUCKIN GRENADE on the flesh-hound as she runs, and slams the door shut behind her. It goes BOOM. There’s a weird sound like a crackling, too. Valeria catches up with Shoshana at the front of the line. There’s mist coming under a gate in this new room. Seems we’ve found where we’re going.

Gral minor illusions a fake Gral and closes the door behind him, catching up to the party and hoping the flesh-hounds will be fooled. The doggo figures out it’s an illusion, though, and charges through a different portal door directly to Clem. Seems like they know the layout here.

The DM is mildly disappointed, because we guessed too good on his puzzle to do a proper Scooby Dooby Doors comedy routine. Shoshana pops an orb of fire back through her door to help Clem and then reluctantly scoots through the misty door into the conservatory. This is the space we saw through the mirror. I’M ALONE WITH LADIES YOU GUYS. HELP. They haven’t noticed her yet, though.

Clem disengages with the hound and charges through to meet up with Shosha. We can see the musicians! They have three vaguely humanoid servants dancing to the impossible music, writhing in bizarre ways. This is the weirdest club any of us have ever been in. 

(It is decided that in the cyberpunk AU, the Astronomer’s house is just a really sick dance club. It’s where you go to See The Stars.)

(A bad Stefon impression is performed. This club has EVERYTHING: eyeball men, crab disasters, the tragic fate of your long-lost comrades...)

We all prep attacks for when the hound comes through the door.

The dimensional shiftiness that makes it hard to hit isn’t happening right now? We don’t roll good enough to know why. No, the DM can’t resist telling us. Something in that bomb did it. There’s sparks coming off the hound, and it’s coated in some kind of dust from the Broad Spectrum grenade. One of the substances in it must interfere with their powers and presence.

Clem smacks it and Shoshana crits a Primal Savagery. It crits Shoshana back, and rolls nearly max. She’s down. Healing Word from Gral, as she forgets about her Strength of the Grave ability again. Clem and Valeria start smacking it with weapons, and Gral Psychic Blades it super dead.

Using her medic abilities, Clem heals Shosha to full, because witches get stitches.

My internet failed at this point, so I don’t have a great Roll20 visual for this next fight, but phone data does miracles and I was able to get back on the call. 

The situation: there are 3 dancers and 2 musicians. All have the weird spaghetti-stretched look we’ve come to associate with corrupted followers of the Key. Each dancer has a colorful aura for a 20 ft radius. They draw your eye as they spin and sparkle, and within that radius we have disadvantage to attack anything that is not a dancer. (They are statted as starspawn grues, for anyone keeping track.) Clusters of glittering crystals dot the room, resonating in time with the music.

A dancer dances up to us and warps reality at Valeria. Walk into the club like whattup, make a Will Save. But it nat 1s at whatever it was doing. 

Shoshana manages to get out of the dancer’s radius, and aims at the two musicians with her signature Twinned Spell Chromatic Orb. She fires off a deafening round of thunder damage, hoping to disrupt the music! Two of the dancers stumble and lose the beat for a moment. The misty gate back to the real world, fluctuating in and out of reality in the back of the room, looks more like an intact wall now – it stutters as the music is disrupted.

By the way: Are they human? No, they are dancer.

Clem cuts down a dancer and advances on the next one. The flutist, Ana, strikes three high notes that form in the air as shimmering shapes and blast toward us. Two shots miss, one hits Clem.

Gral casts Silence.

The song stops.

The door fades away.

Josephine, the violinist, steps out of the silence circle and strikes her violin strings with her bow, sending a wave of sonic energy towards Gral, Clem and Shoshana. We all take a bunch of damage and Gral loses concentration on Silence.

The dancers, able to restart the beat since the violinist got the music going again, swing at Valeria and Shoshana. Their strikes distort Shoshana’s sense of space, giving her disadvantage on attack rolls. Luckily, this next spell ain’t one of those.

Shoshana casts Shatter with a deafening BOOM. The dancer and musician save and take less damage, but a couple of those crystals also get hit. They shatter, like, well, crystal. They are resonating crystals, and they vibrate with a high pitched noise for a moment before they burst apart with a glassy CRASSSHHH. Shoshana drops to 0, but as she falls, her eyes go black and she lunges to her feet with a primal snarl, using Strength of the Grave to spookily jump up to 1hp again.

(The DM was absolutely gonna have the Musicians do cool things with those crystals, like shooting spells through them! But no, we made them explode. There’s glass all OVER the floor. Everybody’s gotta wear shoes until we sweep up. Somewhere, Walter White looms.)

Josephine the violinist deflects Clem’s swing with her violin bow – not so much blocking as making the blade warp through space around it. She returns to playing.

Ana the flautist fires 3 more high pitched notes from her flute. Clem’s down. Gral Healing Words her and swings his sickle in at the dancer with a dashing slash that cuts her down. It is extremely anime. He is suddenly in silhouette with the dancer behind, and a blood splatter in silhouette. 

The violinist uses a burst of sound to propel herself backwards, the resulting soundwave hitting Clem and Valeria. Ana and Josephine reunite and start playing their music more furiously than ever.

Good, they’re grouped together for AoEs. Shoshana casts Shatter again on poor Lindsey Stirling and her friend. They are both bloodied, and a couple more crystals near them vibrate – one resonates but does not shatter; the other explodes, sending needle-like shards into the musicians. We feel the crystal shards at our feet hum and thrum with the sound.

With a mighty slash, Clem shoves Josephine into the remaining crystal, though she tries to deflect with her bow. Her violin slips from her hands as she falls unconsicous. Ana screams, but Clem is still swinging with her Action Surge. As the flautist turns with rage, her eyes burning, the universe quivering as she is about to unleash some horrible song-storm – Clem, bloody and nearly broken, slams back into her and throws her into the other crystal, silencing the music and the scream. 

There is a moment, just a moment, when the music still reverberates in the crystals and the portal remains open – but we know Gral can open the way, and there might be stuff to loot, and we don’t run through.

Valeria gathers crystal bits as the song fades. Gral scotch tapes a flesh hound dangly bit into the Pokedex. Gral also takes the instruments and the remaining sheet music of Opening of the Ways and The Prisoner’s Lament. The violin itself starts to warp into nothingness once Josephine dies, but the strings are shimmering and incandescent and vibrating at strange frequencies. The flute also appears warped but intact. Gral is like, “I could restring my lute with these wacky strings, but this is not an ideal place to do instrument repairs.” He pockets them for later.

Once we’re done looting investigating, we all looook to Gral, very sheepishly. Opening the ways feels weird, but it must be done. He must make a Performance check, though he can expend a spell slot to gain +d6 per spell level. He’s a bard, though, so he rolls a frickin’ 32. We pour through the portal and see the mists are fading rapidly.

As the whole place collapses, we see the corpses of the musicians on the ground. There is a growling sound as a hound comes around the bend, but the mists rapidly fade and its flickering intensifies until it flickers away.

The soft spots are probably not spreading towards the town anymore! Gral takes 6 taint, though, for playing the Spooky Song and directly tapping into the Key’s power.

We find ourselves standing in the ruins of the astronomer’s house. Looking out the windows, it’s night time now. We’re not really sure how long we’ve been gone. (Fifty yeeeaaars! A hovercar flies by! No.)

Valeria gives Shosha four hit points because she is tiiiired, and a few to Clem too.

Now that we’ve left the house and are getting ready to climb back up our rope, those with Darkvision make a perception check. Something small is flying towards us awkwardly, with big ungainly flaps. It’s roughly the size of a wombat. Is it Daikon? No. We put the rune beetle up (We have named it Luxon, a corruption of Alexa). Some weird misshapen bluish creature in a plague doctor mask flaps toward us. It’s Gray the Homunculus! 

It flaps up to Gral and croaks, “ALIIIIIVE.” It pulls something out of a pouch with a weird little raccoon hand, taking weirdly precise notes in a small notebook. “RETUUUURNING,” it caws, and leaves.

We’re a little nervous at being out at night, when cursed things come out, but apparently the valley of Holzog is pretty safe when it’s not misty death. We make our way back to the boat, where Gray is waiting for us, and back across the lake. Looks like the people are all holed up in fortresses right now, like they do when there’s mist. 

Gray guides us back to the church. The two hulking owl-masked guards are waiting, and lead us to the door of the Sturmhearst University Holzog Annex. The door opens and Prof Quercus is there. “Ahh! Good news, everyone! They’ve returned!” (Thanks, Farnsworth.)

“Please, come inside, come inside! We’ve never seen the mists rise this soon after a previous incursion, or retreat so rapidly. Look at these charts!” They have, indeed, been drawing charts tracking when the mist comes.

“There’s a good chance the mists won’t be coming back for a while,” we tell him. (Insight check: he is disappointed.) “But have we got some stuff to tell you!”

“Oh?” His face would perk up, except he’s wearing a bird mask.

We give him the Pokedex notebook. We have written some of the things we’ve seen, but omitted a LOT.

What we give him, in the notebook:

-The concept of portals to other worlds

-A rubbing of the pattern

-Drawings of the symbols on statue mimic

-A flesh hound tentacle

-The eldritch cookies + thermos of tea

-A description of the guy with too many eyes

-A pamphlet from the glove box

-Basic descriptions of the void

-The twisted crossbow bolt

-The Funko pop from space

-Some of the crystal shards

We do NOT give them any knowledge of the sheet music, the eldritch cookbook, or ANY information on how to open the portals.

Professor Quercus identifies the potions we picked up from the house. They are a Potion of Kill You Quite Quickly (fast-acting poison), a Potion of Heroism, and a mystery potion he doesn’t know what it’ll do. It’s too chaotic. (The DM informs us it makes us roll on the Wild Magic Surge table.)

Time to tally our taint! Clem, Valeria, and Shoshana all save. Gral is clandestinely offered a Deal by the DM, the effects of which are as yet unknown.

We stay at Sturmhearst overnight because it’s, like, Dark out in the Cursewood. None of the folks in bird masks sleep. (*shrugs* Grad students.) They are making a lot of coffee in a fancy coffee machine. The big owl guards are like a foot taller than any of the humans, but never speak and barely move. The grad students ask us questions all night.

Valeria asks them about Druids. Quercus: “We’ve had some interaction, some of our field expeditions have reported wild animal attacks consistent with druidic magic. It can be hard to tell what’s druid magic and what’s just the Curse! Have any actually talked to us? Certainly not, though Professor Williams described how something had written the words Go Away in the dirt and smashed up all his equipment.” (Insight: He is not lying about this, as far as he is aware.)

In the morning, as we step out of the repurposed church, we see a white bird flying toward us. He has a little coat on! He opens his mouth and Darius’ voice comes out. “Hey! We got worried when you were out and the mists came up.” (We were gone 14 hours.)

“Boy, do we have a story for you!”

“Sweet, I’ll make some popcorn. I love popcorn. Oh, that was Daikon talking. Hey Bea! Is it safe to feed Daikon popcorn? Wait, I’m still talking through the bird-”

We walk back to the center of Holzog with Daikon relaying Darius’ questions. Darius himself is letting the Condotierri know to let us through.

“Is there any chance you were exposed to the corrupting influence of the curse?”

Everyone’s like “Um, well, UHHH,” and Shoshana just sighs. “That ship has SAILED for me, my dude.”

“All right, Bea might give you three ladies a once over, the Q-man will look at Gral. We gotta search you for eyeballs, demon runes, you know the drill.” We are promised there will be only mild nudity. Clem and Shoshana are not particularly thrilled with the idea of nudity.

We plan to go on the Mornheim expedition, so the DM has us draw cards from his Dangerous Roads deck for the journey. We draw The Folk, The Harvest, The Outlaws, and The Outlaws again.

We’ll go into more detail about the end of our time in Holzog at the beginning of our next session, but we do check in with Ser Quentin to let him know we’re alive, and that we’re game to go on the Mornheim expedition with him.

He tells us, “Very well. In a couple of days a supply caravan will be leaving for Mornheim. Unfortunately, I will not be able to go to Mornheim with you. I will leave Holzog with you, but Ser Brigid has asked me to report to Holska and explain why one of our best leads on the origin of the Curse is now a corpse.”

We roll Knowledge: History. Ser Brigid König probably refers to the old woman who is the founder and leader of the Cursebreaker Knights. Holska Castle is Cursebreaker HQ. It’s a derelict castle that has had rumors of infestation by vampires/cultists/local legends (mostly vampires) for centuries. There are tons of spooky stories. When the Curse first presented, the first Cursebreakers led by Ser Brigid stormed Holska and turned it into their HQ. No reports of vampires; general assumption is they found the vamps and killed them all, and then had a free castle they could set up in.

We don’t roll well enough to know who she was before the Curse. A knight of the Greatwood, but we’re not sure from where or what origin. High ranked enough that when she sent out the word, a bunch of people answered the call.

We’ll learn more next session.

[cursewoodrecap]

Session 6.2 Addendum: Shoshana’s Note

During the long rest, Shoshana writes out a note in Orcish and leaves it in the false bottom of the crate: 

"Bullbreaker, 

The remains of Gar Kala'shek and Vek "Thrice-Burned" Garna'duu have been recovered by Gral "Joybringer" Omokk'duu, survivor of your expedition. He has sworn to return them home and sing them into the Allsoul with the names you have chosen.

Your father mourns you. If you find this message, know that the gate here can lead you home. Look for the artists' house - it is half here, and half in our world. The Hounds still hunt in the between-places and the void is full of madness. Do not travel alone. 

We will do all we can to honor your companions. I hope that someday you may return to your people as well.

-Shoshana bat Chaya of Valdia”

[cursewoodrecap]

Session 4.1: Gral’s Story

Following session 4, we continued Gral and Valeria’s audience with Baroness Francesca von Holzog via text chat. This is a transcript of that conversation.

Scene: The Audience Hall of the Barony of Holzogh, A multi-purpose room dominated by a long table. Past the table a space has been cleared, and a pair of high-backed chairs sit on an elevated stage at one end. In one of those chairs sits a tiefling woman with royal blue skin, four horns, two sweeping forwards, and two curling back, emerge from her dark hair. This is the Baroness Francesca Von Holzogh. She is flanked by two Holzogh soldiers, and a small crowd of scribes and servants waits in the wings. At your back stands the Cursebreaker Knight Darius, who escorted you here and introduced you. PC's present: Gral and Valeria. 

 The Baroness turns her pitch black eyes toward Gral. "A Champion, you say?" 

Gral:  "Yes. I did not see it myself, but I've seen what it's capable of. Have you heard of Bullbreaker's Expedition?"

The Baroness:  "I have. I heard that it failed, just like every attempt to reach Valdsheart.”

Gral:  "We had won a war against a man so close to godhood, that we thought nothing could stop us. So, when faced with these cursed lands, our first solution was war against it.

First we were to scout the depths of the woods, find the source of the curse, then strike at it with dozens of our strongest warriors. Our leader was Boruk Urma'Tok, son of Shieldeater, an incredible warrior who earned the name 'Bullbreaker' for his strength.

 It was foolish. Our military marching through townships scared the locals, stifling relations since, and even worse, it alerted something deep in the heart of the woods.

Our vanguard set up camp as far as they deemed safe, and then sent forth a small scouting party before moving further. I was the bard in that scouting party.

We were several hours out from the vanguard’s camp, when things suddenly got dark. I suppose that must’ve come from the mist. We heard wolves, and set up a fire to dissuade them, but they didn’t care.

First one wolf rushed in, quickly dispatched, then two, then four. Every time, the wolves that attacked were larger, more twisted by the curse. We could see more eyes glowing in the distance, illuminated by the fire, but they seemed content with observing us. Eventually, the wolves stopped, and then we heard it.

There was a loud growl, that seemed to come from the trees, the ground, from inside us, a dark song filled with whispers promising everything you’ve ever wanted. I could block it out with the song of the Allsoul, but my troops were shaken from it. The trees shifted, space warped around us, and then the wolves came again, if you could even call them that anymore. 

These beasts had no hair, no skin, spines made of writhing flesh, extra legs and eyes. They were nothing like anything we've seen before. They moved in time with the roar as if following instructions, and fought viciously.

I fought as best I could, but as soon as there was a break in the fighting, I looked up and noticed that I was the only one left. I tried sending messages to my squad, but no response, so I ran back to the vanguard's camp, to warn them.

When I arrived, the camp was torn apart, some tents missing, as if swallowed up by the woods entirely. First I went to the tent where we keep the scrolls of sending, but those were torn up immediately. They disabled communications first. Whatever this fiend is, it is very intelligent.

After that, I sang the death-song for all the bodies I could find, but most were gone, including Bullbreaker. I had hoped they were able to flee to Barroch, but when I finally made it back, beaten and exhausted, I was the only one who returned. None of them will never join the Allsoul. It is my greatest failure.

It's not an easy memory to recall, but you need to know what you're dealing with."

-

The Baroness considers Graal's words. "The Beasts you describe match what our lookouts have seen stalking the fog, although they seem to vanish from the valley once it lifts. So far, they've expressed no interest in the shelters, seeming content to prey on stragglers and livestock left out when the mists come. Your talk of an intelligence guiding these beasts is worrying. Our current precautions assumed we were dealing with wild beasts, but if what you say is true, then we cannot be complacent. "

 She slumps down and sighs "Although, beyond warning my soldiers, inspecting the forts for any signs of tampering, and asking the Cursebreakers to continue their investigations into the fog, I must admit, I am at a loss for what to do about it."

Valeria:  "Do you have any idea where it might be coming from?" Valeria addresses the question to both Gral and the Baroness.

Gral:  "I know so little about it, despite all it's done. Perhaps that is why it never shows itself, some weakness we could exploit." 

Gral turns to the Baroness. "I've been thinking about it since hearing that growl last night. Your current course is prudent. An evacuation would give it the opportunity it's looking for, and right now, it either can't assault the town, or doesn't want to. But, I worry a day will come when the wall cracks, and whispers reach a weak-willed guard with a set of keys. It might be weeks, months, but the possibility exists until we find out what it is, and how to kill it."

The Baroness: "The Fog always begins on the Lake. It will stay there for a few hours before it begins to spread and drift around the valley. When it is sighted, we sound the bells and order people to the shelters. It then expands out from the lake and shifts around the valley. We find evidence of violence - people and animals ripped apart. Those who are caught in the fog and survive are given to the Cursebreakers for interviews. I understand that most of them report nothing but strange sounds and lights in the fog, presumably those that encounter something do not survive. Is that correct, Darius?" 

