#and are being used to win some money while the captors investigate them

[nelkcats]

Poison

Two new types of poison started being sold in Gotham's underworld; one is bright pink and the other a toxic green, both of which have caused the Batfamily a major headache because no one can find a cure or a reason why it suddenly started being sold.

Unfortunately, many of their Rogues have been using it for their attacks and this product has proven to be deadly.

It tends to act immediately on contact with an individual and cause extreme pain (some have commented that they feel like dying), as well as being effective on everyone it comes in contact with (including mutants, metas, and aliens) and not possessing an antidote. Bruce has tried to analyze it on many occasions but the batcomputer never comes up with results, as if the product is corrupted.

Strangely, it was recently discovered that Jason has immunity, and contrary to expectations, the poison seems to make him stronger? it even affects the influence of the pits!

This, of course, did not please the vigilante, the color of one of the poisons was too familiar for him to pass up so he decided to seek its source directly. Unlike Bruce, who was dedicated to the search for an antidote, Jason felt there was something darker about the whole situation, so he decided to track down the vendors and follow them.

Elsewhere, two halfas look at each other wearily as needles pierced their skin, it's a bit ironic that they let their guard down when the Fenton's declared they liked ghosts and forgot they had other enemies.

[bicount-de-lettenhove]

Escaping is Overrated - Part 1

Life on the Continent sucks balls if you're not a Mighty Witcher, and Jaskier learns the hard way just how inhospitable it can be when he finds himself on the run from Nilfgaard.

-----

okay so I'm a big fan of stories where there isn't necessarily a big bad antagonist, but where a character (say, a humble bard) instead ends up suffering because of shitty circumstances. If you are also a fan, please read on for a story which is essentially a list of shittier and shittier circumstances befalling our humble bard. There will eventually be a happy ending!

CWs: graphic torture/gore, fire

Jaskier wakes groggily from a dream, groaning aloud as dim confusion gives way to the stomach-dropping realisation that the previous week has in fact been real. He lies still while a wave of nausea rolls over him, dread and fear - his constant companions - settling into the pit of his stomach. Then he hauls himself upright, though it makes no difference to his view because the cell they’re keeping him in is pitch black, the light of the moon in the small barred window obscured by thick clouds. He’s been drifting in and out of restless sleep for several days and though he can’t remember the precise details of his dream, the ache of disappointment and humiliation he feels now is enough to hazard a guess as to which silver-haired-prick was involved.

He’s been dreaming about Geralt a lot, recently. And not the lust-filled fantasies he’d enjoyed when they were on the path together; his recent dreams don’t take him outside the stone boundary of his cell, and are decidedly less enjoyable. They start well - like a good ballad where our mighty hero comes to rescue his damsel in distress - with shouting and the clashing of weapons - and then suddenly Geralt appears, silhouetted in the doorway of Jaskier’s cell, looking down at him. And then he speaks, his low rumbling voice so familiar and so welcome, and all Jaskier’s pain and fear vanishes because Geralt is right there, and he’s come for him. But then - every time - Geralt mutters something, and he starts to turn away, and when Jaskier realises he’s leaving he starts to panic, trying to push himself up from the floor on his broken hands. He opens the wounds on his back with his straining while he babbles frantic, pathetic apologies and begs the witcher to come back, begs Geralt not to leave him here - and then - an excruciating eternity later - Geralt rounds the corner and he’s gone. The final insult is that the cell door is always open - freedom so tantalisingly close - but Jaskier’s strength is gone and there’s nothing he can do but lie on the hard floor of his cell, humiliated, rejected, and utterly alone. Jaskier isn’t the superstitious type, and he wouldn’t normally read much into dreams, but even he can guess the message in that one: Geralt has gone, he’s not interested. You’ll have to get yourself out of this mess. Jaskier carefully doesn’t analyse the ending of the dream, in which he fails impressively at doing just that.

He drops his head back against the wall, avoiding leaning on the mass of sticky wetness under his shirt that had - yesterday, and before the overzealous application of a bullwhip tied with shards of something sharp - been his shoulders and upper back. Though he hasn’t had the courage to investigate the extent of the damage he can feel that it isn’t good. He’ll have to find some way to cover the open wounds or it’ll get infected and he’ll be no use to anyone. He snorts quietly to himself as he realises how naively optimistic that is. If he was of any use to his captors they would be making an effort to keep him alive. As it is, he hasn’t even been fed. He’s just as useless as a hostage - he thinks - as he is useless as a friend. And - now - useless as a bard. He thinks about his broken hands, resting in his lap, and even though he can’t see the damage in the darkness he can feel it, the thumbs crushed and broken by the slow press of iron and the sickening gap where the smallest finger on his right should be.

