Session 131 Whispers in the pass: Difference between revisions
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|session_date=28 March 2025 | |session_date=28 March 2025 | ||
|game_date=Evening, CY627 | |game_date=Evening, CY627 | ||
|synopsis= | |synopsis=While investigating strange occurrences on a mountain pass, the party stumbles upon a secretive caravan and the nervous locals connected to it. | ||
|summary= | |summary= | ||
Mourn | ====Mourn enters the Temple==== | ||
Within the echoing silence of the temple, Mourn faced his unseen adversary. He invoked a protective aura, a shimmering shield of light against the encroaching darkness, and stepped forward, beginning a solemn purification ritual. But from the very blood staining the cracked stone, a malevolent form began to coalesce. Shadow clung to shadow, rising and solidifying into a cloudy, shrouded creature with hungry, malevolent red eyes fixed on Mourn. | |||
As the purification ritual continued, the shadowy entity lunged, its spectral claws raking against Mourn's protective aura. A shriek of rage and pain tore from the creature as its long, tendril-like arms swept through the barrier, briefly striking Mourn before his swift counterattack. His sword, a silvered arc in the dim light, found its mark, and the creature dissolved, its essence seeping back into the bloodied floor. | |||
Moments later, the oppressive atmosphere of the temple vanished. Mourn found himself standing in a quiet hallway. He noticed the heavy wooden door at the far end stood slightly ajar, a sliver of darkness beckoning. As he approached, a blast of frigid air, carrying the scent of the mountain valley, washed over him. | |||
====Whispers on the Wind==== | |||
The | Meanwhile, the rest of the party began their descent down the treacherous cliffside path. The wind howled through the crags, its echoes playing tricks on their senses. To Aldran, it seemed to carry the faint strains of a summoning spell, a distant murmur on the breeze. Balmaris, Durmen, and Egon each perceived subtly different variations of the sounds – chanting in archaic tongues, whispers like wind rustling through brittle parchment. Egon, in particular, heard the echoing cries of an unfamiliar beast, carried on the gusts. | ||
Balmaris detected a faint metallic hum, a subtle vibration in the air that hinted at some kind of temporal energy, though its source remained elusive. For German, the experience was more physical than auditory, a high-pitched tone that seemed to vibrate deep within his bones, a deeply unsettling sensation. | |||
====Temporal Echoes and a Tumbling Fall==== | |||
Their journey down the cliffside grew more arduous as a cold, biting wind picked up, swirling with a light snow that dusted the already treacherous patches on the trail. Above the wind's mournful cry, they heard their names called out. Nail, with surprising agility, traversed the perilous path between the cliff edge and the mountainside, his form a fleeting shadow as he moved with rapid, practiced ease. | |||
But as Nail bounded past, a sudden misstep sent Balmaris’s feet out from under him. With a strangled cry, he lost his footing and began sliding uncontrollably down the icy path. He accelerated with alarming speed, his tumbling form narrowly missing the rest of the party, who scrambled to avoid being swept off their feet. Once Ego regained his footing and surpassing the desire to speak a curse upon both Nail and Balmaris, he strikes upon the idea to cast water walk and hopefully avoid further falls. (Inspiration point) few harrowing minutes later, winded but miraculously unscathed, they all arrived at the base of the mountain. | |||
====The Garrison of Oakhaven==== | |||
The party reached the village of [[Oakhaven]] just after nightfall. The dim light revealed a few villagers hastily loading crates onto a waiting wagon, overseen by a single guard who seemed remarkably bored by the activity. Further into the village, they barely discerned a few other guards standing before the stables, their gestures and hushed tones suggesting preparations for departure. | |||
Aldran, ever the inquisitive one, strode up to the lone guard, surprising him with a rapid-fire barrage of questions. Taken aback, the guard divulged that the small garrison was preparing to escort a convoy over the mountain pass to the village of Morden, some eighteen miles distant. When asked about their nocturnal travel, the guard explained that a local tribe of barbarians, fearing the creatures of the night, preferred to raid during daylight. Thus, transporting goods under the cover of darkness was considered relatively safer. | |||
At this point, the guard’s eyes narrowed as he noticed Aldran’s uncanny resemblance to some of the local tribespeople. A nervous hand instinctively went to the hilt of his sword. But before the tension could escalate, the rest of the party arrived, and the relieved guard quickly directed them towards the welcoming lights and sounds of the tavern, where food and lodging awaited. | |||
====An Odd Cargo==== | |||
While Aldran kept the guard occupied, Durmen and German discreetly observed the wagon. A faint aura of magic emanated from it, a subtle shimmer in the dim light. Neither Durmen, Balmaris, nor Egon could pinpoint the exact nature of the enchantment, only that it bore the distinct signatures of transmutation and abjuration magic. Their investigation was cut short by the return of two villagers, who finished loading another heavy crate. The party watched as the villagers secured the small building from which the crates seemed to originate and then hurried towards the tavern, clearly eager to escape the biting wind and the watchful eyes of the guard. | |||
====Pepe's Roadside Fare==== | |||