(Valeria and Gral are asked to roll insight checks.)

Darius: "Yes Baroness, that is correct.  If anybody has survived the fog and seen anything we can't see from the outside we haven't been able to find them.”

(Valeria knows that Darius is hiding something)

Valeria:  "No one?" And when he hesitates I'll add, "Don't you think the Baroness needs to know what's going on here?"

Gral picks up on Valeria's words and turns towards Darius. "This situation is much too dire to be keeping secrets."

(DM:  Y'all really just going to call out Darius like that in front of everybody.)

All eyes in the room turn to Darius. "Well, there is one that we suspect may have seen something, but they are not especially lucid, we-"

The Baroness interrupts. "A common madman then. We cannot afford to waste time on the harmless ramblings of moonwitted fools. I trust, Darius, that you will come forwards with any actionable information. Now, if you will excuse me, I must return to work. Thank you." 

(You may attempt an Insight check before you are hustled out the door.)

The Baroness was not surprised by anything Darius said. She already knew about this "Madman", and she was trying quite hard to shut down further public discussion on the subject. With a crit, you can know that she trusts the Cursebreaker's judgement about what information to make public, although, apparently she doesn’t trust them enough to not spy on them. 

I will say that Darius is willing to take you to see The Madman, who is currently being kept at the Cursebreaker's office.

-end scene-

[cursewoodrecap]

Session 4: Heresy

Our cards for this session: The Hunter, The Knight, The Madness, The Heretic.

This week: I took EXCELLENT notes, probably because I was physically incapable of speaking and had to conduct all roleplay via telegram.

Back at Shoshana’s house, we crash for a long rest. Ser Balderich is convinced to take the only bed, because he’s spent the last forty-eight hours in a curse hole. Shoshana is surprised - and a little saddened, in a way - to see that his time in the supernatural darkness has not affected Ser Balderich seemingly at all, unlike her. Beggar Knights are granted strong protection from Rack, the god of suffering and mercy, and likely this is what helped him resist corruption.

Didn’t help him resist breaking his bones, though. He’s gonna stick around in Ovruch to heal and to protect the town. Shoshana warns him that her cats are probably going to stay here and be assholes, and he laughs it off. He’s fought the most terrible monsters known to man - cat-wrangling can be his next adventure! She laughs with him, but warns him that they are affected by the Curse - he may have to put them down, when they get too aggressive to save.

Ser Balderich takes the chance to lay down some wisdom on the young witch: “I’ve seen a lot since I started fighting the Curse. It can turn a man’s hands to claws, it can break his mind, but it cannot make you a monster unless you allow it. I have seen people barely recognizable as humanoid who have the noblest hearts. And I’ve seen men you wouldn’t blink at in the market with the most monstrous hearts of all. Don’t let anyone turn you into something you’re not.”

The man has INCREDIBLE Dad Energy. It’s so potent he almost immediately falls asleep in an armchair in front of the football game.

Meanwhile, Gral rolls a 19 and, in his own words, “wakes up in the morning feelin’ like P. Diddy.” 

Shoshana leaves a letter for Herschel the innkeeper, letting him know “I think she’s alive - I’m going to find her,” and then we get on the road to the town of Holzog, Ser Quentin Morozov’s base of operations.

The party is hustling along the road, being Super Quiet and Awkward because we’re all stoic assholes with secrets (not you, Valeria, you’re an angel and we’re glad you’re here). Then, rapid hoofbeats! Coming along a fork in the road, a company of lightly armored riders bearing the crest of a rook upon their shields thunders past us. Despite our absolutely terrible history rolls, the DM can’t resist telling us that these are Condotierri - mercenaries from Ventallus, known for being highly professional, highly skilled, and deeply cautious about any venture too dangerous to be worth their hire price. They seem to be headed to Holzog as well, just much faster.

Holzog is set in a valley, surrounded by huge craggy hills that the Curse has made dark and foreboding. We know it’s a much bigger town than Ovruch, sustained mostly by fishing on the large lake that butts up against it. There’s a strange smell on the breeze - it’s familiar to Gral, but he can’t quite place it, not with a perception check that low.

Awkward road conversation is made (”SO UH I SEE YOU’RE A LARGE LIZARD PERSON. HOW’S THAT GOING FOR YOU. WHERE YA FROM.”) but Valeria’s explanation of how she’s from Aurentium, the Golden City, the shining example of the post-Aquilian Empire!!! is interrupted by the sight of a big ol’ keep on the horizon, flying a flag with the crest of Holzog. Looks like a watchtower that’s been recently expanded. Soldiers are stopping a caravan of merchants and ushering them inside. We head on over.

A halfling woman in fancier armor than the rest of the soldiers introduces herself as Captain Claudia. “Road’s closed ‘till morning,” she tells us. “The mists are out.”

From the tower’s windows we can see a strange, shimmering purple mist has indeed descended on the town, purple and rippling. The hell is that?!

Captin Claudia says hell if she knows, but baroness’s orders are not to fuck with it, and the valley’s shut down until it’s gone. Usually takes 12 hours or so. Comes out of the lake.” The baroness of Holzog has established this roadhouse for travelers who are stuck. Claudia’s in charge, and she’s not above using her musket or kicking us out into the woods in order to keep the peace. She confirms the Condotierri we saw were hired by the baroness as extra muscle to guard the forts around the town - but they only answer to their captain, and they keep avoiding the rough jobs.

So we’re stuck here for the night. We go chat with the merchants - a Demish furrier shows us the weird cursed furs that are all the rage in fashion right now (this one’s purple! with spines!) and Valeria manages to buy some Fortified Demish Healing Wine off him - for discount price, because you’d hardly sell GOOD wine to these beer-swilling Valdian yokels, and Valeria, being a noble AND a dragonborn, rolls pretty darn well on her snob check. 

There’s a bookseller, too. Clem makes the practical decision of purchasing some journals published by Sturmhearst University about the latest research into the Curse. Valeria gets a beautifully illustrated heroic tale of the Peacock Knight, founder of the Knights Radiant. Shoshana, who has more money in her pocket than she’s had in maybe ever, giddily buys a dramatic Gallish pirate adventure. 

The door slams open, dramatically. “Why, Captain Claudia! I had heard the mists were up in the valley, and I did so hope you would be the one to host us this night!” Two humans stride in. First comes a lean man with a goatee and a big hat with a feather in it, his white leather cape falling over a gleaming sword. Behind him comes a muscular, angry-looking woman, with similar hair and features, lugging a huge lumpy sack and two nasty-looking warhammers. Both prominently wear the symbol of a sword and hammer crossed over a sun - the symbol of the Knights Radiant.

“Ah! Do not fear, huddled citizens of Valdia! You will not need to pass this night in fear of the things that lurk beyond the walls, for the Knights Radiant are here!”

Captain Claudia tells him to can it and go help his sister carry stuff. The gentleman in the majestic hat mourns that sadly, duty keeps us apart, and yet - oh hey, I have an audience.

“Who here would like to hear how my sister and I slew the werewolf of Vanderburg?!” he declares with a flourish to the gawking merchants, and us. “My sister Fiona and were in Vanderburg when we heard the distinctive howl, the locals were terrified of the beast, who had been taking cattle and stalking them for weeks. We laid our trap! Knowing the wolf preferred beautiful long haired women, we obtained a fancy dress! My sister hid in the bushes while I played bait. Then, I drew my silver blade!” It’s all very dramatic. His blade glows as he waves it around dramatically. The descriptions get flowery. The story is very heroic. “So you need not fear anything tonight – oh. There’s already knight-looking people here. Well, you still don’t need to fear anything because I am HERE!”

Thanks, All Might. We continue to awkwardly look like a blatantly obvious adventuring party, which has clearly thrown Mr. Hero off his game a little.

His large, intimidating sister taps him on the shoulder and rapidly motions to him in sign language. “OK fiiiine, I won’t tell the story of how we cleansed the cemetery of ghouls – Fiona, don’t speak for them, I’m working here. Remember, sister, our mission does not end when the beast is slain, but when spirits are lifted!”

The aforementioned Fiona looks at us, pulls out a wineskin, takes a slug of alcohol, and offers it up. Clem identifies it immediately as primo, grade-A trench hooch. Cooked in a dented greathelm, made of spit and armor polish. Clem happily accepts a swig of what most folks would identify as industrial solvent. 

Fiona’s theatrical brother notices Valeria’s new Peacock Knight book and decides to come bother miss – uh, Kyr? Kyr Dragonborn, please allow me to introduce myself, I’m SER FLYNN FAIRGOLD OF THE KNIGHTS RADIANT, DEFENDER OF THE PEOPLE, PROTECTOR OF VALDIA. My lovely sister is SER FIONA FAIRGOLD. She has neglected to take any additional titles. THE HUMBLE. I gave her that one.

”What’s he in town for? “My sister and I are here upon a dangerous quest! A noble seeker of truth tasked us to investigate and retrieve a-” He notices Fiona making a cut-throat gesture. “Yes, we are delivering things to a knight of much renown!”

Us: “Is it Ser Quentin Morozov? Because he’s the guy we’re gonna go bother.”

Flynn: “...Why yes! Ser Morozov is a frequent employer of ours! He dispatches us, his most trusted agents, as far as possible! He knows that the further we travel from him, the more evil we defeat and hopes we raise. Honestly, I usually check in on our uncle while our sister talks to him. While you’re in Holzogh, check out the Greencloak Inn, my uncle runs it-”

Shoshana begins to make conversation about knowing guys who run inns named after wars with elves. (Greencloak being a term for Kevan soldiers.) Gral tries to ask Fiona about her travels, but she just points to her throat, which is covered in thick burn scars. We’re all settling in for a night’s conversation when there’s a banging at the doors, and Captain Claudia shouting “nO DON’T OPEN THE...gates, dammit.”

A group of men pour in, uniformed in rough white clothes bound with chains. They bear a banner with the image of bloody chains, and their leader wears a thin blindfold over scarred eyes and carries a wicked-looking thorned whip.

He intones, “REJOICE, CITIZENS. THE GODS HAVE SPOKEN TO ME. WITHIN THIS FORTRESS LIES ONE DEEPLY TOUCHED BY EVIL. A BEING WHO HAS BOUND THEMSELVES TO THE DARKEST POWERS. THEY LURK AMONG YOU! BUT REJOICE, FOR WE HAVE COME, TO MAKE THEM FACE THE JUSTICE OF THE GODS.”

Shoshana immediately rolls for stealth and dives behind the largest available Clem.

These, we know, are the Penitent Knights: militant devotees of Rack that fanatically slay anyone deemed to be sinful, in order to excise the Curse from among the people. They are...not known for remembering the “mercy” part of their god’s whole shtick. 

“LET THE EVILDOER OR ANY WHO KNOW OF THEM STEP FORTH, THAT WE MAY BE ABOUT OUR HOLY BUSINESS.”

Valeria immediately uses her Divine Sense to detect whether there are, actually, any Fiends among us. Nobody pings the radar, though our wrapped tapestry is a little suspect, but there’s a slight whiff of...something?...from the Fairgolds, who are beginning to look just a little nervous. Especially emanating from Fiona’s back and shoulder?

We all simultaneously remember that Fiona was carrying a huge mysterious sack earlier, like a buff warrior Santa. HMM. The bag’s nowhere to be seen, though - she put it somewhere in the keep while Flynn was telling stories.

Meanwhile, Valeria is not about to put up with these creeps going all Spanish Inquisition on a bunch of innocent merchants, and stands up to reveal her impressive presence. “None here are any sort of fiend!”

“DO YOU SPEAK TRUE, OR ARE YOU A DECEIVER?”

“I’ve taken my oaths, I am no deceiver!” Valeria rolls an excellent persuasion check and looks Very Knightly and Trustworthy. Everyone in the room is on her side. Well, except the captain of the creeps:

“AND YET I KNOW THAT WITHIN THIS FORTRESS A VILE HERETIC RESIDES. MEN! SEARCH THE PLACE FOR SIGNS OF HERESY.“

Valeria: “There’s no need for any of that.”

“I WILL NOT SEE JUSTICE UNDONE.”

“Whatever you’re looking for isn’t here!”

“AND YET I KNOW THAT IT IS. UPON MY AUTHORITY AS AN AGENT OF THE ARCHCLERIC OF RACK, I DEMAND TO SEARCH THIS FACILITY AND DISPENSE THE JUSTICE OF RACK.”

Valeria, also being an agent of Rack’s justice, thinks this guy is full of crap and tells him in no uncertain terms to get lost. Gral, Clem, and both Fairgolds decide to assist by Looming Intimidatingly. They’re very good at it.

“VERY WELL. GOOD PEOPLE, THIS KNIGHT OF THE ROSE HAS DECLARED RESPONSIBILITY FOR YOUR SAFETY THIS NIGHT. LET ANY EVIL THAT BEFALLS THIS PLACE BE UPON HER HEAD.” With that ominous proclamation, the Knights Penitent shuffle back outside the gates. Captain Claudia wastes absolutely zero time making sure everything is locked and barred.

“Yeah, sorry you had to see that. They creep me right the heck out,” she tells us. Out of sight of the merchants, she motions to us surreptitiously. “But there’s something you should see.”

Flynn: “UM, my dearest Claudia-”

Claudia: “Shut it, Flynn, I think the Knight of the Rose has the right to know.”

As she leads us back towards the dungeon-y part of the keep, she berates Flynn further: “Dammit, Fairgold, I’ve got people here who are my responsibility. If you knew they were following you-”

She takes us back to the keep’s single jail cell. Inside is a battered, emaciated elf, thoroughly bound and gagged, and unconscious to boot. He’s covered in tattoos, and even the idiots among us can tell the symbols are fiendish in nature. Clem recognizes what he is on sight. Back during the Ascension war, there were members of Raspult’s cult - who he gave free reign to do all evil, on the reasoning that once he was king of the gods, he would forgive them for everything and anything done in his name - called the Marked. They would tattoo themselves with sacrificial blood and demonic symbols, mad-eyed cultists able to summon demons by making themselves bleed. The worst part of battling them: wounding them could just as easily summon the demons as if the cultist had done it themself. 

Clem is not best pleased. “Who brought him here?!”

Flynn: “Welllllll...that would be us. See, Ser Morozov sent us to investigate reports of a demon summoner. We found him, slew some of his imps, and my sister Fiona choked him out. We’ve been tasked to bring him back for interrogation; Ser Morozov believes that followers of Raspult may have information on how the Curse came to be.”

Clem, who has seen combat with these bastards, is incensed. “So you brought him here, to a keep full of innocent people? He has an ARSENAL tattooed onto his skin!” Gral, who has not personally fought a Marked, claims he can access memories of those who fought them through the Orcish Allsoul, and that yes, they are absolutely that bad.

“He’s drugged unconscious, it’s one night-”

“If - WHEN - he gets lucky, just once, everyone here could die!”

“Well, we couldn’t let the Penitents get him! If they found him, they’d drag him out in public and whip him until he bleeds to death with their chains!”

We all pause a moment, to contemplate just how Super Absolutely Not Good that scenario would be.

Clem’s still not having it. “So you brought him INSIDE a stronghold filled with civilians? When he gets free, their blood will be on your hands,” she hisses, filled with contempt.

We all agree that even though it’s one night, someone will stand guard. We can’t all fit into the small jail room, so we’ll take shifts. Whoever is on guard will take our magical horn, so they can sound the alarm the second anything happens.

Flynn and Valeria take first watch, and roll just absolutely terrible on all their perception checks. They hear a noise in the other room, and Flynn goes to investigate. Valeria promptly gets clubbed over the head with a blackjack.

Two Penitents have snuck inside and are making a beeline for the now-awake elf in the jail cell. Roll for initiative, everyone, it’s ON.

Clem is woken up by the magic horn and Nat 20′s on initiative out of sheer rage, and everyone else is woken up by Clem’s vehement cussing. The Penitents get some damn good hits in on Flynn and Valeria, but with Clem and Fiona crashing in as extra tanks and Gral and Shoshana sniping spells from behind, neither one makes it into the cell. The bound elf is struggling and making noise, but hasn’t managed to get free or summon anything.

Clem immediately turns on the Fairgolds, punching Flynn in the face and spitting that this is exactly why the Marked should never have been left alive! I told you, and it’s been what, an hour?! Now Clean. Up. Your. MESS.

Fiona signs to her brother that the rest of the Penitent Knights have been sighted outside, waiting for the prisoner. We all know that we can’t let them have him, they’ll release the demons on his skin. Clem argues that we should do now what we should have done two hours ago: kill him immediately.

Clem Valeria, a hint of the Hunt’s corruption in her expression, concurs.

Gral stalks up to the cell, growling at the Marked for his crimes. “Defiler of our ruined lands, we have killed your god and we will kill you too. If you struggle we will kill you faster.” His Words of Terror ability chillingly cows the tattooed elf into submission.

Shoshana quietly asks if this means we’re interrogating the elf, or if we can get on with it already - because, after all, a sorcerer can kill without ever making their target bleed.

Seeing no objection, she uses the rest of her spell slots to repeatedly Chromatic Orb him to death with cold damage. Clem must roll a will save when seeing a humanoid die - albeit super-rapidly - from the elements, but succeeds with a stony glare of contempt toward the cultist.

Once she’s done, she coldly looks back at the rest of the gathered warriors. “See? This,” she says, gesturing to the dead elf, “is why you should just put things like me DOWN, when you have the chance.” She stalks off into the keep.

Clem stares down the Fairgolds and then similarly storms off in a rage, leaving Gral and Valeria to figure out what to do with the bodies. 

Though the tattoos have become inert now that the cultist is dead, the Fairgolds still want to bring the body to Ser Quentin - Speak With Dead can grant the Cursebreakers a limited amount of interrogation, at least. But the Penitents outside aren’t going to leave without proof their quarry is dead. 

Gral sends their leader a Message cantrip: “Inquisitor, you have breached our trust and peace by sending your agents here, but we do not want further conflict. We have the corpse of the fiend you seek.”