He shuts his eyes tight as unwanted memories come flooding back - of the two brutish men holding him down, one leaning so hard on his arm on the table to keep it in place that he feared the bones might break. His desperate peering round the man’s great bulk to see what was going to happen. His frantic writhing and bucking when he saw not the screw but the double blades of shears, his panicked screams, his begging - not his hands - please anything but his hands - he didn’t know anything - he didn’t have any information - please no - his realisation as he felt the cold of the metal around his finger that it didn’t matter what he said, that this was really going to happen. His blind panic continuing despite that. The press of the metal into flesh and the simple physics by which his skin gave way. His howling and crying as the shears crunched sickeningly through the joint. The white hot, throbbing pain that didn’t abate as the man stood up - still holding Jaskier’s finger - and turned to him, waving it like a fat child who’d found a worm. His vomiting down himself, delirious with pain. The man’s lifting his head up by the hair and growling in his ear. One a day until he gives them what they want. Being picked up. Dragged back to his cell. The lock of the door and footsteps walking away, curling into himself, around his broken hands, and sobbing.

Jaskier is roused by the sounds of shouts and running feet. Like the start of a good ballad where our mighty hero comes to rescue his damsel in distress, he thinks, blearily. He stays still as he always does in the dream, waiting for the outline of the witcher to appear in the doorway. It’s light outside this time, he notices absently. That’s a first. There’s still no sign of Geralt, and the shouts are now beginning to resolve themselves into something recognisable: panicked cries of FIRE! Somewhere in the halls, someone is frantically ringing a bell. Suddenly, Jaskier can hear footsteps in the corridor outside and he cries out with the little strength he can muster, praying to all the gods that someone will hear him and unlock the door. The footsteps stop and then with a clang, the bolt flies back and the cell door is opened to reveal a silhouette which is distinctly not Geralt. Jaskier’s soft heart drops minutely before he realises he is still Being Rescued, and falls slightly in love with the bent, scrawny figure in the doorway. But as he opens his mouth to thank the man - a fellow prisoner by the looks of it - he turns on his heel and runs off. Well, thinks Jaskier, maybe not Being Rescued exactly, but still - escaping!

The adrenaline coursing through his veins helps him to his feet, his legs shaking and weak, and he stumbles out of his cell, only to be hit by a man running down the corridor, knocking him back into the wall. Pushing himself upright once more, Jaskier turns to look in the direction from which he’d come. There is, indeed, a fire. The floor is covered with loose rushes like a stable, providing perfect fuel for the fire which is rushing along the stone passage with terrifying speed. Jaskier can feel the heat on his face, even from many paces away, and thick black smoke is licking at the walls and pooling on the ceiling. Panicking, he turns and flees, blindly following the man who’d run into him - a guard by his appearance, but clearly not loyal enough to try and stop escaping prisoners at risk to his own life. He follows him down a labyrinth of passages, the smoke getting thicker and blacker and more choking, Jaskier’s run becoming more of a desperate stumble, until he loses the guard completely. His eyes stream and his throat burns with each gasping breath. Distantly remembering how smoke settles on the roof like water in a pool, he drops to the floor. As he takes grateful gulps of the slightly clearer air, a familiar shape in the corner of his vision catches his eye. To his surprise, Jaskier recognises the curved body of his lute. He remembers this room, when they’d first hauled him here, where they stripped him of his belongings and he’d got a punch in the stomach for his indignant protests. Keeping his head low but rising once more onto his feet, he stumbles towards his lute and pack and hefts them into the crook of his elbows. He knows that from here it can only be a few paces to freedom, but by Melitele’s sacred tits they’re difficult paces. He’s bent double, blind, coughing and retching so hard he can’t catch a breath, his legs threatening to collapse at every step. But then - without warning - he’s outside, in the bright sunlight and the clean, fresh air. Finally then, he does collapse - first to his knees, then folding forward into a very dignified position he thinks of as ‘face down, arse up’. His lute is still pressed tightly to his chest, pack crushed underneath her, and he lies there gratefully, coughing and retching weakly into the grass, for what feels like an eternity. Eventually - though his heart tells him to stay right there and never move again - the small voice of reason in his head wins out and he realises he will have to move, before he’s captured again. He raises his head and sees, to his relief, a nearby path that leads into thick woodland, and he begins to form a plan. Maybe he will be the one to get himself out of this mess after all. First he’ll follow the path, then once he’s far enough into the woods to be hidden he’ll leave it and find somewhere secluded to clean and bandage up his wounds. He’ll rest and regain strength and then he’ll make his way on to rejoin civilization, triumphant and brave and self-sufficient. That’s as far as the plan goes. His thumbs are throbbing with every beat of his heart after his exertion and he pushes down the question of how he’ll ever make money as a bard who can barely play. One problem at a time. He steels himself, then pushes up onto his knees - blinking as he rides out the wave of vertigo - and then to standing, and begins to stumble towards the darkness of the woods.

