(Warlock!) The Sleep of the Sword, part 3

Having rescued the ranger from the white faced Unmen, the PCs returned to Beck’s Ford with him and to consult the witch. She used her herbal brews to heal everyone a bit and discussed with the Ranger that the re-manifestation of Varrock’s spirit at the Tower of Memory was probably the catalyst for the increase in Unman activity in the area. The PCs surmised that the spirit had been taken there by the twisted, one-eyed figure seen clutching a brass urn by the village idiot. The urn obviously contained the remains of the former general and the weird giant was taking him home. 

 So armed with the knowledge that the Great Bowl where the Tower was located was guarded by the Wyvern of the Wood, they set off into the forest once more. Planning this time to stop whatever was happening with the spirit of the Warlock’s former general. A ritual of some sort was the consensus. Entering the woods, they encountered a small, wizened being who had set out a stall in the bole of a lighting split tree. He claimed to be a word trader and some PCs parted with silver for the knowledge of particularly interesting words. Pushing further on they came to the Great Bowl. A desolate depression, where nothing grew opened out before them. In the centre was a rising spire of rock upon which a ruined fortress was situated. A rope bridge stretched from a great horse chestnut tree out to the fortress. Around the base of the tree is a huge, scarred, impossibly old serpent; the Wyvern of the Wood. 

 A long debate with the Wyvern (including freshly purchased words from the word trader) resulted in the PCs pledging to bring to justice thieves that had stolen past it and looted items from the Tower. So have negotiated their way past the huge serpent they crossed the rope bridge and entered the ruins. Rain poured, and thunder rumbled. By a stroke of luck a flash of lightning silhouetted a twisted being stood on a bridge of fallen masonry about to hurl a rock at the PCs. They joined battle with this creature and mortally wounded it. It revealed the urn containing Varrock’s ashes had been stolen by a townsman who smelled of ale and bitterness. Identifying this as the tavern keeper the PCs rushed back to Becks Ford, believing he was about to perform Some sort of ritual to summon the dead general’s spirit. 

 At the village it seemed all of the villagers had been invited to the innkeeper’s daughter’s birthday party at the inn. Everyone in the village was making their way there, lured by the promise of free ale. In the time honoured tradition of PCs everywhere they decided to sneak in the back. Passing Yestin, the village idiot, who proudly showed them the finished security precautions he had added to the inn. Locks to the shutters and bars on the outside of the doors, it looked like they were designed to keep people in rather than out! Inside they observed the taproom chairs had been arrayed in a circle and the inn-keep and his daughter were making some sort of celebratory speech. Believing something horrible was about to take place the PCs sprung into action upon the revelation that the inn-keep was carrying a concealed yet ornate dagger. Exposed, he plunged the dagger into the nearest villager causing smoke to spill from the urn as Varrock’s spirit began to manifest. A cloudy, dark mass of talons and eyes like burning coals. A big fight then ensued as the PCs simultaneously battled the evil spirit and tried to keep the innkeep and his daughter from sacrificing more villagers to it. Eventually though they killed the inkeep, vanquished the spirit and subdued tue daughter. There was no celebration. Instead it rained. Soaked and miserable, the villagers hung the daughter in grim silence. The PCs slipped away without ceremony, after all the Church Knights were on there trail and it was probably for the best if no one saw them leave.

(Warlock!) The Sleep of the Sword, part 2

The bloody Unmen

Alphonse, human noble

Jonas, human militiaman

Ogden, human bodyguard

Having captured the Miller they intimidated him in to revealing that he was indeed trading weapons for unusual silver but he didn’t know who the buyers were. He met them in the forest at night and they were cloaked and hooded. The characters arranged to hold him until his next trade and then follow him into the woods to observe it. 

Sure enough in a moonlit the Miller trade his boxes of weapons and bags of arrows with figures in voluminous, brown, hooded robes. The characters elected to follow these guys and discovered they were in fact the foul Unmen. Sorcerous hybrids of animal and man, cast off by whatever treacherous magician had engineered their creation. 

The Unmen had seemingly camped around a huge standing stone that they had defaced with obscene writings and abhorrent illustrations. The characters elected to try and pick off the Unmen sentries with missile fire but were unsuccessful. With the entire camp now roused to search for them a curious thing occurred. Another group of Unmen, white of face and daubed with red paints broke cover from a nearby hiding place and also began to flee. 

The PCs cleverly pitted these against a group of their pursuers and then followed the victorious White Faced Unmen back to their camp. All signs of pursuit had died away as the characters observed the White Faced Unmen feasting on roasted meats and drinking sloppily from horns of mead and wine. Also they had captured a weather-beaten looking man and strung him up from a tree in a cage made of wooden branches. Ogden was spotted by a revelling Unman but promptly shot him with his crossbow and luckily it seemed as if he had collapsed in a drunken stupor. This gave the characters an idea and they waited until the Unmen had revelled themselves to exhaustion before attempting to rescue the prisoner. 