They meet the Penitents at the gate and show them the body.  “I apologize for my men, they were…overeager,” says the Inquisitor. Upon seeing the frozen body: “The god’s justice has been done this night. Justice…can be cold. Thank you for seeing it my way. Do you have my men?”

Well, uh, technically, yes? Gral and the fort’s soldiers give them the bodies. The Inquisitor doesn’t even look particularly bothered by his men’s deaths. 

Just as Gral is going back inside the gates, though, he hears something, carried on the mists. A terrible, familiar sound. He immediately dashes inside, calling to Close The Fucking Gates (the guards were already on it, they are barricaded as HECK).

Meanwhile, Valeria tracks down Shoshana, who is curled in a ball in a corner somewhere. She sits down next to her - not quite crowding, but close enough to touch. “That...thing was nothing like you. You know that, right? He chose that, over and over again.”

Shoshana’s not comforted. “Yeah, well, I knew people who wouldn’t have chosen what they did, until the Curse changed ‘em.”

“It doesn’t work like that.”

“You think those were the first cats I ever adopted?” Shoshana asks. “I’ve had to put them down, when they got so fucked up and aggressive that they were just little monsters. Eventually the Curse wins, every time.”

She leans on Valeria’s shoulder. “It’s gonna happen to me eventually. Just...minimize the damage, you know?”

“It doesn’t have to happen. You can choose differently. You’ve been choosing differently.”“

“If I’m lucky. If I keep getting lucky. And...I just want you to know. When the time comes and you have to do it, I’m not mad or anything.”

Clem finds her way to the courtyard and drinks alone all night. 

On those depressing notes, the morning comes! A troop of Condotierri ride by and declare that the mists have cleared. Captain Claudia shooes everyone out of the roadhouse, thanks for coming, safe travels, BUH-BYE. 

We walk with the Fairgolds and make it to Holzog by mid-morning. The Condotierri at the gates give us the hairy eyeball but don’t stop us, probably because we’re with Flynn and Fiona. We head to the old mining office that the Cursebreakers have taken as their headquarters, while Flynn bounces off to arrange rooms at his uncle’s inn and avoid talking to Ser Quentin.

A sly-looking fellow in a long coat, holding a book with an eye on the front, greets us at the door. This is Contractor Darius, a Cursebreaker Knight using the title of a Celestial Warlock of Torme. He has a white bird familiar who we immediately, in reference to a previous campaign, dub Daikon. Darius leads us inside.

Ser Quentin Morozov is a gaunt elf with silver spectacles and a bandolier of knives across his chest, examining a wall of maps covered in pins and strings. “Ah, Fiona,” he says. “Did your brother learn to cast Hold Person?”

She shakes her head.

“Then you have brought me a corpse instead of a prisoner.” His disdain is palpable, but we explain what happened. It takes him a moment to remember who the hell Shoshana is, despite meeting her only a few days ago - he finds the correct journal entry: mild corruption, unlikely to be a threat. Anyway: he’s happy to hear we’ve rescued Ser Balderich (and entirely unsurprised at the other knight’s foolhardiness, and rather intrigued with the gory tapestry we’ve brought him. He’ll certainly have to interview all of us about the Hunt.

Gral inquires about the Mist, implying that he might know something about it. Here’s what the Cursebreakers have: Darius has studied it. It rises out of the lake and seems to spread, wandering irrespective of wind. Living things caught in it get corrupted, maybe with lingering effects. Monsters and beasts seem to roam within it. It originates within the lake, and the fish in the lake have shown signs of corruption. All travel is forbidden when the mist is out, by order of the Baroness - a wise policy, in Ser Quentin’s opinion.

This is unsatisfying to Gral, who anxiously insists he has to have an audience with the Baroness about the Mist.

Meanwhile, Clem inquires with Ser Quentin whether he is familiar with a group of Kevan soldiers known as the Red Hand - she’s a former member. Indeed, he’s worked with them before. One of the more excellent entourages he’s hired. He assures her that he last saw them unharmed, but with a strange twist. 

He had taken them on an expedition to Mornheim, the territory ruled by Ser Balderich’s family, known for its apple orchards and its extensive necropolis. Before the Curse, Mornheim had been famous in that its lands spawned no undead, so many wealthy and noble families would send their dead to be buried there, unbothered by magic. And then the Curse hit, and that streak broke, and now there’s a LOT of undead there due to the extensive burial grounds. 

When Ser Quentin had taken the Red Hand on an expedition to fight the undead in Mornheim and investigate the catacombs, a member of the party had been separated from the group during an ambush. Ser Quentin would have left the young man for dead, but his comrades insisted on going back for him.

“They returned with their companion the next day, but there was something strange about him. He was very secretive around me. Hid things from me – and you must be very good to be able to hide things from me. Shortly afterward, they announced their intention to leave my service. I did have some of them followed. Some of them left Valdia and headed south to the Crownlands or Keva. Others went different directions throughout the Greatwood. I do not have evidence to say yet, but part of my expedition to Mornheim is to figure out what happened. Rather uncharacteristically unprofessional that they didn’t tell me.”

Ser Quentin gives us a monetary reward for saving Ser Balderich and bringing him the tapestry, and asks us to sign on for his expedition to Mornheim to investigate what caused the undead to rise, and what happened to the Red Hand. Clem is, obviously, interested, but Gral is far more interested in the mists.

Ser Quentin pulls some strings and gets Gral his audience with the Baroness. Gral and Valeria go in - Clem’s not interested, and Shoshana is pretty sure they don’t just let peasants in there. Darius escorts them in, to a small audience room in which the Baroness is working. There are guards and clerks and scribes there, doing their work. The Baroness is a beautiful tiefling woman with royal blue skin, pitch-black eyes, and four horns, one set curling forwards and the others pointing back. She wears a royal purple gown and a simple silver circlet as a symbol of office. 

The Baroness Francesca von Holzogh addresses Gral with a posh Ventallan accent. “Is this another entreaty from your Duke to join his forces?”

It is not. Gral instead brings up the mist, and asks her if she is aware of the theory that the Curse has its own agenda. She affirms that Ser Quentin has shared the theory with her. 

“The Curse has not only its own agenda but its own Champions,” says Gral. “I heard the cry of its Champion last night in the mist. We need to talk.”

-fade to black-

[cursewoodrecap]

Session 16: No Not Like That

Aw, been a while since I wrote one of these! Anyway: we run into some dickheads and try to solve things the not-murder way for once. 

On the road outside Bad Herzfeld, the trolls slowly begin to peel off and go their separate ways. Dr. Kjeller and his new bodyguard Kjell are the last to leave the main road, stopping to say goodbye to the small contingent of humanoids.

“Welp, dis trolls’ moot has certainly been an experience,” Dr. Kjeller sagely intones. “I would not say a success. The two of us are going to tour around and tell all the trolls we can find to stay away. I believe a trolls’ moot is not uncalled for, but we must look for a different place. Ideally one not full of weird fungus people. And, please, if there is anything I can do to help you….well, I guess you’d have to find me first.” He tips his travelin’ hat and departs. Gral tips his mask in return. He’s getting the hang of these Valdian customs!

It seems like the Orcish outriders have already left to report back to Duke Shieldeater, so it’s just us, the Fairgolds, and the beleaguered innkeeper and his daughter. What do we do with the civilians? I mean, we’re headed to Mornheim, and even if we’re gonna fix the water it seems kinda rude to drop someone off in Zombie Town. Flynn offers to introduce Aaron to his innkeeper uncle back in Holzog, to see if he can get a job there.

Flynn and Fiona are gonna stick with us to Mornheim. “Look, you had all the fun up there in Bad Herzfeld; I’m not gonna let the four of you get all the glory. You’re gonna do a big ritual and save the whole town? I gotta see this.”

We spend a couple uneventful days hiking back to Three Oaks Junction, where we’ll split up with Aaron and Rebecca. The DM tries to waylay us with a destroyed bridge over a fast-moving river, but we have a Ring of Jumping and a magical alligator. We’re fine. We roll some bad perception checks on watch and our rations get stolen by Curse Raccoons.

ANYWAY. As we get back onto the major roads, Gral is the first to notice something odd: there’s no carts coming from the direction of Three Oaks. Sure, it’s late evening, but last time we were here there was still a heavy buzz of activity through the busy trade stop. We approach extra-cautiously, making sure the civilians are in the protected center of the group.

The town comes into view, and it’s immediately obvious something has changed. A hasty palisade wall has been constructed around the town, and a banner has been hung over the gate, white with a red insignia of a bloody chain.

Shoshana groans. “AAUUUUGH, are you fuckin’ kidding me?!”

“Um, did the town always look like that?” Rebecca asks hesitantly.

Valeria shakes her head. “Not last week, it didn’t!”

Gral pulls the duo aside and gives them the Cliffs Notes: “We’re about to run into the Penitents. Talk about Rack as much as you can and hide behind Valeria. I hate dealing with these folks, but it looks like they put this place on lockdown, and we gotta make sure y’all are safe.”

Outside the gate, there’s a uniformed Penitent Knight keeping watch over a group of citizens who are digging graves. The gate itself seems to be manned by standard town militiamen, being supervised by another Penitent. Valeria casts a quick eye over the scene with Detect Magic, but finds nothing amiss. As she approaches (we’re wisely letting the paladin lead), a guardsman shouts “Halt!”

She stops at a polite distance. “Kyr Valeria Argent, at your service,” she announces formally. “What’s going on here?”

“By order of the town council, all who seek admittance to the town must submit to examination for heretical artifacts or influences,” the guardsman recites, scriptedly. The Penitent behind him nods in approval.

She meets his eye with an intimidating draconic stare. “We have artifacts we need to bring to the Cursebreaker Knights. Perhaps we can check them at the door and pick them up later?”

“Uhhh,” the guy says, his script clearly not having prepared him for that. “…maybe you should talk to the Inquisitor. He’s gonna want to speak to you about these ‘artifacts.’”

He has us wait a minute, and we take a quick mental inventory. We’ve got an evil skeleton tapestry, spooky lutestrings, the Eyegis, and one (1) entire Shoshana.

A group of six Penitents arrive and escort us stiffly into the town. The place is crowded as all get out; it looks like a lot of travelers have been stuck here way longer than they anticipated. There’s only two properly empty spaces: one’s some sort of enormous construction site, and the other is the area where the circus tent was; it seems nobody’s been brave enough to move into the spot or even clean up the ashy, crumbling remains.

There’s a rather unusual cart sitting among the crowded caravan parking, immediately familiar from the two reptilian beasts of burden hitched next to it. There’s a bit of a staredown happening; two Penitents are remaining remarkably steadfast in the face of two enormous, glowering tattooed figures. We can’t pop over to say hi; our escort is hustling us along and we’re not sure that knowing us would do Lucinius any favors.

Valeria’s about vibrating out of her skin, indignant at all these unfairly-detained innocents, and looks about a second away from drawing her sword and opening up a can o’ Righteousness. But no time for that; we’re being ushered inside the sheriff’s office.

The small-town hoosegow is cramped; there’s been makeshift cages built all along one wall, seemingly as some kind of holding cells, all of them full. Shoshana appraises the prisoners out of the corner of her eye. They all seem to have slight Curse mutations, but so vaguely that it could just be garden-variety weirdness. Sure, that guy could be a werewolf, but he might just be a real hairy dude. That lady looks sallow and corpselike, but not more so than any garden-variety resident of Mornheim.

Shoshana, her clawed hands shoved deep in her pockets, is strung tense as a lutestring. Valeria’s still managing to feign chilly politeness, but both of them are half a breath away from fight or flight.

Gral’s not looking at the prisoners. He’s too busy looking at the guard. There’s two burly Penitents at the door, which is unsurprising, but Gral could swear he’s seen the one on the left before.

He’s pretty sure we killed that guy back at the roadhouse.

The guard doesn’t seem to recognize us at all, but he’s pretty badly scarred, exactly in the way someone might be if they took a hit from a drow soldier’s greatsword.

We’re pulled out of our wary observations by a familiar, unwelcome voice. “Ah. Kyr Argent, wasn’t it?”

“It is,” Valeria allows frostily, as the Inquisitor glides into the room.

“It is good to see you again – in a manner of speaking,” he says, chuckling at his own joke as he gestures to his blindfolded eyes. “Yes, from the descriptions of the heroes who defeated the heretical circus, I suspected I might have the pleasure of working with you once again. What brings you to Three Oaks Junction?”

“Oh, we’re just passing through. Y’know, like travelers do,” she answers, her polite smile showing just a little too much fang.

“Yes, of course. As you can see, this town has become very useful in our war against the Curse.”

“Is it, now.”

“After the incident with the circus, the town council was afraid. Many of them had attended the performance, after all. They were worried that there might be some…aftereffects. Fortunately, my people were nearby, and they summoned me immediately to examine the town for signs of the Curse’s corruption. As we were here, it became clear what an asset this town is – just as the heretics used it to corrupt many at once, we can use it to root out those heretics who hide among us.

“On our first day here, we found one who bore the mark of the curse. I examined him myself. Foul lycanthropy. He was, of course, executed. Now, none pass through this place without our inspection, and we have found many others. You may have seen some of them outside, awaiting a more thorough examination. My work has kept me too busy to give each case the attention it truly deserves.

“The town council has been very accommodating. I have written to my fellows, and we are working on converting and expanding their humble chapel into a true bastion of Rack’s justice, where the divine light of the gods may lay bare the evil that hides among us, that walks the roads of this land spreading its poison.”

Gral mutters, aside, “Don’t think anyone’s walkin’ these roads now…”

The Inquisitor claps his hands briskly. “Now. I understand you are in possession of some artifacts, objects that you are transporting on behalf of the Cursebreaker Knights. I fear for our brothers amongst the Cursebreakers; their mission is noble but they meddle with powers they do not understand. There are things in this wood it is better not to trifle with. Bring the items to me, and I will inspect them. Those I deem acceptable may remain in your protection, but anything too dangerous must be destroyed. Should the Cursebreakers fall to corruption, we would lose some of our greatest assets in this war. Help me protect the Cursebreakers, Kyr Argent. Show me what you are transporting for them.”

Valeria nearly decks him then and there, but a quiet brush of shoulders reminds her of the trembling sorceress behind her. Not here, not now, not when we’re surrounded. If they get an excuse to get aggressive, Shoshana’s sunk.

We busy ourselves with pulling out Weird Yet Harmless artifacts. What kind of random space trinkets did we find, again? Clem shows them the Eldritch Cookbook, and we take a gamble by letting them look at the Pale King’s tapestry, which is a bit large and hard to hide.

“Very well. I will examine these,” the Inquisitor says smoothly, his tone giving no insight into whether he knows we have far more blasphemous things to hide. “Gunter! Find them lodging within the town. Once I have examined these items for corruption, I must confirm that none of you have been corrupted by their presence.”

Valeria smiles tightly. “I’m certain they are corrupted, but not corrupting.”

“With all due respect, Kyr, I have made a study of corruption. Now, because of your…esteemed position,” he says, gesturing toward her rose-emblazoned armor, “you are no doubt on a mission of some considerable importance. I will endeavor to expedite your case as much as I can.”

“Oh, there’s no need to give us special treatment. All the travelers here need to get through,” she responds pointedly.

The Inquisitor’s serene, condescending expression does not change. “You may go,” he dismisses. “I am very busy. As I’m sure you know, the work of good in times of evil is ceaseless.”

Valeria bows to the exact millimeter that politeness requires, and no further. He’s blind, and doesn’t notice.

As we’re ushered back out, Shoshana tries to catch the eye of one of the caged prisoners. They mostly just look scared, not evil, and there’s no sign they recognize she’s also corrupted.

Clem, meanwhile, takes the opportunity to scrutinize the weirdly familiar guy at the door. He looks perfectly healthy, except for all the scars. She elbows Valeria, who confirms with her Divine Sense that this is just a normal dude, not an undead. He’s either one hundred percent living, or whatever nonsense that brought him back from murder is specifically cloaked in a way that would fool a paladin’s senses.

Our escort shows us to a place to set up camp. There are several inns in town, but all of them are fairly occupied at moment. We’re pretty sure that a Knight of the Rose, hero who slew the dread circus, could pre-empt a less fancy guest, but we’re all chill with camping as long as we get to hit up a food truck or something.

We meet back up with our friends. The Fairgolds, who are pretty familiar with Three Oaks, are pretty shaken by the drastic changes. Aaron and Rebecca, meanwhile, are shocked. “Is this what the rest of the woods is like?!” Aaron asks. “I knew things were bad out here, but I assumed once we got out of Bad Herzfeld…”

“Different places have different issues,” Gral explains kindly. “Some are the kind you’re already familiar with. And apparently some places are afflicted with Penitent Knights.”

“Even before that, there was an undead curse which afflicted this place-“

“-Which we DEALT WITH just fine-“ Valeria interjects grumpily.

“-and Holzog’s safe now, but it had its own weird issues we had to deal with too. The Curse is everywhere; you can’t really get around it without clear-cutting the forest,” Shoshana admits.

We get the lay of the land. Commerce has slowed, but not stopped. The Penitents are searching everyone going through here. If they find nothing, they let you go. Most of the crowd is just people waiting for their turn to get checked. We see a few times, though - if something about you pings them as weird, they take you away.

Basically, we are in line at the TSA.

Guess we’ll take a walk.

We skirt warily around a Penitent street preacher who’s shouting something about justice, and casting out evil, and how Rack appreciates your sacrifice in these trying times.

“Sacrifice is a WILLING thing,” grumbles Valeria.

We walk around and do some casual recon. Much of the town is still a perpetual campsite/bazaar, but near the more permanent municipal buildings, several work crews are busy with construction, which the locals tell us is supposed to be some kind of temple. Quite a few rough tents with Penitent insignias are pitched by that area. The town militia is out in force, and it’s much bigger than when we passed through last week. Maybe half of the people running around on patrol are actually trained fighters; most of the new recruits barely even look like weekend warriors. Every patrol, without exception, is being supervised by at least one Penitent.

People are scared, mostly. Nobody around seems happy with the Penitents, but a lot of the people around have reluctantly agreed that Something Had To Be Done about threats like the circus, and there weren’t any other available options. No one’s enthusiastic they’re there, but neither are they vocally critical. Then again, we worry, maybe anyone who’s been speaking out or causing trouble has, uh, disappeared.