-------

yikes, sorry Jaskier.

Thanks for reading! 🧡🧡 Chapter 2 is on the way, but if you want more accidental bard whump in the meantime, check out another fic of mine here, in which Jaskier tries to make his way down the mountain after the dragon hunt, gets lost, and proceeds to make all the worst survival decisions.

Also another note: I haven't written the ending of this fic yet, apart from Geralt Helps And Is Sorry TM. If anyone has any suggestions of favourite Geralt-saves-Jaskier tropes please drop me a reply because I have been stuck at the same point for about a week now 🧡

Part 2 is now avaliable!

[themidnightfarmer]

We need a heR(I)O || Orion & Jared

Timing: This week

Location: Car park in town

Tagging: @3starsquinn & @themidnightfarmer

Description: A deal gone wrong and Jared needs a hero.

Triggers: none i think? (lemme know if i’m wrong)

The insanity of the week before had lessened significantly, but had not ceased just yet. This is why Jared had a lot on his mind when he pulled up into the parking lot near to midnight. Not being totally focused on what he was doing turned into a new nightmare however. The dealer let out a yelp and dropped the cage, where Jared’s reflexes were too slow. The creature inside snapped at their former captor before making a break for it. Having already handed over the cash, the nymph was abandoned by the handler. And now it was up to Jared to round up the beast. The shriken took off like a shot. Small enough only just to shoot between the nymphs legs. And in other circumstances he’d have let it go, he always considered most beasts best left to be wild after all. But this particular shiriken had only been caught due to having been stolen early from it’s nest. It was still a juvenile, dangerous but small. And without the protection of its parents, Jared wasn’t confident it wouldn’t be hunted for its feathers. The creature was distraught enough to deny Jareds attempted connection completely. Unfortunately for the person who rounded the corner, the creature took a major dislike to them. All Jared could do was call out. “WATCH IT!”

Orion was on the mend. His ribs felt a lot better from where they had the week before, the wrist brace was off, the swelling had gone down in his cheek. Sure, his face was still all bruised, but the pain had mostly subsided by that point. Physically, Rio was almost back to normal. Mentally, well, Rio couldn’t stop thinking about the troll. Had that really been the only option he had left? It didn’t matter now, he supposed. It was too late to take back what had happened. What he had done. All he could do now was focus on moving on and moving forward. Try to do some good to balance out the evil. First order of business, investigate the noise that Rio heard. Late at night, the parking lot should have been mostly empty. But the sound of yelling voices and… something else was enough to peak Rio’s curiosity. He took a detour from his path home, creeping around the building that led to the parking lot. His side ached, as if protesting Rio’s choice to creep back into danger. Still, he moved forward, too stubborn to risk someone dying because he didn’t try to intervene. He had only just turned the corner when something plowed into him, knocking him off his feet and onto the hard pavement. Whatever the creature was, it wasn’t done with Rio yet. He stayed on top of his nipping towards his face. Rio flailed around, using his arms to cover his face.

