Rise of The Runelords: Varisia's Angels

Full Boar
Gifts, Hunts, Fatherly Advice & Bad House Guests.


Clearing out the last shattered bones, Sheriff Hemlock returns to the garrison and we decide to follow the tracks. Leading over and beyond the outer wall we head out the Northern gate into the Tickwood. Happening across the staging for the raid we discover that more than a score must have survived and proceed with great caution…
The lush woods make tracking easy, even for us, trailing in and out the woodline and up the Lost Coast Road. We mark the site where our prey splits into smaller groups with a stone cairn, and follow the humanoid’s trail until, rather disappointingly it goes cold… Perhaps our villain is an accomplished scout? Returning to Sandpoint we report our findings to Hemlock who seems perplexed that more than one tribe of a usually quarrelsome race are involved.

Our mission complete we attend the reconsecration of the Cathedral. I make a prayer of thanks to Iomedae for the company that has literally kept me alive since my arrival and we approach Brother Zantos to offer our assistance. Athene proves rather… Inquisitorial but the good natured and obviously preoccupied cleric instead offers to lunch with us tomorrow and answer all her questions then. Back at The Rusty Dragon we are joined by the noble Aldern Foxglove, who offers to take us hunting boar tomorrow. Though I still find his manner a little… disconcerting, perhaps I have misjudged this fellow…

Sure enough, Foxglove’s entourage awaits us the following day. We are a little embarrassed by Foxglove’s assumption we had our own mounts and even more so when he offers to buy them for us! Whilst not uncommon, or dishonorable for questing knights to accept such gifts but I am unpracticed in how to deal with such generosity. But, it is a gesture of thanks and any discomfort is quelled by the beautiful chestnut gelding I discover and certainly less unsettling than the named collection of goblin ears nailed to the livery doors. I am hardly squeamish, but I’m not sure I approve of such trophies… even from filth like green skins…

My ears prick up as we head into the Tickwood when Athene mentions infamous Cheliax… But we quickly return to the matter at hand when we find a perfect clearing and Foxgloves drummers disappear into the undergrowth, driving game before them. Mad and Foxglove stay clear, while Athene and I set our spears. We wait patiently for a few hours before a great beast, red beady eyes and long curved tusks comes crashing through brush towards us.
I salute the wild boar and it charges. I set my spear but the wily creature steps aside and hits me full force. I reel backwards thrusting again as Athene closes in with her spear, but groggy I miss again and the creatures crashes into me…
I awake… again to find Athene standing over me, my wounds this time beyond her powers to heal, but the boar is skewered with Athene’s spear and stinking of acid.

We return, my ego bruised as much as body, with just time enough to clean myself up before meeting Father Zantos. We have a pleasant meal, Zantos healing my wounds and speaking at length about the ‘Recent Unpleasantness’; a series of murders by ‘The chopper’ who was eventually hunted down and killed by the now Sheriff hemlock; and the destruction of the Cathedral.
As Zantos leaves, Foxglove returns, just in time for Ameiko to wheel out the beast we slew today and Athene rightfully takes the heroes portion. Perhaps it is unseemly but I take some satisfaction in gorging on the monster that nearly killed me… Perhaps I am not unlike the stableman after all…

The night is full of further surprises when Ameiko’s father, whom we first mistake for some mad vagrant enters and berates her and then us… She gives as good as she gets and he leaves, disowning her, I suspect not for the first time; I am thankful my father is forged from purer metal.
Then a distraught young woman enters with her son seeking our help. Her husband is missing and the boy speaks of nightmares filled with Goblins. We attend what is a brief but sad business, arriving to discover that her son’s nightmares were indeed real a solitary Goblin left over from the raid having set up a nest in her son’s bedroom. It is not difficult to sense out the evil creature and we made short work of it… Though too late to save her husband. We cover up his gnawed remains and return with the grim news.
I must admit that it has been an eventful day if not all to the good.


The Boneyard Massacre
Shared Purpose, Tomb Raiders & Skeletal Sentinels.

We awake after Goblin Night (as the locals have already began calling it) to a certain celebrity. I have always been uncomfortable with praise and instead I keep to my meal, which is quite enjoyable if certainly different to what I’m use to.
I learn a little about the veiled woman Athene who is an Inquisitor of a holy martial order and the elfmaiden Mahdlaran who seems ever perplexed by humanity (a sentiment I share since I beginning my journey west).
It appears we are each hear on a personal mission of such, seeking a person or place, with the vaguest understanding of the reasons why. A little embarrasses to do so but concerned what trials this day might bring I ask Athene if she can help me with my wounds. It appears that she is indeed a healer and the rejuvenating effects of her prayers are similar to what I’m used to from my brother clerics back home.