We make our way back to our own wagon. If we’re gonna go Get In Trouble, like adventurers do, it’s probably time to part ways with our civilian friends. We pool 40 gold for Aaron and Rebecca (Clem contributing nothing because giving money is WAY too personal; Shoshana giving extra because she’s projecting really hard onto them) and Aaron’s eyes go wide. Oh, right, most people don’t make adventurer amounts of cash? It’ll be enough to get them safely set up in Holzog, with money to spare. They leave to set up their own travel plans, stuttering awkward thanks.

Flynn, meanwhile, grins. “Don’t think you’re getting rid of us that easily. You guys are terrible liars, I know you’re plotting something.”

We admit we don’t actually have a plan, but Valeria is adamant that This Nonsense Cannot Stand.

Let’s go recruit some allies, maybe? Gral wanders within Message range of Lucinius’ wagon, which is very clearly cordoned off and under guard. Bjorn and Ingborg are still there, but there’s no sign of the dragonborn.

“Heyy it’s us, what’s going on? Over.”

“Hello. We cannot leave. The Professor was taken. They wished to search the cart. He explained what he has and what he has found, that he is carrying important research. He would not allow them to confiscate his research, and he went to speak to the one in charge. That was three days ago; we have not seen him since. It is our duty to protect the man, but we have not seen a way to fulfil that duty without getting ourselves killed.”

We promise to keep them posted, and ask them to sit tight so when we make our move, it’ll be coordinated.

Next, Gral and Shoshana go down to the local pub to see if we can find anyone that’s particularly malcontented with the Penitents. We assume religious zealots are not much for hanging around bars. They don’t seem to be much into worldly pleasures, coughzombiecough.

Nobody’s talking too much shit until they get a couple of drinks in them but we do find some people griping, mostly merchants passing through. Pierre the Demish furrier, who we met back at the Holzog roadhouse, has turned up again; apparently the Penitents seized a good deal of his stock. And he’s been reduced to drinking BEER. He has OPINIONS about that. (It does not stop him drinking lots of it; he has to drown his sorrows at being denied worthy alcohol.)

Gral tries to butter him up a bit by letting him ramble about Demish wine. “When you drink a bottle of Demish wine, you taste centuries of tradition in that vineyard! You taste the earth itself, the hands of the farmers. It is sweet and it stings and it is good. What is this? Barley? Hops? HOPS? Hop is a verb, hop is not an object. Hop is for bunnies. The bunnies may eat the hops, and then I will cook the bunnies,” he mumbles into his unsatisfactory beer.

Gral fumbles for sommelier expertise. “I come from a smaller river village; wine tastes different farm to farm. It’s not just about the plants, but the social experience.”

“It is the same for us, yes? A region’s wine is its SPIRIT. You go to the border of the goblin swamps, and the wine there tastes like fire and blood, like the steel of the chevaliers that defend it.”  Go to Petit le Fere, it tastes like long summer nights. Go to Marsène, the wine tastes like – have you ever been in love, Monsieur Orc?”

“Uh, n-no?”

It tastes like the first time you and your lover locked eyes and laughed together. That was my favorite wine. This? This tastes like mud with pretensions of alcohol.”

“It’s not the steel of the chevaliers, but it’s the taste of hardworking people. And if the penitents have their way, there won’t be a town here anymore.”

Gral butters the guy up enough to find out a few basic details: there’s about two dozen proper knights, but they’ve got local militia and volunteers to swell their numbers. A lot of people are very keen to get on good terms with the new bosses, whether it’s because they’re afraid of the Penitents or afraid of the things out in the woods that the Penitents have promised to fight.

“I was here to get a blood-red deer pelt with wolf’s teeth,” the trader complains. “I know a chevalier who would pay dearly to have it worked into his armor. And now it has been taken away!  For my ‘protection,’ apparently. I had to surrender the rest of my stock to avoid being thrown in those cages.”

Everybody in the tavern seems to be on good behavior – sure, there’s folks displeased with the Penitents, but nobody’s gonna do anything about it; if you look like you might be up to something, you’re gonna get dragged off. And Pierre’s been keeping a low profile ever since he saw that blue dragonborn get dragged down into the basement of the sheriff’s office.

Shoshana, meanwhile, slides over to a tough-looking lady at the end of the bar in militia-style leather armor. “Hey, you look like you’d know the system here. We just got in to town; how long before they search our cart and let us go?”

“A couple days; we got a huge backlog,” the woman, who’s introduced herself as Vanessa, tells her. “Depends on how much they suspect you. Some people, they like to leave ‘em here for a while, to watch ‘em for anything suspicious.”

“You say that like you’re not involved? You’re dressed like you’re with the militia.”

“Technically I am. Second-in-command, or I was, before all this. Not sure who is now. Hell, I was the one making noise at Sheriff Wilbur about getting more muscle after that circus thing. If you folks hadn’t shown up, I dunno what would have happened.”

“So you all get bossed around by the Penitents now?”

“Look, half the kids in the militia right now barely know which end of a spear is up. The Penitents agreed to supplement what we had.”

“…yyyyyeah, it kinda feels like they’re calling the shots, though?”

She sighs. “Yeah. Look, I had the idea that we needed to beef up, bring in experienced vets. I was hoping to get mercs or something, and then they showed up and filled the role. They made some kinda deal with the town council, y’know, they’d provide extra security in exchange for being given jurisdiction over anybody found to be corrupt. Sounded fine to us at the time. See, we didn’t make the connection that if they were with the militia, they’d be the ones making the call who all’s corrupt or not.”

“How many people have been deemed, uh, ‘corrupt’?” Shoshana asks.

“More than I’d like, but not enough to get everyone all up in arms. Everybody’s pretty sure that most people will be fine. Hell, most people probably will be. When someone goes to trial, they take ‘em to the sheriff’s office. That Inquisitor guy looks at ya, says a few magic words, and most of ‘em he lets go. A few get taken to the cages for a further exam. I dunno what that means – don’t know anybody who’s been let go after that. A couple of times he just made a motion and bam, those knights beat the poor bastard to death on the spot and burned all their belongings.”

Vanessa doesn’t look too thrilled about that, so Shoshana decides it’s time to confide a little. “Even with the entire town vouching for me that I helped with the Circus, I’m worried I’m a target.”

“Well, I don’t mean to say anything, but I saw y’all leaving the sheriff’s office. You’re gonna get called in; you’re exactly the type. Even before all those stories about burning down circus tent with your magic powers.” She stares into her beer. “They’ve gotta be crazy. There’s plenty of crazy in the forest for them to deal with, why the hell are they in my town?!”

The problem is, the Town Council, which is what passes for a governing body in Three Oaks, have signed off on the whole deal. “The council’s just three people – the sheriff, Burgermeister Menner, and Remick – he’s the guy who keeps the shrine up and running. They all agreed to have the Penitents come in, but we haven’t seen much of any of them except the Sheriff since.”

Shoshana files that info away for later. “You said the sheriff’s still out and about?”

“He’s – look. Wilbur’s never been the most enthusiastic about bein’ sheriff. We served together, way back, in the house guard of the von Kempt family. Even back then he got the job because he’d been a sergeant. The guy was always happiest taking orders, rather than giving them. And hell, most of the sheriff job was just keeping things running today same as yesterday. But he got pretty spooked by the circus thing. That kinda shit’s scarier than your ordinary pack of wolves or bandits. I tried to get him to do something, but he seems comfortable with penitents calling the shots. He trusts they’re the experts and know what’s best here.”

The Burgermeister’s been pretty busy with this whole thing, apparently, and Remick hasn’t really left his little shrine. The Penitents don’t use that one – they’re more into big prayer ceremonies and dramatically flogging themselves in the street, and they’re starting construction on their own grand temple. Something about “showing faith by constructing a worthy house of worship,” and all that.

Vanessa’s grumbling about the heavy restrictions on the gates into town and the perimeter patrols, so Shoshana strategizes. “Have you had problems with people hopping the fence?”

“I mean, normally, no? Town regulations say go through the gates, but we’ve always had teenagers hopping the wall, or people with business outside who don’t feel like walking all the way to gate – never a real problem, until this whole nonsense. I’m not on patrol anymore, but as far as I can tell people are too scared to try in case they get caught. Probably a good way to get declared a potential heretic.”

Apparently the wall isn’t super well maintained; there’s plenty of places a few charming scamps could get in or out if they’re willing to scramble a little. It’s a trade stop, not a fortress.

We don’t get too much more info around town, and decide to investigate the town council in the morning. We take watch overnight, but nothing happens.

In the morning, we split up to cover more ground; Clem and Gral head to the Burgermeister’s, while Valeria and Shoshana try to hit up the local chief cleric.

Clem and Gral arrive at the biggest house in town. There’s a Penitent standing guard outside the door. They skulk around nonchalantly to the back to properly recon. There’s no Penitents watching the back, so Gral slinks up to a window to peer inside. It’s pretty normal; there’s a woman baking bread. Clem points out that we’ll definitely look like the bad guys if we break into an occupied home, so…the polite approach it is.

“The Burgermeister is not feeling well and cannot see visitors,” the knight at the gate intones.

“We’re here on urgent business,” Gral improvises. “We are the adventurers who defeated the circus; we wish to talk to him about the restoration efforts.” He rolls a properly bardic persuasion check, but it’s still like talking to a brick wall.

However, the door opens behind the stoic guard. “Who is it?” An elegant middle-aged woman peers out at us. “Wait, don’t I recognize you?”

“Yes, we assisted in deposing the circus!” Gral replies warmly. “Gral Omokk’du; I serve Duke Shieldeater.”

“Clementine Haxan,” Clem offers laconically.

“Ah, yes. Please do come in. You left town so quickly, my husband and I weren’t able to properly thank you!”

“We had urgent business elsewhere,” Gral admits, the picture of good manners. “I suppose that’s how life is.”

They make pleasantries with the woman, Meredith, who falls easily into the role of gracious host.

“We had concerns to bring up with the Burgermeister, but what’s this I hear about him being unwell?”

“Yes, he’s been bedridden the last week. A bit of the flu; he’s getting to that age. Mostly it’s just the fatigue, really.”

Clem tuts. “I’m a bit of a medic myself. The flu can be very serious when someone is in advanced years. I could potentially give a clearer diagnosis, maybe alleviate some of his pain?”

Meredith visibly brightens. “I was thinking about sending for a doctor anyway; please come on up, I’ll see if he’s ready to take visitors.”

The Burgermeister has CORONAVIRUS and we’re in QUARANTINE.

She leads them upstairs. “Dear? Aldrich? Remember those people who helped with the circus? One’s a doctor!” She listens for a moment. “You’re tired? You’ve been tired for a week. No, that’s not normal. It’s normal to get a doctor!” She turns back to the two visitors. “He’s being silly, come on up.”

“I don’t need a doctor, just rest!” we hear a harrumphing voice complain.

He is lying in bed in his pajamas. Ah, this is the burger kingdom! No, it’s my burger meistdom

“Hello sir, I’m Clementine Haxan. This is my nurse, Gral Omokk’du.”

“An orcish nurse?” the Burgermeister

“I’m not as experienced as Miss Haxan, but I served as a medic during the Ascension War,” Gral seamlessly bullshits.

“Look I’ve just picked up a bit of a bug and I need rest;” he grumps. “It’ll go away after a bit and I’ll resume my duties.”

“That may very well be true, but gods forbid it’s serious,” Clem says in her best Bedside Manner Voice. “It’ll be good to have it looked it.”

“Ugh, poke and prod me, do what you have to,” he reluctantly concedes.

Clem makes a medicine check with Dr. Wendell’s assistance. The man’s not entirely healthy - his cholesterol is a bit high maybe - but he’s hardly an invalid. He genuinely seems to have some kind of cold or flu, but it’s very mild at this point. There’s no way he should still be bedbound. Maybe it’s just Clem’s standards as an army doctor, but if a soldier came up to her with these symptoms asking to be let off duty the prescription would be “stop wasting my time and go dig latrines.”

Gral insights the guy. He’s not lying; he honestly believes he needs rest. But the way he keeps repeating the word “rest” feels a bit weird. The vibe isn’t “this person feels sick and fatigued,” it’s “this person has an insistent conviction that He Needs Rest.”

“Rest” isn’t a Prisoner buzzword, but Gral’s seen bards cast Suggestion before, and that seems to line up a little too well. Unfortunately, he can’t just Dispel Magic the darn thing; it’s too artful and subtle for that.

Gral decides to fish for a bit more info. “Before we leave you to your rest, how long have you had this flu?”

“About a week? The Inquisitor comes by every morning to update me on the town’s situation. Though I must rest and cannot attend to my duties, a town’s Burgermeister still must keep up with the times!”

“When did you first come into contact with him alone?”

“Oh, I insisted on a meeting when he first came into town a week ago.”

Interesting. The Burgermeister falls ill just in time so that the only information he gets about the town comes from the Inquisitor himself.

Wife doesn’t go out much, armed guard outside

Did he update you on the cage and the executions?

Have been capturing some neer do wells that seek to do harm to town, held for further questioning, some eliminated to protect town like common bandits or beasts.

Saw people in cages! How would you describe them, Clem.

Clem: didn’t strike me as especially dangerous folk

“Well, neither did that ringleader! He only seemed as eccentric as any other traveling performer!”

“Sure,” Gral argues, “but that’s when he had time to prepare his lies and his magic. These scared people in cages wouldn’t be able to hide if they tried. Honestly, the worst I saw was an excessive amount of body hair.”

“Fine, fine, I will inspect these prisoners personally as soon as I feel better, which should be any day now!”

“With all due respect, you fell ill right after this Inquisitor started talking to you. I don’t think it’s a coincidence. Miss Haxan says you’re fine-“

“No I’m not! I need rest!” the Burgermeister interjects heatedly.

“We saved the town, and we’ve had trouble with Penitents before. I believe he has a spell on you. Please, let me try to remove it.”

“I’ve no time for your insane ravings, orc. The Inquisitor is a man of faith! Now leave me to my rest. Dr. Haxan, I appreciate your diagnosis, but I tire easily these days. Have my wife show you out.”

Gral knows the effect of Suggestion is only about 8 hours, but it’s subtle mental manipulation; it lasts. If the Inquisitor is coming by every morning, that’s the perfect opportunity to refresh the charm.

The two of them head out, Clem politely prescribing a short calisthenic routine for the man and, oh, he’s on the mend but just in caaaase he’s contagious the Inquisitor probably shouldn’t visit for a few days?

His wife agrees that sounds reasonable, but it probably won’t stop the guy. They say their gracious goodbyes.

Meanwhile, Shoshana and Valeria are headin’ to church. It’s a tiny thing; there are naves for the three gods we expect, but it doesn’t have the traditional empty throne of Oberok and we’d be surprised if it had a proper hidden shrine for the trickster god Guile. There’s a few people around, and luckily no Penitents posted outside.

Valeria, of course, stops at the Rack shrine for a short prayer, still getting used to how odd it is to see him depicted as human instead of dragonborn. We notice a few little notes – the Lethe shrine’s sponsored by the local blacksmith. You too can have a sword or hammer just like these, in our showroom down the lane!

A few folks are doing their daily prayers and making offerings. They’re all locals and travelers; there’s not a single Penitent in sight, which is pretty odd. There’s no services right now, so we head over to the old man who’s cleaning up candle drippings under one of the offerings. Valeria introduces herself, at your service as per usual.

“Ah, Kyr Argent! I remember you, from that blond man’s story about the circus! Keeper Remick, at your service. How may I aid you?”

Valeria asks him how, as a keeper of the faith, he feels about the Penitents.

“Well, in these times, faith is very important. And they certainly have plenty of that. And that’s a good thing, isn’t it? As a paladin, I’m sure you agree.”

“Faith is one thing, but I can’t say I’m pleased with what they’ve misguidedly done here,” Valeria sniffs.

“As I see it, they’re keeping the town safe. The Inquisitor explained it to me. It’s the will of the gods! Desperate times call for desperate measures, and, well, times are pretty desperate when you can’t even trust a circus! With your mind, that is. With your wallet, Guile walks with them, doesn’t he? Anyhow. These Penitent fellows, they seem extreme, but is there any other option?”

“There must be,” Valeria declares. “They’re detaining people at a crossroads, that’s the work of oppression.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far – see, the Inquisitor explained it to me. He is an experienced scholar of the faith, with a keen – not eye, I guess. A keen sense for the corruption that lurks in the hearts of men. I am, to be honest, just a glorified janitor!”

“I’m certain you’re more than that,” Valeria objects.

“Oh, there’s no need for that. It’s a role I’ve found fulfilling, keeping this place and these people.”

“Well, it seems like they’re brushing past this place in search of something new.”

“Yes, heh. I believe the intent is to make this town a bastion of faith. I’m sure that my little spot here will still remain in use, but more glorification to the gods is good, right?”

We botch an insight check and don’t get a real good sense of him. There isn’t the sense that he’s lying about anything – our impression is he believes it’s not his place to stand in the Penitents’ way; they must know better than him. He’s an old man who’s done a noble job, but he doesn’t think he’s cut out for determining who is or isn’t a danger to the town.

We try another tack: “I understand you’re on the town council?”

“I am. Don’t know why, really. We used to have a proper cleric, decades ago. When he died, I was closest thing to a replacement we had! As the keeper of town’s faith, I hold one of the three seats. Burgermeister Menner does most of running the town, but for the big things he calls in myself and the sheriff and we all take a vote.”

“Then you must have been a big part of bringing the Penitents in?”

“Well, Sheriff Wilbur’s the one who brought their offer to us. I did vote in favor, yes. The Inquisitor showed up personally with his people and described the whole arrangement he had in mind. The Penitents would reinforce and train our militia, and those guilty of corruption would be remanded into their custody for justice. It all seemed very reasonable; sheriff Wilbur does his best but clearly he and his deputies aren’t enough on their own, not against this sort of curse. Burgermeister Menner fell ill shortly afterwards, and I’ve been very busy here doing what I can to keep up folks’ faith.”

Shoshana butts in. “Have you actually been out to see the Penitents work?”

“Yes, once. It disturbed me, but I understand it couldn’t be avoided. The Inquisitor suggested it might be best to avoid seeing such things that upset me so.”

“But if it upsets you – wouldn’t you be the one with authority to change things?!” Valeria demands, failing a persuasion check.