They still engaged in a brief fight with the soberest of the white faced Unmen, whilst the others lay stultified with drink. Alphonse the disgraced nobleman was cut several times but the characters triumphed. They liberated the man who identified himself as Kaelin, the missing ranger from Back’s Ford, and the character’s made their way back to the village just as the Sun rose red in the east. An omen perhaps, the times of blood were upon them. 

(Warlock!) The Sleep of the Sword, part 1

Arts by yuriperkowski666

Samy, halfling bodyguard

Morben, elf agitator

Alphonse, human noble

Jonas, human militiaman

Ogden, human bodyguard

Whilst on the run from the Church Authorities, wanted for a crime they didn’t commit, this disparate group of itinerant undesirables came to the village of Beck’s Ford. Fleeing from the inflammatory so-called justice of the Church Knights they sought comfort from the dismal rain in the local inn. 

On the way to the village they encountered an abandoned cart. It came replete with bloodstains, damaged trade goods and a trail leading off into the nearby woods. A strange trail with multiple types of unusual footprints. Either it was Unmen , blasphemous hybrids of animal and man, or as the PCs surmised they had found a giant chicken. 

Passing this by to hopefully gain more information at the village, they headed straight to the inn. The packed tap room fell silent as they entered until they stated they meant no harm and did in fact have money. The inns occupants matched what they had seen outside. This was a downtrodden place. 

A quick chat with the mayor revealed that there had always been Unmen in this area as one of the Warlocks generals was from around here. His old fortress was located in the woods nearby, although he had been slain at the battle at Herne Hill. Lately though the numbers of Unmen had grown and with it their bravery. Soon no one would be safe. Apparently this had all escalated following the sighting of a twisted, hunchbacked, one eyed giant heading into the nearby woods. 

Alas the only eye witness to this was Yestin, the village idiot. Slightly on the paranoid side Yestin was located in the inn’s rear yard, where he had been working on adding additional security precautions. While Ogden and Jonas questioned Yestin the others remained in the bar and Owen the Miller bought them round after round of beers, regaling them with tales of his advanced milling techniques in exhaustive detail. 

Yestin stated he had in fact seen the twisted, hunchback and that he was clutching a brass urn. Also he noted that he was heading into the woods in the direction of the Great Bowl, a depression in the earth where nothing would grow. It became apparent that Yestin was a little paranoid believing that most inhabitants of the village would “stab you in the back as soon as look at you.” However he cast aspersions over the Miller’s apparent wealth and suggested the PCs also visit the witch, although not to trust her obviously. 

It was apparent that the dilapidated state of the actual windmill was incongruent with the Miller’s affluence so the PCs resolved to check him out further. After exhorting the mayor to put them up, he generously offered up the inn’s common room at no cost. Berthold the inn keeper was less enthusiastic, muttering about being under appreciated and that when he was successful everyone would rue treating with such casual disdain. 

Despite being quick drunk at the Miller’s expense the PCs agreed to stand watch and Samy the halfling heard and observed some suspicious activity around the windmill. Someone loading a cart in the middle of the night and driving it into the woods. 

Resolved to see the Miller and the witch despite their hang overs Alphonse and Ogden approached the front of the windmill to distract the miller while Jonas and Samy sneaked in the back for a look around. Morben the elf was mostly sick in the bushes, the fortified rosé proving too much for his delicate constitution. Despite making a racket while they broke in, Alphonse covered everyone’s tracks by leveraging the crippling social anxiety the Miller felt at being spoken to by an actual noble, even a disgraced one. Samy and Jonas rooted around inside the mill. Much of the workings appeared in a state of disrepair. It was unlikely the windmill would actually work as such despite the Miller’s claims to advanced  flour grinding techniques. What was definitely of interest was crates aid weapons and bags of arrows. Meanwhile the Miller was stating he believed the Unmen threat to be overstated and that it was the fear of the beastmen that was causing more problems than the creatures themselves. 

So armed with the knowledge that the Miller was definitely not on the straight and narrow they went to see the witch. The witch cast the bones and consulted the spirits of many small things. She concluded a darkness had returned to the forest and if was not held in check could spread over the whole kingdom. She prophecies plagues of Unmen and rivers of blood. They asked if she could see the Warlock but she refused “That way lies madness and death.” To which Samy the halfling responded “Our business is madness and death.” 

They resolved to expose the miller’s dodgy dealings. Theories ranged from him selling weapons to the Unmen to simply being some sort of arms dealer. However when ex millitiaman Jonas gave his best “cop knock” on the front door of the mill, the miller fled out the back. Samy and Morben were waiting for him and Samy punched him square in the ankle with her knuckle duster while Morben tries to intimidate him into submission by passive aggressively flinging flower petals at him or some other elf nonsense. Anyway, it failed but he was incapacitated by the halfling’s super low blow. 

Next session they’re going to haul him off to the inn and expose his nefarious non-milling activities.