As the party moved towards the center of the village, the enticing aroma of roasting meat wafted through the cold air. A small roadside vendor, his stall marked by a crudely painted sign reading "Pepe's," was smoking a savory mix that smelled like bear and venison. While they scanned the area for the proprietor, Balmaris noticed the surrounding buildings. They appeared to be constructed with materials and techniques from a bygone era, yet, oddly, they seemed brand new, untouched by time. Across the street, the boisterous sounds of revelry spilled from the open doors of [[The Crag and Kettle]] tavern. With the weather worsening and the snow falling more heavily, they gratefully stepped into the tavern's warm embrace. | |||
====Arms Dealers in Disguise?==== | |||
Shaking off the clinging cold, [[Borin]], the burly tavern keeper, eyed their unusual attire and unfamiliar accents with suspicion. He declared their gold worthless, claiming he didn't recognize the mint. However, when Balmaris and Durmen patiently pointed out the undeniable gleam of the precious metal, Borin relented, accepting their payment and providing a welcome meal and strong drinks. | |||
They soon learned that the guards were employed by the merchant guild of Lynn, tasked with protecting shipments destined for the South Wind Trading Company, which operated through the perilous mountain valley. Borin mentioned he was expecting one more caravan to arrive near midnight, after which he looked forward to some much-needed rest. The villagers, Borin explained, held no particular fondness for either the guards or the merchants, but they paid well and generally avoided trouble. Furthermore, these groups were often seeking additional sellswords to bolster their caravan protection – a piece of information that immediately piqued the party’s interest. They decided to return to the wagon and the remaining townsfolk to inquire further. | |||
====A Swift Departure and a Locked Warehouse==== | |||
However, upon returning, the party found the wagon gone. Fresh tracks in the newly fallen snow clearly indicated a northward heading. Durmen, his curiosity piqued by the magical aura, decided to take a look inside the warehouse. But the heavy wooden door was secured with a stout iron padlock. Undeterred, Durmen brought his ax down with a decisive swing, the lock yielding instantly to the critical blow. | |||
Peering into the darkness, their eyes gradually adjusted, revealing another dozen crates neatly stacked along the west wall. Beside a simple cot, a few ledger books lay open on a dusty desk. But they were unprepared for the sight of an elderly woman slowly rising from the cot. She looked at them with suspicion, her voice raspy as she remarked, "You don't look like representatives of the Merchant Guild. You need to leave now, before someone catches you here." Her nervousness was palpable as she began to shoo them towards the door, her eyes darting around the dimly lit space. | |||
|key_npcs= | |||
[[Borin]] | |||
[[Elara]] | |||
}} | }} | ||
Latest revision as of 06:53, 11 April 2025
Session Details[edit source]
| Session Date: | 28 March 2025 |
|---|---|
| Game Date: | Evening, CY627 |
Session Summary[edit source]
Synopsis[edit source]
While investigating strange occurrences on a mountain pass, the party stumbles upon a secretive caravan and the nervous locals connected to it.
This Session[edit source]
Mourn enters the Temple
Within the echoing silence of the temple, Mourn faced his unseen adversary. He invoked a protective aura, a shimmering shield of light against the encroaching darkness, and stepped forward, beginning a solemn purification ritual. But from the very blood staining the cracked stone, a malevolent form began to coalesce. Shadow clung to shadow, rising and solidifying into a cloudy, shrouded creature with hungry, malevolent red eyes fixed on Mourn.
As the purification ritual continued, the shadowy entity lunged, its spectral claws raking against Mourn's protective aura. A shriek of rage and pain tore from the creature as its long, tendril-like arms swept through the barrier, briefly striking Mourn before his swift counterattack. His sword, a silvered arc in the dim light, found its mark, and the creature dissolved, its essence seeping back into the bloodied floor.
Moments later, the oppressive atmosphere of the temple vanished. Mourn found himself standing in a quiet hallway. He noticed the heavy wooden door at the far end stood slightly ajar, a sliver of darkness beckoning. As he approached, a blast of frigid air, carrying the scent of the mountain valley, washed over him.
Whispers on the Wind
Meanwhile, the rest of the party began their descent down the treacherous cliffside path. The wind howled through the crags, its echoes playing tricks on their senses. To Aldran, it seemed to carry the faint strains of a summoning spell, a distant murmur on the breeze. Balmaris, Durmen, and Egon each perceived subtly different variations of the sounds – chanting in archaic tongues, whispers like wind rustling through brittle parchment. Egon, in particular, heard the echoing cries of an unfamiliar beast, carried on the gusts.
Balmaris detected a faint metallic hum, a subtle vibration in the air that hinted at some kind of temporal energy, though its source remained elusive. For German, the experience was more physical than auditory, a high-pitched tone that seemed to vibrate deep within his bones, a deeply unsettling sensation.
Temporal Echoes and a Tumbling Fall
Their journey down the cliffside grew more arduous as a cold, biting wind picked up, swirling with a light snow that dusted the already treacherous patches on the trail. Above the wind's mournful cry, they heard their names called out. Nail, with surprising agility, traversed the perilous path between the cliff edge and the mountainside, his form a fleeting shadow as he moved with rapid, practiced ease.