“Oh, voting on anything like that has to wait until the Burgermeister feels better.”

“Can’t council members do anything on their own?”

“Like I said, we’d have to convene to vote…”

“Sure, for the big things,” Shoshana argues, “But the sheriff and Burgermeister have their own duties, don’t you have your own authority as well?”

“I - I suppose I could call clerics from other towns to take a look?”

Valeria puts a gauntleted hand on his shoulder and sparkles at him with all her charismatic piety. “You’re not just the keeper of the shrine, you’re the keeper of this town’s faith. I know you can make a difference.”

The dice land in her favor. “Yes!” the old man declares. “I will-I will do something. What is it I should do? I’m new to this. I’ve held this seat for 20 years but, well, doing something is new. Mostly council meetings are that the Burgermeister says I’d like to increase the tolls, I say the gods probably won’t argue, the sheriff says it won’t cause a riot, and then he does it. I am not suited for a crisis.”

“Well, what kinds of things do you normally do?”

“Er, sometimes I have to sit in on a trial and make sure the prisoner has an advocate?”

OH YOU’RE A PRISONER ADVOCATE, HUH. WELL BOY DO WE HAVE SOME PRISONERS FOR YOU.

“Why, don’t the Penitents do that as clerics of Rack?”

We politely do not laugh in his face. No, no they do not.

“Oh, then I must go at once!”

We’re gonna reconvene with the rest of the party, and then will see the gods’ justice done! After lunch!

The four of us, plus the Fairgolds, meet up. Flynn reports that there have been no changes; the Penitents let all carts through but seized some items, mostly books. We swap info about the Burgermeister and Keeper Remick. The town leadership is hardly good in a crisis, but the Penitents have definitely been separating and keeping them down on purpose.

The first step is to bring in Keeper Remick as our prisoner advocate for those folks being held in the basement. The old man puffs himself up with as much importance as he can, aided by all of us backing him up looking tough. “AHEM,” he announces to the nonplussed Penitent guard, “as a member the of town council and keeper of town’s faith, let me speak with your prisoners!”

Silence.

“Can I speak to your manager? I mean leader!”

The Penitent shakes his head.

“Now listen here young man, what seat do you hold on the town council?!”

The Penitent finally speaks. “I have been instructed to-“

“To work WITH the town council,” Remick retorts, showing a surprising amount of backbone. “No matter how much experience you all may have, it is my solemn duty to speak with the town’s prisoners! Allow ,e to do my duty or I will be forced to write a sternly worded letter! APOLOGIZING FOR FORCING OUR WAY PAST YOU!”

The Inquisitor glides up behind his guard, listening to Remick’s speech. “Very well,” he intones in his eerily calm voice, “You may…enter.”

We are brought down to basement. It’s a set of maybe 6 cells, more suited to being a drunk tank than any long-term holding cell. In one cell we spot the distinctive scales of a blue dragonborn, and as our footsteps clank on the stone, an equally distinctive voice begins to shout indignantly.

“You brutes, I demand you return my research materials to me! I was in the middle of some important work when- oh, you aren’t the warden. My goodness! Kyr Argent! I must say, it’s rather good to see a familiar face.” Oh, hi, Lucinius.

The cells are overcrowded – there must be 20 prisoners across 6 cells. Lucinius and everyone else crammed in with him look pretty beaten up. They all look completely normal; the ones with visible mutations have been imprisoned where people can see. These are the prisoners they wouldn’t be able to get away with holding publicly.

Lucinius has clearly got a rant building up. “I explained to them many times that I am a professor from Golden Academy, and they refused to listen! They said my studies are ‘heretical’ and my magics ‘invoke the name of the tyrant god’ – yes, obviously, they were written during the Aquilian empire, they said ‘Oberok’ every other word! It’s not a dirty word! Anyhow. Are you here to let us out?”

“We’re here to be advocates!”

“Oh, we’ve had advocates!” Lucinius huffs. “The Inquisitor is the prosecution, while one of those fanatic knights serves as our ‘advocate.’ It’s quite far from ideal; their position as advocate is that we ought to confess, if we understand the gravity of our crimes. And then they hit us a bit.”

“I’m unfamiliar with the customs of this land,” Gral allows, “but that doesn’t exactly sound like proper advocacy.”

“Well, I certainly don’t know how things are done in this country! I’ve never been accused of a cr- well, I have been accused of many crimes,” Lucinius admits. “I find it’s best never to assume about local customs. That got me into a LOT of trouble with the goblins. Did you know they have a ‘trial by fire?’ I misunderstood it, they just light a big fire to keep the courtroom warm while the trial goes all night. I went to great lengths to cast Protection from Energy! And of course it turns out casting spells as a prisoner is double illegal…”

“Double illegal?”

“Yes, it means they bring in twice as many judges.”

As he rants, the sight of innocent prisoners in miserable conditions seems to be a pretty strong argument. Remick’s fully on board with booting the Penitents out as soon as he can convene the town council.

Gral’s going to make a show of it. Loudly, he declares, “This is a violation of these citizens’ basic rights! We’ll need a full meeting of the town council before any Penitent activities continue!”

The Inquisitor hmms. “That’s…certainly something the Burgermeister could order. But nobody may leave if they have not been inspected. If we cannot continue our inspections, the town would shut down entirely.”

“The lockdown would only start once the Burgermeister declares it, which hasn’t happened yet,” Valeria interjects testily.

We’re politely and pointedly escorted out.

Lucinius shouts after us, “Don’t be long! Tell my bodyguards these people are not allowed into the cart without a warrant signed by someone of noble rank, or at least with a judicial position! Also, contact the embassy! They can’t do this to me, I have tenure-!”

The session closes as we discuss how the hell we’re going to get a Proper Council Meeting with the sheriff out “receiving instruction” from the Penitents and the Burgermeister convinced he’s indisposed. And we’ve got to get at least two of the three to vote the intruders out. That’s not gonna happen without them feeling like they have some way to protect the town from the Curse.

We fondly reminisce that our previous campaign’s party would definitely have started murdering people by now.

[cursewoodrecap]

Session 6: To Boldly Go

We go to even weirder places, and meet even weirder people.

Music plays around us, eerily emanating from all directions, as the two musicians play in the broken mirror’s reflection.. The cracks in the mirror glow and hum, and we begin to feel an intense sense of vertigo. Mist leaks out of the cracks, bringing with it a sharp scent of ozone.

From below, the sound is coming from several places throughout the house. The ozone smell seems to be coming from downstairs, down the hall. Gral stiffens in fear as he hears a terrible, familiar sound: a growling, snarling howl. It seems to be coming from multiple places. Gral casts Silence, hoping to stop the music, but the pattern on the walls is still glowing, the mist still flowing around us. (Gral takes inspiration for clever spell use, though.) Glancing out to the hallway, Shoshana sees a shimmering rend appear in midair. Some flickering horrible thing half-phases, half-pulls itself out, like a rat squeezing through a crack in the wall. But it is much, much bigger than a rat. 

Gral recognizes the growling howl of the hounds’ commander, but to him, it sounds like a distortion has been removed where there had previously been one. Like some kind of interference or static is gone. The cry is piping, almost musical. But now he, too, hears the sounds of one of the creatures that attacked Bullbreaker’s Expedition pulling itself out of the portal in the hallway.

Gral remembers that when his expedition was attacked, the horrible flesh-hounds were appearing out of totally nowhere and vanishing the same way. Nobody knew how they were able to catch up to the orcs. And now it’s like, oh, they use Portals in Reality. Cheaters.

Shosha, ironically, casts Mirror Image in defence. The gross, fleshy creature crits a WIS save against Gral’s faltering insult, his sharp wit failing him as he looks on one of the monsters that tore apart his unit. It flails tentacles at us, taking out one of Shoshana’s duplicates and smacking Gral somethin’ good. It seems to be wavering in space, making hitting it difficult and disorienting. Valeria smacks it, which stops its displacer-like defenses. We trade blows, with Valeria and Clem both scoring vital crits, while Gral hightails it to the other side of the room and Shoshana continues to fail to hit.

It spins, flailing with tentacles. Valeria catches one on her shield, and knocks it off balance with trident. She drives forward and pins it down with her weight, allowing Clem to bring down her greatsword, executioner-style, into its neck.

Gral hurriedly warns us: “There are going to be more. We should move. The music was silenced, but not its effect.” Downstairs, we can hear more flesh-hounds. We’ve got to move.

The music and strange monster sounds seemed to come from several sources; maybe looking around will work. Out in the hallway, the pattern on the walls is glowing and vibrating. Picking a door at random, Gral sneaks into the Study. (We wonder whether we are playing Clue. Possibly Betrayal.) Inside, there’s books and papers and notes, covered in frantic scribbles. There are windows, but where we should have been able to see out into the sinkhole, all we can see is eerie mist.

Valeria looks through the papers on desk and notices some of shapes in pattern. The disturbing thing: while some are just sketches, some of these look like rubbings. Looking closer, she sees they are labeled things like “Rubbings from the Drowned City,” or “The Derelict Temple.” Some of the notes are titled “Observations on the Space Between”. 

There is a carved chessboard etched with the pattern, a weirdly spiral shape to it. Shoshana fails her int check hard, which turns out to be a good thing - she avoids taking taint from trying to comprehend whatever is on the chessboard. Clem crits her investigation (for a total 19, because apparently fighters have no book learnin’) and finds a heavy, tattered notebook labeled with the name “Josephine Veluma.” It’s some kind of cross between a dream journal and a musician’s workbook. There’s some writing about “harmonics,” sketches of the pattern, and music notes. We also find an old book titled “Observations of the Planets” by Archiume Vlemisk. Hey, that’s the guy who owns house! Aw, it’s just a regular book about planets. Published by Sturmhearst University Press, of course.

Shoshana heads out of the room and down the hall. She rolls a good perception check but also a good Wis save, and manages not to be completely stunned by what she notices. 

“...Guys? This hallway goes to SPACE.”

Further down the hallway, the walls of the house are peeling away and cracking, revealing some kind of vast void beyond.

Valeria, meanwhile, finds an artist’s studio. This for SURE belonged to the Madman we met in the jail cell. Looks like he did lots of landscapes of the fishing village and the lake. (Oh! There’s one of the old church!) We find some sketchbooks, and one canvas featuring a city with vast towers sticking out of a discolored ocean. The towers are in ruins. They are all made of wildly different materials and architectural styles, positioned at weird angles, like a child throwing toys into the bath. Also, there’s a clearer view from the windows of...a piece of this house? It seems to be floating out in the void, connected by a winding staircase. Looks like the top of a tower, with a big telescope. Ah, yes. Astronomer.

There are definitely flesh-hounds sniffing around, getting closer. Gral urgently warns us that we’ve got to move, and tries to buy us some time by using Minor Illusion to make the door between us and them look like a wall. Meanwhile, Shoshana is still distracted.

“...GUYS, this hallway goes to SPACE???? I’m a peasant, I barely know what space IS, holy fuck, it’s SPACE?!?!?!?”

It is at this point the DM reveals the first part of his truly excellent Roll20 map. Indeed, holy fuck, it’s Space. There’s like, planets. And a long stairway out into the abyss. And a weird bulbous orb of eyeballs, blinkin’ at us. Holy shit, spaaace.

We can’t stay in the house. There’s too many fleshhounds. They’ve made it past Gral’s illusion and they’re sniffing around the stairs. Maybe we’ll go crazy if we stare especially deep into the void, but right now we don’t have much choice except to take the magical stairway to heaven.

So we go on the space stairs! As we step outside the walls of the house, we can house is flickering and shifting and shimmering – it’s in both places at once, the real world and the void. We can see the wooden floor of the conservatory, fractured and shattered, floating in space, strange crystals growing out of the floor and resonating with the music. We can see the two musicians and some other vaguely humanoid figures writhing in a weird rhythmic dance. But no time to stick around, the hounds are coming.

At a peak in the stairs, the strange stone of the pathway suddenly becomes metal? More worryingly, a shimmering vortex of energy and mist is swirling directly to the side of it. Down below, the hounds are following. 

Shoshana, curious, casts Message out into the vortex. Just a simple “HELLO, ANYONE IN THERE?” Worryingly, it responds to her magic, swirling faster. A crackling whip of lightning-like energy snaps out and tries to pull her in. The gangly sorceress’s Str save is baaaad, and she is yanked towards the portal. Clem grabs her, but also beefs her roll and slips, too. Clem and Shoshana tumble into the vortex. Valeria and Gral follow, because they’re way too loyal for their own good.

There is a disconcerting tumble through a dizzying nothing, and then slam! Gral feels cold metal floor bang into his buckling knees as he lands. Blinking the spots out of our eyes, we realize we’re surrounded by unfamiliar sounds. Something to our immediate left is chittering wildly. There’s a crackling of lightning and strange, staticky noises, bleepbeepcrckl. We look up, down a corridor echoing with strange slithering, and clawed feet on metal, and oh fuck, are we in an alien spaceship?!

Well, the players realize that. The characters are FAR more disoriented.

There’s some kind of big machine on the end of room, with a similar vortex of lightning to the one we fell into - looks like we just got spit out of this end. There’s three little guys in matching uniforms, not any species we recognize, in various states of frantic action. One is freaking out at Gral, one is pushing levers on some kind of...weird table? It’s all very complicated-looking, to our medieval-ass eyes. One of the little fellas is staring down hallway at the back of some Large Thing. It kinda looks like a hippo in epaulettes, with a sword on his hip and holding some kind of fancy pistol.

This array of mysterious creatures has assembled some sort of barricade in the hallway. There are noises of swarming creatures on the other side of the barricade. Not the sound of the flesh hounds - these are distinctly insectoid. The big hippo guy turns says something commanding-sounding in an unintelligible language, and turns toward us.

We can’t understand a damn thing anyone is saying, so we’ve got to rely on instinct. An insight check reveals the engineers are Freaking The Fuck Out. Apparently their day has already been quite bad, and now We’re happening to them. They are very scared of us, because we just leaped out of their warp drive, and things are probably not supposed to jump out of warp drives? We don’t know what a warp drive is, but we do know that these guys are ready to panic and shoot us.

Hmm. How to communicate? Shoshana creates a Minor Illusion picturing herself and an engineer-creature shaking hands. Hopefully hand-shaking is a custom they have? She rolls 18 on Persuasion, so nobody attacks...but they’re still pointing weapons at us. Hippo man, who the DM accidentally reveals is the  Security Chief, is definitely nervous. Gral holds up his hands nonthreateningly in what we hope is the universal Look I’m Unarmed pose. One of the little bug-person engineers cautiously pokes him with a metal thing, and then the security chief and bug-engineers chitter at each other.

Valeria rolls well on perception, and notices that as the security chief is talking, a weird purple wormy creature has slithered its way over the barricade and is lurking up behind the chief menacingly.

Valeria hurls a trident, directly towards the chief, who immediately reacts to the aggression, pulling his pistol. And then he turns, to see the trident PINNING THE WORM TO THE WALL. That’s a classic movie moment, folks.

There’s more noises on other side of barricade, though, and it doesn’t sound like it’ll hold for long. We can see past, a little, and there’s more mauve worms and some Big Freakin’ Space Spiders over there. There are also two weird devices just beyond the barricade, one to either side, slightly damaged and sparking. The security chief fires his gun twice – holy shit, a gun that fires more than once? We’re used to the most basic of muskets, that shit is IMPRESSIVE! Blam blam! Two of the worms just get blown apart.

The engineers are motioning and shouting, so we roll another insight to see what they’re trying to communicate. One of them points at the devices beyond the barrier, then reaches into its pocket and pulls out what looks like a stick, or a pencil. It points at the machines, snaps the stick, points the halves at the machines, then mimes putting the halves back together. We don’t roll great insight checks and are left a little puzzled. We gotta make those two devices touch each other?

Well, as Will Smith would say, we a little confused but we got the spirit. Valeria and Clem hop over the barrier and into the fray, getting close to the devices while doing what they do best and chopping some worms in half.

Gral manages a decent investigate check. Seems like one of the spider-bugs’ spines is wedged in the left device. There’s sparks coming out of it, which is...probably bad? Much pointing and shouting directs Valeria to get up close and personal with the machine. Luckily for her non-Int-based stat spread, Valeria crits her Int check to figure out what’s wrong.

She yanks the spike out, first of all. Simple enough. She looks inside. She doesn’t really get the point of all this weird junk in here, but there’s all these weird metal strings, some of which are severed. Looks like they should be connected to each other, probably? Better connect ‘em, then. Luckily they’re color coded! The red one twists on with the red one, blue goes with blue...

Behind the barricade, one of the little bug engineers chitters excitedly! He points at a display on wall panel. Shoshana tries to make sense of what he’s miming. He points at this moving picture. It looks like a vertical bar, and it seems like he wants it to go up. He then points at device.

Hmm. On that moving picture thing, there’s a symbol labeling the bar that’s not far enough up. It looks kinda like lightning bolt.

Now Shoshana might not be no fancy city scientist, but lightning, she can do.

Chromatic Orb sends a bolt of lightning straight into the device!! Luckily, a good enough roll means it does not explode. With a hum, a barrier of crackling energy hums to life between the two devices.

Valeria makes it back to the safe zone before the barrier snaps into place, but Clem has to dive through, and takes some damage. The security chief notices and grunts at one of his bug-engineers. It skitters off and quickly brings back a few metal canisters.

The big guy hands Valeria his gun, and points at one of the large spider-things lurking beyond the energy wall. He cracks open one of the metal canisters, pouring out this weird goop on his hands like sunscreen. He reaches down for Clem and rubs it onto her wounds. It is immediately dubbed “healing mayo,” to my personal utter dismay.

Clem is healed! The goop’s healing process feels REALLY weird. Like ants crawling over you, tingling and itching, and then - oh. The pain numbs, and her charred burns are looking significantly better.

There’s clearly some kind of action going on behind the barrier. Some big metal thing crashes into the hallway, shooting fire. The spiders tackle it and try to push it back. Reinforcements, maybe? We’re not gonna find out, because the bug people suddenly get very excited. One pushes past us and talks to the big hippo security chief, who turns and nods at us meaningfully.