Mopping up the scraps we are joined by Sheriff Hemlock who after thanking us, requests our further assistance. I am pleased to lend a hand if someone is taking this threat seriously and so to it appears are my new companions. We are escorted to The Boneyard, (a local cemetery) where it appears that grave robbers have been at work. Humanoid and goblin tracks lead into a small crypt for those who perished in the previous cathedral fire… An omen that does not bode well…

Normally I would enter boldly, weapons bared but I’m confused by this new hierarchy I belong too. I am use to a chain of command and it appears that I am now one of three equals.
We prepare to enter when the ever surprising Mahd reveals a large scorpion sending it in and scout the tomb. Is it an eleven pet or perhaps a familiar? The tiny creature scuttles in and Mahd is immediately alarmed!
Then I can feel it too, a certain evil presence… We wrench the door open to reveal two animated skeletal forms with sickly yellow claws and hollow eye sockets…
I have heard many stories of the undead but never faced them before.

The exchange is short for me, they prove surprisingly resilient and deft, our edged weapons fairing poorly against their unnatural forms. I awake again, to the divine ministrations of Athene. It appears that Hemlock dragged me from the fray while Athene and Mahd fought on and destroyed them.
We search the crypt for clues uncovering only a strange cloak capable of summoning skeletal minions; it’s dark powers thankfully drained. The most interesting fact is what’s missing- The remains of the Cathedral’s previous head priest.
This gets worse..


Goblin Night
Festivities, Prophecies, Allies and Goblin Raiders.


I arrive in cosmopolitan Sandpoint around midday to find families, visitors and vendors busy with the Swallowtail Festival. With accommodations closed until nightfall, I reluctantly join the throng when I am called over by an old Varisian fortune teller called Mishka.
From her Harrow Deck I draw the Trumpeter, Inquisitor and Peacock, all meaningless until she explains their significance to me and to my plight. I had not put much stock in visions and destiny until recently and this leaves me reeling a little. I press her for more but she refuses so I cross her palm with silver and leave her hungry, weary and (I’m ashamed to admit) a little perturbed.

Joining the crowd again I find myself deposited, like driftwood on the shore, at the foot of a mighty cathedral which appears to be the focus of these celebrations. The church though dedicated to Desna supports all denominations and stands on the site of a previous one destroyed a few years ago. The mayor and other nobles officiate atop a platform and tell a haughty story of its rebirth. As I prepare to move on, cries erupt on the outskirts of the assembled crowd… screams…. dogs barking and the unmistakable smell of smoke…

Surely not the cathedral again? The square clears, and I shake of my fatigue, stashing my pack and ready sword and shield. A few stragglers remain as the menace is revealed- Goblins! But I am not alone; a veiled woman with a wide brimmed hat, long cloak and (a little surprisingly) a great-sword and a lithe elfmaiden in robes with a longbow.

The veiled woman orders the townsfolk to shelter, as she and the elf form up against the greenskins who sing a terrible song as they pour into the square. The veiled woman, a divine agent of some sort, appears quiet effective with her sword while the elf woman proves to be a wizard.
I rush to intercept a second group, led by a whip-wielding War-chanter, pushing a burning cart and intent on razing the cathedral. Amidst a volley of arrows and spells I lay about my enemies, halt the process of the mobile pyre and slay it’s drivers, flipping the blazing wagon over to prevent reinforcements from finishing the job.

Despite my wounds we three sweep the streets, arriving in the Northern quarter. There, a great brute astride a Goblin dog leads another raiding party on the heals of some nobleman. I charge in and smite the monster, killing him outright and giving the fleeing man time to reach a nearby Inn and safety.

We fight on against the survivors, and though I take grievous wounds we vanquish our foes. The town guard mop up the last of the bandits and three people approach looking harried if relieved; the Mayor, Sheriff and the owner of the tavern opposite; The Rusty Dragon. All appreciative of our efforts, the Taverner, a Tian called Ameiko offers us free accommodations; which exhausted and sorely injured I (along with my companions) readily accept.


Paladin's Path
Burnt Offerings

Journal-01-Silva.jpg Here on the road at my small campfire I begin this Journal.
I hope that my reflections can provide me with valuable lessons as I discover the world and perhaps myself. At the very least it should provide the Holy Citadel of Light some insight as to the circumstances of my death should I befall tragedy on the road.

These grim tidings aside, I set out out on my overland journey from Vigil, Lastwall in high spirits; memories of my fathers pride sustaining me through hard roads and ill weather. I won’t lie, there were days I wished I’d spent my douri on a horse, but I believe I’ve put my wealth to better use on a kit and arsenal that should serve whatever my predicament. I experienced few true hardships, even a few people along the way.



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