But as Nail bounded past, a sudden misstep sent Balmaris’s feet out from under him. With a strangled cry, he lost his footing and began sliding uncontrollably down the icy path. He accelerated with alarming speed, his tumbling form narrowly missing the rest of the party, who scrambled to avoid being swept off their feet. Once Ego regained his footing and surpassing the desire to speak a curse upon both Nail and Balmaris, he strikes upon the idea to cast water walk and hopefully avoid further falls. (Inspiration point) few harrowing minutes later, winded but miraculously unscathed, they all arrived at the base of the mountain.
The Garrison of Oakhaven
The party reached the village of Oakhaven just after nightfall. The dim light revealed a few villagers hastily loading crates onto a waiting wagon, overseen by a single guard who seemed remarkably bored by the activity. Further into the village, they barely discerned a few other guards standing before the stables, their gestures and hushed tones suggesting preparations for departure.
Aldran, ever the inquisitive one, strode up to the lone guard, surprising him with a rapid-fire barrage of questions. Taken aback, the guard divulged that the small garrison was preparing to escort a convoy over the mountain pass to the village of Morden, some eighteen miles distant. When asked about their nocturnal travel, the guard explained that a local tribe of barbarians, fearing the creatures of the night, preferred to raid during daylight. Thus, transporting goods under the cover of darkness was considered relatively safer.
At this point, the guard’s eyes narrowed as he noticed Aldran’s uncanny resemblance to some of the local tribespeople. A nervous hand instinctively went to the hilt of his sword. But before the tension could escalate, the rest of the party arrived, and the relieved guard quickly directed them towards the welcoming lights and sounds of the tavern, where food and lodging awaited.
An Odd Cargo
While Aldran kept the guard occupied, Durmen and German discreetly observed the wagon. A faint aura of magic emanated from it, a subtle shimmer in the dim light. Neither Durmen, Balmaris, nor Egon could pinpoint the exact nature of the enchantment, only that it bore the distinct signatures of transmutation and abjuration magic. Their investigation was cut short by the return of two villagers, who finished loading another heavy crate. The party watched as the villagers secured the small building from which the crates seemed to originate and then hurried towards the tavern, clearly eager to escape the biting wind and the watchful eyes of the guard.
Pepe's Roadside Fare
As the party moved towards the center of the village, the enticing aroma of roasting meat wafted through the cold air. A small roadside vendor, his stall marked by a crudely painted sign reading "Pepe's," was smoking a savory mix that smelled like bear and venison. While they scanned the area for the proprietor, Balmaris noticed the surrounding buildings. They appeared to be constructed with materials and techniques from a bygone era, yet, oddly, they seemed brand new, untouched by time. Across the street, the boisterous sounds of revelry spilled from the open doors of The Crag and Kettle tavern. With the weather worsening and the snow falling more heavily, they gratefully stepped into the tavern's warm embrace.
Arms Dealers in Disguise?
Shaking off the clinging cold, Borin, the burly tavern keeper, eyed their unusual attire and unfamiliar accents with suspicion. He declared their gold worthless, claiming he didn't recognize the mint. However, when Balmaris and Durmen patiently pointed out the undeniable gleam of the precious metal, Borin relented, accepting their payment and providing a welcome meal and strong drinks.
They soon learned that the guards were employed by the merchant guild of Lynn, tasked with protecting shipments destined for the South Wind Trading Company, which operated through the perilous mountain valley. Borin mentioned he was expecting one more caravan to arrive near midnight, after which he looked forward to some much-needed rest. The villagers, Borin explained, held no particular fondness for either the guards or the merchants, but they paid well and generally avoided trouble. Furthermore, these groups were often seeking additional sellswords to bolster their caravan protection – a piece of information that immediately piqued the party’s interest. They decided to return to the wagon and the remaining townsfolk to inquire further.
A Swift Departure and a Locked Warehouse
However, upon returning, the party found the wagon gone. Fresh tracks in the newly fallen snow clearly indicated a northward heading. Durmen, his curiosity piqued by the magical aura, decided to take a look inside the warehouse. But the heavy wooden door was secured with a stout iron padlock. Undeterred, Durmen brought his ax down with a decisive swing, the lock yielding instantly to the critical blow.
Peering into the darkness, their eyes gradually adjusted, revealing another dozen crates neatly stacked along the west wall. Beside a simple cot, a few ledger books lay open on a dusty desk. But they were unprepared for the sight of an elderly woman slowly rising from the cot. She looked at them with suspicion, her voice raspy as she remarked, "You don't look like representatives of the Merchant Guild. You need to leave now, before someone catches you here." Her nervousness was palpable as she began to shoo them towards the door, her eyes darting around the dimly lit space.
Session Results[edit source]
Experience[edit source]
The running tally of XP earned is found on the Party Experience page.
Treasure[edit source]
Tasks or Quests[edit source]
List of tasks or quests undertaken.
Rumors or Intelligence Gained[edit source]
Apparently nothing noteworthy this session...
NPC's of Note[edit source]