The bug-engineers count down and pull multiple switches simultaneously, then grab onto stuff and hang on for dear life. The swirling vortex of the warp drive reverses direction (perhaps reversing the polarity of the neutron flow?) and we feel its sucking force take hold of us as everything interdimensional gets sucked back to whence it came. As we go careening back, the security chief salutes us. We will always remember you, brave hippo man!

We get spat out back onto the platform in the void, along with some random space junk that got dragged along for the ride. We receive:

-the chief’s space pistol, which he gave to Valeria, which has 5 charges

-one of goop canisters, containing 4 uses of Space Mayo, which Clem calls dibs on

-some sort of weird club-tool-thing made of otherworldly alloy. We assume it’s an adamantine mace. Really, it’s a big ol’ space-wrench.

-”2 generic otherword artifacts,” which we cannot identify. Due to us being dorks, one of them is explicitly declared a Zune. The other is possibly an alien Funko pop.

- the friendship of the space people, the greatest treasure of all.

Hey, we’re back on the path! It’s now made of weirdly spongy green stone. Gross. We can’t hear the hounds anymore. Seems like maybe they lost our scent. 

We head up more stairs, until we see something in front of another portal thing. There’s someone there! This person was clearly once a human, but he has the same pale skin and weird elongated fingers as the painter in the cell. Most disconcertingly, his forehead is just COVERED in like twelve eyes. He has paints spread out around him, and he’s just casually sittin’ there, painting something. He looks up and speaks in familiar Valdian. 

“Oh hello!” He puts on a pair of glasses, which match up with precisely none of the eyes on his face. "Hey, you’re not from here! How did you get here?”

We glance at each other, and then all check our notes to remember the madman’s actual name. “Um, Johann told us how to get here.”

“Oh, Johann! I hope he’s well! We were such good friends! He got stuck on the side we came from, you know,” he tells us blithely, blinking a lot.

“Yeah, he told us you were stuck here”

“Stuck? Heavens, no! We wanted to come here!” he argues. He does rather seem to be enjoying himself. We inquire if the Astronomer is here too, and yup, he’s apparently right up the path!

The fella seems friendly enough. Gral asks him if the hounds have been hostile to him. “No, they know my scent. Why would they be after me? I have permission to be here!”

“Uh, you have permission?”

“Well, I helped build the gate, I certainly hope I can go through it! Artyoum got us permission, really. The Lurker and the Hounds certainly haven’t bothered me.”

Oh, the Lurker? Who’s that? We discover that the Hounds obey the Lurker, and the Lurker protects the gates. It makes sure only those loyal to the Key can go through. Sure sounds like the awful monster that Gral’s squadron had the misfortune to meet.

Valeria and Shoshana take a gander at his art. He’s painting some sort of crab monster? It’s a horrifying thing, this enormous crab monster with weird tendrils emerging out of water in front of a crumbling wall. Wait, there’s an orcish character written on the wall. Just one letter - if there’s more text, it’s off the edge of the canvas. The whole thing definitely looks similar to the madman’s painting of the “drowned city” – a different art style, but clearly same place.

“See, I found a wonderful model!” this new painter tells us. “He tried to eat me, but I calmed him down. I got a good look.” He winks several eyes at us. “That’s the wonderful thing about being here, there’s so much to see! So much to capture! I tried for so long to capture it on this thing” - he knocks his fist on the metal object he’s sitting on - “and then I finally opened my eyes, and just kept opening them! I can see so much now! You should try it!”

We decide we are not going to try it.

“So, uh, do you go to all sorts of different places?”

“Oh, sure! I found this model in the city! I call it the Very Wet City. It’s just up the path that way. There’s some sort of camp just on the other side there. Some poor travelers who’ve gotten lost. Must have gotten past the hounds, somehow.”

Lost travelers? A camp? Gral is immediately on that shit like a halfling on second breakfast. “Were they orcs?”

“I didn’t see them, just what they left behind. A bunch of writing. They left a bunch of stuff there. I didn’t touch it,  it all seemed rather important.”

He gives us directions along the twisting and splintering path. His finger warps into a tentacle as he points , turning in the directions he describes. 

We try to get his name. “Oh, please, call me the Painter! They used to call me Devon. You met Johann, our other painter! He would always criticize my work. He’d tell me I was a terrible artist and that I should leave, but I always knew he was kidding.” 

He laughs heartily, and pulls out the metal object he was sitting on. It’s a shield! He’s painted a lot of really realistic eyes on it. “I’ve been practicing eyes! They seem to be a new theme of mine.” All his eyes blink simultaneously. We could swear that more eyes open up than he had when he closed them.

Another weird bulbous eye orb floats by. We avoid its gaze, but Devon tells us that the proper way to deal with them is to confidently stare them down. We try to say something, but he shushes us - the eye orb is talking! (It’s entirely silent, but he seems to be beginning some kind of spirited debate.)

Oh yeah, you guys should take the shield. Always nice to have someone appreciate your art! 

We have received…The Eyegis.

(The pun takes a second to hit, and then there is CACKLING.)

Devon seems to be talking about pigments with the eye orb. “Out of mummies? Really! What a thought.” He’s absolutely absorbed, now, and waves distractedly goodbye as we scram.

We hang a right at the next crossroads, as Devon the painter told us to do. Gral is nervous, yet heartened at what might remain of his expedition.

“The ones who are alive are probably warped beyond recognition, but I never found Bullbreaker’s body. Warped or not, I can sing it a death song.” The prospect of giving his comrades a fitting funeral seems almost more comforting than the thought of finding them alive.

Gral forges ahead, not stopping as he dives straight into the next portal. We emerge in a weird, ruined, twisted city. There’s a weird mismatch of styles in the architecture, though it’s harder to tell since so many buildings are crumbling apart. We’re not far from the edge of a body of water that stretches far into the distance, swallowing the bases of the buildings. This is the Drowned City. 

We’ve emerged in a crumbling structure of flat grey stone, many-floored but open to the elements. It’s a slightly destroyed modern parking structure. It all seems...rather post-apocalyptic. 

More importantly, there’s remains of a camp here, among the clinging mist. There is Orcish writing on one of the most intact walls.

Gral reads it out: “The Hounds can’t come here. The Whispers are quiet here. And if you can read this, look underneath this crate.” 

We look, of course. The crate at the base of the wall has a false bottom, which we dislodge. Gral finds two weird metal jars and a note, written in a delicate Orcish hand. He reads it quietly, and though it’s hard to gauge emotion behind his painted mask, there is clearly some great significance to what we have found.

Meanwhile, Shoshana rolls a rather high perception. What might “The Whispers are quiet here” mean? She’s somewhat attuned to the feeling of the Curse’s corruption, and the sense of taint does appear significantly lessened here, similar to the spaceship. This place is eerie and creepy as hell, but this is a lower-taint area than the rest of the dungeon mind-bending void. Because, after all, the Key isn’t on this world; it just links to it.

Gral, quiet and still as we had begun to search the campsite, finally speaks. “My comrades’ bodies, as many as could be preserved, are in these urns.”

He is quiet for a moment, listening, sensing. Gral can only very, very, faintly feel his connection to the the Allsoul, so far from home. “We need to take them out of this place,” he decides.

“This note is written by Bullbreaker. He tells of his time here – they spent a lot of time in this void. His remains are not here, but he saved the remains of those he wishes to name postmortem.”

Shoshana has to ask. “He wishes to...name them?”

Gral takes the time to explain: “Yes. Orcs have three names: their first name; their family name, tied in with their nation; and their earned name, for deeds over their lifetime. Earned names are granted by bards and cannot be given by other means, which is why Bullbreaker could not name them himself.

It is not common but sometimes those who gave their lives saving others, or are especially pure of heart, are given names post-mortem. Earned names are sung in the death-song, to ensure they take a proper place of high regard in the Allsoul.”

“Do you have an earned name?”

“Uh, yes. I don’t believe it applies to me now, but I was called Joybringer.” He sighs. “I prefer to use my given name. There is no joy in this place.”

We’re quiet a moment. The stillness of the strange, abandoned place washes over us.

Clem uncorks one of the fancy bottles of elvish vodka, hands it to Gral, and says “I am very sorry you lost your companions.” Gral drinks deeply. Orcs, it turns out, do not have a pour one out custom. (Elves do.)

We look around, subdued. There are signs of life here, but this camp was cleaned up and abandoned some time ago. There are remains of a large pyre – this must have been the funeral pyre for Thrice-Burned, Gral tells us, reading from Bullbreaker’s note. Gral knew him even before the expedition. He was a war hero from Clan Duu, famous for getting lit on fire a lot during the war. “He has the names Fireborn, Twice-Burned, and Thrice-Burned. He had to get a new name every time he got burned, you see.” 

We learn that once a name is given, it is not changed or taken away, but the orc is usually referred to by the most recent or most famous to avoid confusion. For example, Duke Shieldeater has like twelve earned names; everyone just calls him the most relevant one. An earned name is used as a term of respect.

 Shoshana reflects on this as they make camp. “I didn’t know all that, Gral. That’s quite beautiful.”

Gral doesn’t openly say anything, but he’s actually rather touched that a Valdian called his culture beautiful.

THEN A MASSIVE CRAB MONSTER LUNGES OUT OF THE WATER NEXT TO US. YOU THOUGHT WE WERE HAVING A SENTIMENTAL MOMENT, SUCKERS? ROLL FOR INITIATIVE!

Shoshana shrieks and does lightning damage to it, on the reasoning that it is wet, and wet things don’t like electricity. It responds by scuttling up right next to her at top speed and snatchin’ her up with a pincer. It’s very Fay Wray, except with more swearing. Valeria and Clem take stabs at it, but for a Giant Enemy Crab it’s very agile. Clem tries to trip it, but taking one leg out doesn’t do a lot if it’s got like seven more.

Gral casts Dissonant Whispers, hoping to send it running away through the meat grinder of the tanks’ attacks of opportunity. Unfortunately, it carries Shoshana with it, heading right into the sea. WHOOPS. Clem manages to slash at it and bloody it along the way. Valeria follows it and uses her Chains of Rack. It nat 1′s its save. 

Valeria can feel Rack’s presence so, so faintly in this place, but with an effort of faith and will she grabs onto it, fixating on it like a candle in the dark, and yanks his holy power through her. The chains rip out and wrap around the crab, woven with vines that burst into full rose blooms. The thing has a bit of a flower crown now. It looks…very pretty.

Shoshana Burning Handses it in the face instead of trying to escape, which is probably a terrible instinct to have. It whiffs at Valeria a couple times and tries to poison Shoshana, but Shosha saves. It shakes off the Chains, ditching its flower crown. A thousand tumblr moodboards cry out in agony, and fall silent.

Gral uses Phantasmal Force to make a lightning cage, preventing it from fleeing down into the ocean. The DM asks if it can take 1 less damage than the cage does, which, okay? Now it has exactly 69 health. NICE. 

Valeria Smites that. Shosha crits her check to escape and thus does not get any gross crab water in her mouth. It tries to escape the lightning cage and fails, and then Gral hits it with his Psychic Blades to finish it off. Gral’s sickle comes through the underside of the imaginary lightning cage and twists savagely into the stomach. From the crab’s perspective, a cadre of orcish heroes encircle it, and take a stab at it all at once.

Orcs are a river culture. Y’all know how to kill a crawfish.

We drag ourselves away from the shoreline and set up camp in the crevice of some crumbling walls, as far as we can comfortable get from the crab-infested waters. The portal we came through swirls placidly beside us.

We’re hurt and out of spells, and if there’s anywhere to rest on this weird journey, it might as well be here where the taint is faint. We settle in for a long rest, and to entertain ourselves, we read through the cookbook we snagged. It is straight-up an eldritch recipe blog, you guys. 

We have some low-stakes arguments on how many cloves of garlic is the appropriate amount of garlic. (Turns out dragonborns like a LOT of seasoning on their food. Shoshana, being functionally Ashkenazi, is on team All The Garlic. Clem thinks we’re crazy people.)

As we take turns on Crab Watch, Shoshana writes out a note to leave in the false bottom of the crate where Bullbreaker had hidden his comrades’ precious remains. Gral notices, and to quote his player, “likes, subscribes, retweets, and Twitch Primes.”

We wake in the morning and dick around a bit investigating the campsite, but as we’re packing up the last of our belongings and preparing to head back into the terrifying void of the Key, the portal beside us begins to shrink and vanish. Run for it!

Valeria and Gral are about to dive through, when they notice that Clem has fallen behind and Shoshana has rolled a nat 1 and straight up fallen flat on her face. They’re nice people and don’t want to split the party, so they stay. The portal whirls shut and vanishes, leaving behind nothing but a wall of bluish-black stone with a familiar pattern carved into it.

Well, fuck.

We don’t panic yet, though, because we come up with an idea: the portal from the Astronomer’s house opened when the mirror musicians played The Opening of the Ways. And we have the sheet music, and also a musician. Time to jam, Gral.

It takes some skill to adapt the piece for lute on the fly, but he manages. And sure enough, the stone vibrates, glowing cracks appear and begin to leak mist, and the portal swirls back to life. 

Gral gets ready to take a pile o’ taint, but then the DM rolls bad and he only has to take 1. We dash through, once more into the breach, to find our fortune and possibly lose our minds in the distorted between-space.

--

Also, we decide that Bullbreaker, stuck wandering in a futuristic post-apocalypse world and looking for a portal home, is functionally Samurai Jack. And is thus almost certainly shirtless at this very moment.

[cursewoodrecap]

Session 14: Nice Sociable Folk

Everyone is very nice to us, except one grumpy guy.

This one fought me, folks. And Quarantine Depression didn’t really help. So it’s a bit less pared-down than it could be. But speaking of people who should probably be quarantined, have some virulent fungus.

We return to the scene: Valeria has just unceremoniously yanked a mandrake root out of the ground, and it’s doing what mandrakes do, screaming at the top of its lungs (...do plants have lungs???) and raising hell. Which is not GREAT if you’re in the middle of the Spooky Woods Where Monsters Live.

We’re reckless idiots, but that’s on brand.

Shoshana rolls a Nature check to know it’ll stop screaming on its own eventually, and that getting it into our Haversack will stop or dull the noise. Otherwise, the recommended mandrake-harvesting technique is that extreme heat or cold will stun its screaming. Usually people harvest them with daggers heated over a flame.

Problem: Shoshana is only one who knows this, Clem and Val are stunned, and it’s LOUD, so it’s hard to talk. So it’s up to the sorcerer to handle it. She doesn’t want to burn the dang thing to a crisp and make it useless as a spell component, so blasting it with magic is right out. She snatches a torch out of Clem’s backpack and lights it, heating up her small dagger.

Clem fails to shake off the stun, but Valeria recovers. Gral throws an inspiration at Clem, who’s still stuck, and frantically glances around the area to see if the BIG LOUD NOISE has alerted any enemies. In fact, it very much has. A variety of heavy shapes are uprooting themselves out of the dirt, turning blank mossy faces towards us. 

Shosha tries to hurry up on silencing the mandrake, but her haste causes her to fumble it. At least she doesn’t damage the plant.

Gral, still watching, sees the grassy, lumpy creatures pick up rocks and start hurling them. Shoshana gets bonked. A rock bounces off Valeria’s armor. Gral’s looking at those ones, when another one hefts out of the ground behind him and conks him with a big ol’ stone.

“Ah,” Valeria observes. “Yeetroots.”

Clem, even with inspiration, still fails to unstun herself, clutching her hands to her sensitive elven ears.

Gral swings his sickle into a yeetroot’s rooty, tuberous body, a thick sap dripping from the gaping wound. Meanwhile, Shoshana takes a second stab with her hot dagger and manages to silence the awful screaming.

The one Gral bloodied picks him up entirely and yeets him at Clem. Gral bounces off the drow’s armor comically. Clem remains completely undamaged while Gral pouts at being unwillingly Fastball Specialed. Valeria and Shoshana scatter, dodging another volley of heavy rocks.

Taking an entire orc to the face, though, finally breaks Clem out of the stun. She’s ready to lumberjack down some trees - oh, wait, Gral’s lying there moaning. The battle medic gives him a good slather of Space Mayo, and he’s fine, though he probably smells like a sandwich.

Gral and Shoshana pop off a couple of spells for minor effect, the tuberous creatures shrugging off most of the effects. They’re bothered enough to retaliate, though; the one Valeria’s facing off against hefts her into the air for another round of PC Bowling, flattening Shoshana. The hail of rocks from the rest of the Yeetroots doesn’t let up, but their aim is only mediocre.

Aethis snacks on a root-person Valeria nicely carves up for them, and as Clem gets to slicing and dicing it looks like the fight’s falling in our favor.

Suddenly, a short human guy in rough clothing charges ungracefully out of the woods, crossing through the undergrowth strangely quickly for someone so unathletic-looking. He clonks a Yeetroot over the head with a long wooden staff, whacking it a few times for good measure so it stays down, and then looks up at us with a frustrated expression. “What the hell are you kids doing? Get out of here!” he shouts irritably, like we’re trespassing on his lawn. 

He’s got a bit of an accent. It’s much heavier than Shoshana’s; even by her small-town standards it’s the rural accent of someone who speaks Old Valdian regularly.

Gral Dissonant Whispers a Yeetroot, causing it to run past Clem and the Old Dude. It runs straight into Clem’s sword and dies. Shoshana, Valeria, and Aethis efficiently dismantle the last one standing.

Clem’s ears, still sore from the mandrake’s cry, pick up additional movement through the woods. Sounds like the Yeetroots weren’t the only ones interested in loud, clumsy prey.

The old man seems to know it too, and he starts to scold us. “Pulling a mandrake while the woods are like this? Dummkopfen! Now get outta here! Scram!”

“I’m sorry, we didn’t have a choice-“

“What are you doin’ yakkin’? MOVE!” he shouts, turning and dashing into the underbrush. Shoshana barely catches him muttering “those IDIOTS” in Old Valdian as he scrams.

Well, we’re definitely not gonna stick around either. Old Dude went northeast. The Sturmhearst camp is to the south. We’re all thinking this weird crotchety old man is a druid, so he’s gonna know the best way to go and also we could totally ask him a few burning questions. With a concise nod to each other, we dash after the druid, Valeria swinging herself up onto Aethis’ back.

The wooooooooods are aliiiiiiiive, with the sound of monsterrrrrs, but following the druid’s trail we manage to dodge down an old gully and manage to shake any of them who came to investigate the commotion. Unfortunately, we’ve just put all those monsters in between us and the Sturmhearst camp. We pause, crouched in creek bed, as the last walking tree’s footfalls fade into the distance.

Gral breaks the silence: “…wait, was that a druid?”

Shoshana grumps. “How are we gonna FIND him? He could be a SQUIRREL by now! And I’m surprised he even speaks city-folk Valdian.”

We got the sense of how he moved – he hasn’t left a footprint, but we’ve picked up his pattern a bit. We could keep following him, and Valeria suggests the quest will give time for the monsters attracted by our noise to disperse. Gral doesn’t want to pass up the opportunity to find out what the Druids know about the Prisoners, and Valeria’s hopeful he might have seen the other Order of the Rose knight about.

Shoshana beefs her Survival check. We’ve been doing well following his pattern of not disturbing plant or animal tracks, trying to think like a druid wood. But we hit a dead end.

And then Clem casually points out some tracks none of the rest of us can even make out.

Please. Clem Haxan has tracked wood elf partisans. One aging human is nothing.

We follow Clem’s lead for about an hour. As midday approaches, we notice the sense of vibrant, chaotic, suffocating life is fading a little, and the sickening-sweet scent of flowers and spores has lessened. We come upon a grove of trees, standing tall, centered around one utterly massive tree in the middle whose canopy is just barely open enough to allow beams of light to spear through. In every beam, a sapling has begun to grow. Others, a little more seasoned, have grown tall and thin to push up through the great tree’s canopy.

Deeper in the grove, Shoshana can hear a voice in Old Valdian, and it’s mostly swearing.

“Dumb fuckin’ kids, I swear, first it was those meshuggenah bird mask idiots, now we got - what the hell were those morons doing, stirring everything up? Hard enough when the woods are just tryin’ to kill ME without having to keep an eye our for-”

It seems to be a one-sided conversation. Rambling, but pausing for responses that we can’t hear. Shoshana cautiously steps closer.

She wants to be respectful, but the closest thing Old Valdian has to deferential is a greeting without commentary. “...Hello?”

The voice pauses, and then speaks to its silent companion. “Do ya hear something? Go check it out.”

We all roll real bad Perception. Gral is starin’ real hard, and he only sees a squirrel loop the big tree. We don’t hear the druid say anything else.

She tries a Message cantrip: “We wish to respect your solitude, but we need to speak with you.” Hopefully a decent Persuasion roll will do.

“Wait. Hold up,” the voice grumbles in Old Valdian, heaving a massive sigh. “They’re idiots, they’re not gonna-” 

Something big makes a “GRAAHK” noise. 

“No, they’re not gonna go away unless I talk to them. Look, they followed me here. I knew it was unavoidable.” He calls out to us in common Valdian. “All right, come on in, no funny business.”

Being seasoned D&D players, we’re hesitant to cross the giant patch of fallen leaves, but it turns out it’s not a booby trap; it’s just what happens when you’re under a big ol’ tree. They are pleasingly crunchy and probably serve as an excellent intruder warning.

The druid isn’t pleased with our caution. “Either leave or come over here! Let’s get this over with.”

We circle the tree to find a small hut in a sunbeam, with a little garden. The old guy, looking like a hippie Danny DeVito, is sitting outside on a fallen log, prodding a small campfire with a stick as he heats a kettle over it. More notably, there is an owlbear curled up next to the fire.

“I wouldn’t get too close, he likes eatin’ fingers,” the druid grumps. “That’s why he’s called Fingers.”

“Oh! This is Aethis, and I’m Kyr Va-”

“Yeah, yeah, get to the point.”

“Are you a druid?”

“Ah, right to the point.”

We manage to stumble over a quick introduction, and that we want to ask him about the Druids’ actions against the artist’s colony in Holzog.

“So all druids know each other, huh?” He starts peeling a potato, unimpressed.

"I don’t know how druids work! There was an organized attack against cultists of the Key, at an artist's colony at Holzog Valley. Do you know of this, and are the Druids in an organized resistance against the Prisoners?"

 “Are druids an organized anything?” Shoshana snarks.

Druid DeVito rolls his eyes. “Look, mask guy. I go where I’m needed. I don’t know anything about what’s going on in Holzog. I barely know what’s going on here, I just got here!”

“You... just got here?”

“Yeah, like a month or two ago. Hard to get lay of the land when EVERYTHING’S TRYIN TA KILL YOU, not to mention it’s hard to get a handle on things when idiot adventurers are runnin’ around STIRRIN’ THINGS UP!”

Gral soldiers on. “Well, what do you know of the curse corrupting this area? We were here gathering supplies for a ritual, but it seems like there is also trouble here, what with the villagers and the trolls."

Gral is very polite, so the druid grudgingly answers. “Look, here’s how it goes. This” – he taps the tree – “is Mother Tree. It’s important, for reasons. There’s always supposed to be a druid warden here. But something happened. She’s gone now. So I heard it through the grapevine, and I got called in.”

“Was it a literal grapevine?” 

“The old bag and the windy bastard have ways of getting in touch with us, if we’re needed. They told me I gotta go here and – well, so I came. I’m tryin’ to figure out what happened to old warden, figure out what I can do to keep the place safe. It’s a lotta work! But right now I’m trying to make lunch. Because lemme tell you, this owlbear is a lot calmer than most of his type, but he WILL eat me if he gets too hungry.”

“As far as what I know about it? Half the valley got taken. Everything west of the river got overgrown. Haven’t spent much time on the other side; I don’t wanna get spotted. You see what happens when somebody gets a look at me.” He gestures dismissively to all of us. “No good deed, and all that.”

“So half the valley got overgrown. My sources tell me the other half is honestly not doin’ much better, even though it looks better on the outside. Like I said, I’m still tryin’ to get my networks up and running, which is difficult when most of my sources are working for the enemy.”

“Yeah, the villagers have fungus brain,” Shoshana tells him. “Someone who came from this village seemed to be corrupted by fungus, and was working to encourage its spread. Also, they’re bringing in a Fuckton of Trolls to Bad Herzfeld. Which, if they get fungused, is...bad.”

Valeria, meanwhile, is attempting to feed the owlbear some granola. After a moment, she elects to just toss the bag in its direction. Handfeeding an owlbear is Not Wise.

“I’ll add that to my list of problems,” the old man grumbles. “Bunch of sporebrained trolls, sporebrained villagers, plants tryna kill me…all right. How many they got so far?”

“One troll was definitely fungused, but he’s dead. There’s about 8 at the troll moot now. Their food stores look spore-free so far, but we’re going to be looking into the village more.”

“Yeah, they wouldn’t want to be corruptin’ ‘em yet, it’d tip their hand too early. Trolls are usually solitary types. With how the sporebrains work, any new arrivals would be majorly creeped out. They’d want to get a critical mass before they try to get ‘em brainwashed.”

We agree that’s probably the plan. We explain the situation in Holzog, and ask what he knows about the druids’ actions there and whether the druids are the Prisoners’ jailers.

He shrugs. “Me and mine, we don’t talk to each other much. We each got our beats to cover. It’s not like they give us a manual – we’re not super fond of writing things down. Rumor is there’s old sources – real old – that have some knowledge, but otherwise you gotta get lucky and get a visit from the bosses themselves. But they’ve never been the most reliable.”

“The...bosses? Like Baba and Gramps?” Shoshana asks, referring to the old grandmother and grandfather gods of the woods.

“Yeah, they don’t exactly come when you ring a bell. Now I don’t know what old rattlechains, or the angry lady, or the quiet guy, or the sneaky bastard are like, but the chiefs aren’t communicative at the best of times. And since this fakakta Curse thing started they’ve been harder to get a hold of. We get our orders, they keep us busy, but there ain’t much in the way of answers. I’m told to guard this place, and do my thing. The ‘Prisoners,’ or whatever? That’s new to me.

“Look, stay away from the villagers, anyone especially friendly, anyone who talks about love, togetherness, caring, all that crap. Don’t go anyplace overgrown, anyplace with too many mushrooms. Spores will get in your brain.”

“I just do what I’m told. Or infer, really, I’m not told enough to do what I’m told.

If you wanna be helpful – something’s spreading this. The Curse spreads enough on its own, but something’s deliberately spreading it around. Go hunt for whatever’s doing that. Also, I can’t find previous warden – y’know, the person whose beat this is supposed to be.

He’s mostly losing interest in us, but can’t resist one last jab. “What do you need that mandrake for anyway? Half the things you think they can do, they can��t.”

Valeria jumps at the chance to talk about her Quest. “Over in Mornheim they’re dealing with the undead sort of curse. There’s a disease in the water affecting the whole population, and we found a ritual to purify the river! It’s not the sort of magic I usually work with, but I think I can make it function with the plants that I need. I’ve got almost all of them!”

“Hmm. Whatcha missin’?”

We check our notes. “Norbert’s Wort?”

Those Sturmhearst guys might have some, if you wanna try to get it off ‘em. Or there’s a bunch of it growin’ not far from the riverbank. Lemme see this ritual of yours, I wanna make sure you’re not wastin’ your time.”

He gives it the once-over with a surprisingly appreciative eye. “Oh, huh. Rosalind’s work.” He rolls up the scroll, slaps it back into Valeria’s claws, and turns to walk out into the wood. “Get outta here. I got things to do. If you stick around, Fingers will eat ya.”

Wait.

There’s a beat, and then Shoshana starts yelling. “WAIT, ROSALIND? BECAUSE WE FOUND THIS IN THE HOUSE OF A LADY NAMED ROSALIND. AND I DIDN’T THINK YOU GUYS WERE INTO HOUSES? WAIT COME BACK SHE’S A GHOST NOWWWWWW-”

He’s gone. Dammit.

We wave goodbye to Fingers.

As we cautiously make our way out of the grove, Gral is asked to make a Charisma check. A leaf, still stuck to a small bent twig, falls from the great tree and gently helicopters down. He reaches up a hand and catches it out of the air, easily, as if it was intended to find his hand. With an excellent perception check, he glances up and sees the silhouette of a motherly face in the branches. It’s hard to spot among the rustling green canopy, but it’s looking down at us from the branches - he can almost see a wooden torso in one branch – and then the shape pulls back into the branch, moving through it like sand.

Gral experiences an internal hell yes.

Gral has received: one twig with some leaves! It has vibes. This thing is definitely special, and a gift – not from the druid, but from the Mother Tree.

It clearly has Properties, but we do not know what they are.

So, what next? Trying to get the last plant for the spell has a nonzero chance of getting us lost overnight. We could stop by the Sturmhearst annex, or check in on the trolls....wait. Dang it. This morning we told that old lady we’d stay in town overnight. And we’ve already stood up one dinner invitation this arc.

As Clem capably leads us around dangers and toward Sturmhearst, Gral stares at his twig. He can see the leaves seem to move without wind, and he slowly realizes he’s able to predict which ways Clem is gonna lead us based on which way the leaf radar blows. It seems the gift can help find safe passage in the wood!

With a good survival check, we manage to skirt all dangers and the riled-up zone. Once again we smell acrid smoke from Sturmhearst camp and pass by the impassive looking giant owl guards with their flamethrowers. We see Rita the robot chicken hop by with something in her mouth, and follow her into camp. She ignores us and bops right up into the house that contains Prof. Ulmus’ lab.

Hey, we should go check on Flynn! A student directs us to where they’ve set up their clinic in an old barn, and soon we are confronted with a steely-eyed Fiona, arms crossed, glaring at us. “Hi, we, uh-”

She is silent, as usual, but Valeria rolls a nat 20 insight and can read her face like a book. She’s mad that we didn’t come back when we said we would – we made them worry, and also left them alone in this den of academic madness.

Valeria stumbles over a sincere apology until she is interrupted by a solid barbarian hug.

The paladin takes this as her opening to gossip about our day. “We got plants! And got real lost! We slept over a troll’s place!” Fiona makes a surprised gesture. “Yeah, there’s like eight. They have HOUSES. It’s surreal?!?!?! One of them thinks he’s a doctor!”

She’s interrupted when Dr. Ulmus sticks her hand through a curtain and hands off a vial of blood. Valeria now has blood. “Take this to my lab, please.”

Valeria blinks. “O...kay?” She dutifully leaves to take the blood to the lab.

Shoshana can’t keep her mouth shut. “Uh, ma’am? ….did you not notice that wasn’t a grad student?”

“Hm?”

“You gave this to the paladin.”

“…Good. She’ll follow orders. WAIT, YOU’RE BACK!” The doctor bursts through the curtain, beak-first.

“We come bearing fungus!” Clem gives her a vial of fungus. Clem is then ordered to take this to Prof Ulmus’s lab. She does. 

So now we have two tanks in a lab. They try to flag down a grad student and make them do it . No, too bad, they’re busy. Clem is like, what if I’m enormous and intimidating? But the grad student is not impressed. “Please. Do you know what kind of horrors I’m studying? You can’t terrify me.”

Valeria is like FFFF CAN YOU PLEASE JUST TELL ME WHERE THE BLOOD GOES. But the grad student leaves.

Oh hey, that rack has vials of red stuff. She puts the blood in the blood rack.

Clem shrugs, sets the fungus on a random table, and leaves.

Back at the clinic, a pale and haggard Flynn stumbles out and leans on Fiona. “My sister was very worried,” he tells us, making a flimsy effort at his usual grandiosity. “I, of course, had total confidence in you!”

Fiona, deadpan, signs: [He cried.]

Professor Ulmus finally emerges in full. “Well, Mr. Fairgold, I’d say you’re well on your way to recovery! Practice those breathing exercises I showed you and take it easy for next few days.”

Valeria and Clem hustle back, spouting apologizes for missing dinner, because Valeria is polite and Clem is genuinely upset at missing the opportunity to pick the doctor’s brain about medicine.

“Hmm, yes, you’re back! Well, you’re all alive…” Professor Ulmus starts inspecting us, her beaked mask tilting this way and that. “…oh dear.” She prods Clem a bit. “Yes, hmm.” She briskly hands Clem some sort of compressed herb poultice. “You’ll want to eat this.” Clem immediately makes a med check. It’s some kind of medicine, I guess. Clem swallows it. It tastes super gross.

“So!” she chirps. “I look forward to hearing what you’ve learned. How was your expedition, did you find what you were looking for?”

“Most of it,” Valeria admits. “We’re still looking for Norbert’s Wort.”

“I have a bit, but it’s spoken for, I’m afraid. Anyhow, I believe a dinner was planned! It’s a good thing you didn’t show up last night, I forgot all about it. I had to do quite a lot of work on Mr. Fairgold. The fungal infestation in his lungs should be cleared up, although the treatment did leave some aftereffects. Nausea, some trouble breathing for a few days. Nothing major.”

Valeria just sort of awkwardly lifts her hand, offering Lay Ons. He waves her off, bluffing his way past her insight. Sure, he’s fiiiiiiiine.

“He was fortunate. Not the worst I’ve seen – something worse would have required a substantially more radical treatment. More invasive, too. Were any of you exposed?”

“Uhh, not to that, but to other things?” We tell her about the Snorlax bear over a plate of sandwiches.

“Yes, I’ve seen similar phenomena – a fungal colony hijacking a living creature. Unfortunately that’s where my expertise ends – I might have to discuss with my, ugh, colleague in the aberrant biology department.”

Valeria tells her about the dream mushroom feast. “So you tripped on mushrooms and hallucinated and fought some mushroom men. We’ve all been there.” The professor waves it off with disinterest. “Yes, spooky curse magic messing with your mind, I’m sure it was harrowing. And/or enlightening. But I don’t have time for spooky magics; I’m a woman of SCIENCE! Speaking of, Clementine, where did you put that fungus?”

“On a table with similar looking specimens?” 

“Pardon me a moment.” She immediately stands and runs. We see a huge guard stomp toward the lab. Then flamethrower noises. There’s a bit of screaming. 

She emerges slightly scorched, fixing her coat. “That…was the wrong table. It’s cross contaminated! Well, I suppose that’s the cost of science. Sometimes, in order to make great discoveries, you must burn a table of samples before they kill you.”

“I’m sorry, I asked a grad student and he said put it anywhere, really!” Clem bluffs.

“Which one?” 

“....um, a short guy wearing a bird mask?

“Ah, Jean-Pierre, I know him. We will have words later. Never trust an entomologist, they’ve all got a head full of beetles or something. So! What’s next for you? I can’t say we have a ton of room here, but I’m sure we can try to find somewhere for you to stay...”

Valeria idly taps the clear bead on her earring chain. “Well, we DID promise to stay at the inn in town tonight...”

Ulmus hums discontentedly. “I trust the villagers precisely as far as my guards can throw them.”

Shoshana butts in. “Right? Okay, because the last time we stayed in a fungus person’s house I was RIGHT and it SUCKED.”

We go back and forth, deciding we’ll keep our promise but stay in the annex for dinner. A feast in Mushroom Town sounds...ominous.

Clem, determined, asks the professor if she can have a flamethrower. Sadly, it doesn’t matter how much Clem pleads her strength and skill, those had to be SPECIALLY REQUISITIONED from the ENGINEERING DEPARTMENT. She had to call in favors! Now if you’ll excuse her, she has work to do.

We have an early dinner, and then head to other side of river for the first time. The difference could not be more marked. If this wasn’t German old-growth forest, the other side would be a jungle (a fungus jungle? A fungle.); these are lush, rolling, well-tamed agricultural fields dotted with quaint farmhouses; rural but civilized. 

The “town” is a bare handful of buildings clustered around a small mill. A general store, the mill, the inn, a sheriff’s office, and that’s really it. Blacksmith. Handful of tradespeople. Pretty standard – these are people who live to support the surrounding farmers.

Not far from there we can see the Farmers’ Temple we heard about, a plain round wooden structure with large carved symbols for Rack, Torme, and Lethe. By Valeria’s standards, it’s the absolute bare minimum of what counts as a temple. “They’re trying, I appreciate that.”

As we travel into town, Valeria can see that the people on this side of river seem to fall firmly into 1 of 2 camps: some are incredibly healthy, almost overly large and well-fed, and very happy. The other half seems sickly. Not as bad as Mornheim, but we can easily sort people into Kinda Sickly or Big Healthy. There’s a lot of coughing. Perhaps the Medusoid Mycelium?!

It’s nearly sunset; we head down to the inn. There’s a couple of people sitting around the inn, farmers getting a drink after making deliveries to the mill. A friendly innkeeper named Aaron greets us. “Ah, you must be the people I’ve heard about!”

“Yes, Zelig told you about us?”

“Yeah, I’ve got some rooms prepped for ya. What brings you to town? We don’t get many of your type around – knights, or whatever you are.”

“Oh, we heard there’d been another Knight of the Rose around,” Shoshana probes.

“That’s what Zelig says, haven’t seen him.”

“Well, uh, thank you for your hospitality?”

We head upstairs, breaking into our usual pairs of roommates - Clem with Gral, Valeria with Shoshana, Aethis in the stables weirding out the horses.

Clem, the wary soldier, checks around to ensure the room is secure. She finds something! A note has been tucked into the mattress. “YOU ARE IN DANGER. COME DOWNSTAIRS AFTER THE SERVICES START AT THE TEMPLE.”

Huh.

She tells the rest of us. Everyone is like, “...yeah, we already knew that?” But it’s excellent news that not every villager is in on it.

There’s a knock on Clem’s door. A nervous young woman is standing there, holding a tray full of pastries. “Hey, uh. My dad wanted me to give you these. They’re leftover, they’d just go stale anyway.” 

“Oh, uh, thank you! Much obliged. Um, will that be all?”

“Try ‘em, at least take a look at them. They’re pretty good,” the girl tells her insistently, and scurries off.

Clem and Gral immediately inspect the pastries suspiciously. Pulling one apart - sure enough, there’s a note stuffed in a pastry! It says “CHECK UNDER THE BED.”

Under the bed, where Clem found the first note.

Gral pops down to the tavern area to get a few more deets from Aaron the innkeeper. Turns out temple services start after sundown. “You’ll know it, you’ll see people headin’ towards it. Why, you thinkin of attending?”

“We have a paladin with us, she’s always interested in the local religious customs.”

“It’s nothing you’d be interested in. More of a town hall meeting than anything.”

“I understand. Thank you for the pastries, they were absolutely delicious!”

“Oh, thanks kindly! Sleep well.”

Sure enough, as the sun sets we see lights in the dark as people start streaming in from across the valley to the Farmers’ Temple.

Once it looks like the last stragglers have made it into the service, Clem knocks on wall separating our rooms, as a signal, and we head downstairs. We try to be quiet about it. Aaron and his daughter are there, cloaked and ready for travel. His daughter has a hooded lantern in her hand.

“I don’t know what you people came here for, but you’re not gonna find it here,” whispers the innkeeper urgently. “You have to leave.”

“What kind of danger?”

“I keep my ears open. Zelig came back this morning, told some people about some outsiders, guests – told us to have rooms ready for them, and then stay out of their way when they came for you tonight. I don’t know how long we have – they always go to temple first, but the clock’s running. I don’t know you much, but you seem-“

“This has happened before?” Valeria breaks in, concerned.

“Not in so many words, but, yeah. People have gone missing. Last time we couldn’t do anything about it. We weren’t warned; they just showed up in the night. This time they were worried – there’s more of you, and better armed. Last time was just traveling merchants.”

Gral nods. "We came here looking to find what 'they' were planning at the troll moot. We don't just want to run away, but if you're in danger for housing us, that can wait. What's next?"

“The troll moot? Yeah that’s fishy, but I don’t know how to warn ‘em away. You folks seem connected, can you get word out about this place? But be discreet. I’ve heard stories about the Penitents, and I don’t want no part of that either. There’s still good people here. A lot of people in that temple there, though – I would have sworn they were good people too, until this all started. I’m not sure what it’s all about. We haven’t been going to services, and so far they haven’t forced us to. But they had folks posted in the inn, makin’ sure you showed up tonight. 

“You gotta get moving. Rebecca can get you to someplace safe. Slip out now, and finish leaving the valley tomorrow night.”

Clem insights ‘em, and then seem genuinely honest and concerned for us.

“Whatever this is, something about you guys has them spooked, so I wanna make sure you survive. There’s strange things afoot in Herzfeld these days.”

“Would they let you leave?” Valeria asks.

“I don’t wanna know what would happen if we tried. So far they’ve been content to let us keep running the inn, serving ‘em drinks.”

“How have you evaded their influence?” Clem asks suspiciously. “What makes you the exception?”

“Not everybody’s one of ‘em. The woman, Zelig, she came out of the woods a couple months ago after the other side of river fell. She started talkin’ to people, sayin’ she knew way to protect us. People were scared, ‘specially since the old cleric went over to the other side of the river and never came back. A bunch of people went down to the temple to hear her say her piece. 

“Those that went – not all of them came back. Afterwards, she started holding services regularly. Meetings, gatherings, whatever. Those that go, their crops flourish, they get strong and healthy. Those that don’t start to get sick. Their crops die. And once people start getting sick, everyone tells ‘em to go to temple and pray about it.”

I don’t know why Rebecca and I have managed to avoid the brunt of it so far.”

Rebecca pipes up. “I’ve snuck into the temple during day, it’s open to everyone. It seems fine mostly, bit run down – everything seems to be in place. But whatever’s going on there, it’s weird. The point is, I can take you to a safe place.”

Her dad nods. “I dunno where it is. Safer that way.”

Rebecca continues, her face too grim for her young age. “I’ve been smuggling people out of the valley. Mostly, people who oppose Zelig just vanish. Dad keeps the inn running and keeps his ears open. Anyone we suspect might be in danger, we get them out.”

Valeria considers. “We’re not going until we figure out what’s going on, but staying safe for tonight is not a bad idea.”

“I don’t know how long the service will go. It can be ten minutes, it can be an hour. We have to get moving, now.”

We hurriedly discuss: we want to know what happens at the mysterious services, but Valeria and Clem aren’t exactly built for stealth. Rebecca says that during the service itself, the town’s pretty deserted - everyone either goes in or stays well away.

We decide to split the party: Rebecca will take Team Clank to meet her friends at the safe house; Gral and Shoshana will sneak up to the temple.

 “I can’t tell you where safe house is; if you get captured, you’ll spill. Meet me at the top of hill there. I’ll be hiding in the bushes right by the old fence.”

The shadowy huntress and the subtle bard manage to get close without giving themselves away. Gral gets right up next to a window, and listens in, staying out of the window’s line of sight.

Zelig’s voice booms out, rich and strong: “Brothers, Sisters, we come to our next business. You have heard of the outsiders. They come, they question us. They question our ways, our motives. They endanger our sacred project with our brethren amongst the trolls. Do not fear, for we have a solution: I sense in them a great capacity for love and understanding. Tonight we shall find them, and give them a chance to join in our love. Should they not, should they hold hatred in their hearts, then those hearts may be hollowed and made ready for our love. Come brothers, come sisters, come family.”

Gral minor illusions the hue of the night sky onto his face, hoping it’s enough cover to peek in the window unnoticed.

“It is time. First, let us renew our bonds,” the old woman intones. Zelig stands in the center of the circular room. All the people around her are tall, strong, and glowing with health, crowded together, holding hands. Zelig taps a floorboard, and Hans and Frans solemnly move to pry up the board. 

Underneath is a lush green carpet of plant life. Fungus and vines creep out of the floorboard, growing at an impossible rate. Everyone stands as a wave of vegetable and fungal matter extends through temple, climbing up the worshippers’ legs and enveloping their bodies entirely. As Hans and Frans pull back the boards, a frame rises up; vines work their way into frame, forming a picture. Blooming flowers and different shades of leaves and lichen form the image of a female figure, motherly looking, bound in roots. Yet another tapestry?

The worshippers speak in eerie unison. “Though bound, she will be free. She is the growth. She is our love. She is protection. She will grow free of her bonds. We will grow as she does.” The chanting does not falter as the wave of plant matter entirely consumes the chamber. Gral ducks back under the window as the air chamber starts to fill with dense, cloudy spores.

He’s been relaying everything he sees to Shoshana with Message, and they both agree: We’ve seen what we can see, it’s time to get the hell out of here.

Meanwhile, Rebecca leads Valeria and Clem out of the town proper to a set of  rolling hills near an abandoned granary. There’s a cleverly hidden trapdoor set almost invisibly into the sod, leading down into a small network of caves.

“They used to use these caves to make cheese! Hmm...it should be this one tonight.” She bypasses several doors set into the earthy tunnels, stopping at one seemingly at random and knocking softly.

A voice on the other side whispers, “Who are you?”

 “One who seeks freedom,” Rebecca whispers back.

“And who are we?”

“The last Free Thieves!”

...What.

The door opens a crack, and Rebecca hurriedly herds the tanks through. “The guy in charge is the little guy. His name’s Henri Decannes. Him or one of his people will help you get out. I have to get your friends.” She runs back into night, vanishing into the darkness.

Valeria groans. She understands that stabbing Henri is not an appropriate action at this time, but dang would she enjoy it. And now she’s gonna have a DEBT to him? Maaaaaaaan.

As Gral begins to sneak back over to Shoshana, behind them, they hear the congregants start to move.

[cursewoodrecap]

The Hunt for the Teal Deer

Due to some changes in our player lineup, I figured our party’s newest member might want a tl;dr of the Campaign So Far without having to read the enormous bricks I put out on a highly irregular basis. HENCEFORTH, A SUMMARY. (Contains spoilers for stuff I haven’t properly recapped yet. I mean...I’m pretty sure this blog is mostly read by the players? But fair warning nonetheless.)

It’s still kind of a brick but here have a couple thousand words instead of fifty billion.

ARC 1: THE WITCH OF OVRUCH

Near the tiny Valdian trading village of Ovruch, four adventurers meet:

1. Kyr Valeria Argent, a paladin of the Order of the Rose, who is here to investigate a Beggar Knight going missing. Silver dragonborn Paladin, Oath of the Crown.

2. Sgt. Clementine Haxan, a former soldier of the Kevan empire turned soldier-of-fortune who is investigating a Beggar Knight going missing. Drow Fighter, Battlemaster.

3. Gral “Joybringer” Omokk’duu, an orc bard who serves Duke Shieldeater, here because he’s trying to recruit translators to help Orc/Valdia relations. Orc Bard, College of Whispers.

4. Shoshana bat Chaya, a local who’s been outcast from her village since a close run-in with the curse that left her with dark powers and a mildly inhuman appearance. Half-elf Sorcerer, Shadow Magic.

The three foreigners interrogate the young witch, who was interrogated yesterday by the Beggar Knight. They realize the Beggar Knight, Ser Balderich, went to investigate the place where Shoshana had her Curse accident. 

They are interrupted by the village being attacked by a group of bandits and wolves, led by a werewolf, who seem to want to capture Shoshana as some kind of Chosen One. They defeat the bandits and head into the woods to find Evil Wolf Guys HQ.

In the spooky dark ravine of Wolf Guys HQ, they find a) the imprisoned Ser Balderich, who they free; b) a shadowy nasty guy who has direwolves, who they beat up; and c) a trail of corpses and some diary fragments from a mysterious huntress who had been one of the evil-wolfguy leaders before she rebelled against them. The letters clearly indicate she had some kind of close relationship to Shoshana before Shit Went Down.

Shoshana is like, “alas, they shall believe I am forever tainted by evil magic and it’s only a matter of time until I turn evil, they’re probably going to execute me” and the rest of the party is like “wtf no we’re not gonna do that. Stop being emo.”

ARC 2: THE MISTS OF HOLZOG

The party heads to the town of Holzog to meet up with Ser Quentin Morozov, a Cursebreaker Knight who’s a friend of Ser Balderich’s. On the way, they meet Flynn and Fiona Fairgold, a dramatic, theatrical knight and his practical, mute sister. They also find out that in Holzog, strange mists come out of the lake every couple of weeks, filled with strange noises and creatures.

Gral recognizes that shit and tells his backstory: Duke Shieldeater’s son, Bullbreaker, led an expedition into the heart of the wood to try to defeat the Curse. Gral was part of Bullbreaker’s party. Strange, warped creatures seemed to appear out of nowhere and attack, and most of the orc battalion vanished into the mists, no bodies ever found. The takeaway: Gral believes that the Curse isn’t random; it’s coordinated and it has leaders and commanders.

Our investigations lead us to a former artists’ colony on an island in the lake. Turns out the artists had been tempted by some strange power to open a portal to a weird space between dimensions. The portal keeps closing and opening, causing the mists. Like idiots, we hurl ourselves into the portal, and find Weird Shit inside. Doors to other dimensions that are different story genres! Weird eyeballs everywhere!

We find out Gral’s old commander Bullbreaker has been lost in one of these other dimensions, and is trying to Samurai Jack his way home.

Most importantly we get some info: The Curse is caused by four entities, who are Prisoners. We’re unsure what imprisons them. We’ve figured out two so far: The Hunt, which is the werewolves and bandits and murder and stuff; and the Key, which is the pursuit of knowledge and the bending of reality. 

Anyway we escape and close the portal. Also we met some mad scientists from Sturmhearst University, which was fun.

ARC 3: THE DEAD OF MORNHEIM

Our Cursebreaker friend hires us to investigate why a squad of elven war veterans seemed to turn to the dark side while fighting the curse in Mornheim, a city which is experiencing a zombie apocalypse. Turns out the squad is Clem’s old unit! Drama!

Mornheim is really Tim Burtony. It used to be a place where undead could not rise, so everybody buried their dead there. And then the Curse happened, and now ALL the dead are rising. Welp, fuck.

We meet up with Lady Aubrey von Mornheim, Ser Balderich’s daughter (there’s family drama there), who gives us the inside scoop on the local lore.

We fight through the catacombs and investigate the old manor house. We find three important things: 1) Lady Aubrey’s mom, who’s haunting the shit out of the place; 2) a SECRET WIZARD LAB with a MYSTERIOUS SPELL SCROLL; and 3) some cultists.

The mysterious spell scroll, which is weirdly druid-y, seems to be a ritual for purifying a water source. The local lore implied that the undead curse began/stems from the source of the local river. HMM.

Meanwhile, there’s cultists, led by...A MEMBER OF CLEM’S OLD UNIT. One who she hates; she accuses him of getting their beloved Captain killed. He’s like “it’s cool we’re gonna bring her back from the dead!!! The Pale King says we will get eternal life if we serve him!!!” and Clem is like “okay that sounds terrible” and stabs him. We kick his wight ass and the ass of another of their squad, who “came back from the dead” but was actually possessed by a dybbuk, a malevolent spirit that takes over corpses and impersonates them.

Seems like this “Pale King” is Prisoner #3, in charge of Undead Shit.

We fight some other cultists and find an aaaancient corpse that indicates some kind of ancient collaboration between the old Aquilian Empire and the Valdians, which is a Fun Lore Mystery.

Clem’s old squad also has an assassination plot going against their former commander, who they hate.

Valeria the paladin really wants to do the spell scroll ritual to protect the town, but we need several rare plants as spell components. We decide to go to Bad Herzfeld, where we hear there’s lots of plants.

ARC 4: THE ROOTS OF BAD HERZFELD

Our concerns going into Bad Herzfeld:

1. We need spell component plants.

2. We know about this evil fungus that infects people and makes them into Evil Fungus Monsters.

3. We hear there’s about to be a huge gathering of trolls. Valdian trolls are generally peaceful, but, like. A fuckton of trolls + evil brain fungus that makes you evil = BAD.

We fight an evil circus, but that’s more of a side quest.

We get to Bad Herzfeld and it’s a jungle out there, folks. We manage to get all our spell components even though we have to fight various angry plantmonsters and hallucinogenic fungi. We also meet a very nice troll who is a Doctor for Trolls, he is one of our favorite NPCs.

We have a brief encounter with one of the reclusive druids who resides in the forest. The druids seem to be fighting the Curse as well, with sporadic guidance from the old gods of the Greatwood, but it turns out they don’t have many more answers than we do.

A former druid, however, has become the spiritual leader of the local farming community. Which is a problem because she has turned it into a cult that infects people with the Evil Fungus Spores. It’s a very “Insiders Good, Outsiders Evil” mindset. They are planning to wait until more trolls show up for the big troll gathering, then infect them all with fungus. This is Prisoner #4, The Growth.

We burn down their temple with extreme prejudice. Unfortunately, guarding the temple is a plantmonster that was once Valeria’s beloved mentor, Kyr Marius. We destroy him but it’s tragic.

The trolls are like, “oh evil fungus? Aight we’re out.” Also we met more of those mad science doctors, but botanist ones this time.

ARC 5: PENITENTS SUCK

On the way back to Mornheim we go through the crossroads trade stop of Three Oaks Junction, which has been taken over by Penitent Knights, who are very into inquisition, and self flagellation, and persecuting the hell out of anything that even blinks the wrong way. Sinners must be purged from among the faithful!!! Anyway they’re violent jerks and we free the town. Penitents suck.

ARC 6: THE TROLLSTONES

Back in Mornheim, we go to the source of the River Morn to do our fancy ritual. Turns out there’s an ancient troll-king buried there, who rose as an undead. His demigoddess mother blessed the waters there so that no undead would ever rise. That blessing is gone now, of course. Problem is, there’s ancient Aquilian ruins that indicate the blessing was later used as a Containment Zone for something super evil, and whatever evil thing was there has now escaped. Hella lore, though.

We do our fancy ritual, which doesn’t restore the No Undead blessing but does provide some protection for the citizens. Yaaay!

ARC 6: HOESKA

We jet off to Hoeska Castle, HQ of the Cursebreaker Knights, because we have hella knowledge about how the Curse works now and we should probably, like...let the experts know? Turns out Hoeska Castle is owned by an ancient vampire, who has teamed up with his longtime nemesis - the vampire hunter Ser Brigid Koenig, who is now trying to solve the dang curse and has founded the Cursebreakers. We share our information and also fight a big nasty wolfmonster who’s been eating the knights. There’s a professor from Sturmhearst the Mad Science University, who confides in us that the Dean keeps vanishing and leaving strange otherworldly gifts. Sounds like Key nonsense; we’d better go check it out!

Clem’s player decides to leave the campaign at this point; in-story, Clem has gone to prevent her former unit’s assassination plot while we confront threats closer to home.

~AND THAT’S WHAT YOU MISSED ON THE CURSEWOOD~