The face that appeared around the corner was not one Jared recognised, at least not with a formal introduction and a name given. They seemed vaguely familiar, but he didn’t have time to dwell on that as he watched the shriken knocked the kid over. Even at half the size it would be fully grown, the shriken was still big enough and dangerous enough to be concerned. Having had no time to make the connection he would have liked with the beast, the nymph could only be thankful that the birdlike creature didn’t have access to it’s usual weapon. No spare branches around the parking lot. He had nothing he needed to seal with the creature and the poor kid was doing his best to cover himself from the pecking. Jared was glad of another thing, the beak of the shriken was not sharp until allowed to sharpen in the making of their weapons. And this one having been in captivity from very young, if the kid kept their eyes covered gashes would heal. “Roll over!” he called to the other figure, while he skirted around the two wondering the best angle to dive in at for the best grip. “ROLL OVER NOW!” he only wished the other could hear him over the screeching of the beast.

If Orion hadn’t been so busy protecting his face from the bird’s attack, maybe he could have pulled the thing off of him. This thing was clearly supernatural and stronger than an average bird, but Rio’s hunter strength should have been more than enough. But as things were, he risked serious damage if he moved his arms away. And if he reacted without knowing his surroundings, he risked hurting the creature. The pecking stuck, tearing into his sleeves and stabbing at his skin. Someone was yelling something? He couldn’t hone in on the words at first, but then he was yelling them louder. Roll over now. Duh. Why hadn’t Rio thought of that? He complied, flipping over onto his back and moving his hands to cover the back of his hands. The pecking caught at his fingers and moved down to his back before it finally stopped. Rio stayed on the ground for a moment, processing what had just happened. Finally, he peaked his head up from the ground and realized that the bird was no longer there. He pushed himself up, catching the eye of the guy that had told him to roll over. “What was that?” Rio asked, staring at his bloodied hands and torn sleeves. He needed to be careful to keep that skin covered. “We need to catch it before someone hurts it.” 

The nymph wanted to help the guy on the ground, but didn’t want to risk hurting the beast and have it growing emotionally further from him. The creature found less flesh to attack once the kid had rolled over and lost interest quickly. At this point also Jared was torn. To chase the shriken down was what he desperately wanted to do, but he had a duty also to check on the boy and make sure he wasn’t too injured. He need not have worried however as, when the bird took off, the other person instantly looked at him. “I uh...don’t know exactly.” Jared answered vaguely. Not wanting to let on that he knew anything right away, Despite being caught handing over money for the thing. He paused for a single moment only. Before wholeheartedly agreeing to the help. “We catch it alive right? No damage, I’m not about damaging animals. Are your arms okay bud?” The nymph extended an arm of his own to help him off the ground. “You promise we won’t try and hurt this one right?” It was a low blow, and jared tried to word it in the nicest way he could. Promise binding was tricky and he was a complete novice at it despite being fae himself. He left it as closed and simple as he could. This one referred to only this particular being, given that Jared knew self defence at some point living in this town was inevitable and did not want to strip that away from the guy. And he also left room for accidents. Sometimes accidents happened, if they hurt it somehow he wanted it to be minor and not detrimental. Those were the nicest conditions he could think of.

Once the man had helped Orion off of the ground, he started asking if Rio was okay. “Me? Yeah. No worries. I’ll be fine.” The knicks on his hands and arms stung, but they’d heal eventually. He wasn’t thrilled about the blood on his hands again. It only reminded him of the trolls. This guy was pretty serious about not hurting the bird, clearly. “Oh yeah, of course I promise! I wouldn’t hurt that thing. It was scared. And it’s going to either get hurt or hurt someone else.” Rio explained, wiping the excess blood onto his jeans. He really liked these jeans too. Rio took a deep breath and paused for a minute, trying to focus out his hearing. It wasn’t something that he was very good at yet, but the bird had been making a lot of noises. It shouldn’t be too hard to hone into the sounds. He focused out until he finally heard it. “Bingo!” Rio called out accidentally, before correcting himself, “Uh- I mean. I’m pretty sure it went this way. Let’s go!” Rio took off in the direction of the sound, hoping they weren’t going to be too late.

The other took so easily to the promise Jared couldn't help but spare him a smile. Either not aware of the dangers of making promises, which worked well for Jared, or the other was simply on his side with this. Either option was a win in the nymphs book. He couldn’t sense anything from the kid, so he wasn’t fae at least. But he kept his options open for something else as they seemed to focus on breathing. Jared was dumb enough to not recognise the pause as anything but a human desire to collect himself before they gave chase to the creature. He took that moment himself to attempt to reach out, make a tentative connection with the shriken but it was too shaken up and too far away for that initial bond he tried to make with all his charges. No luck. Although that couldn’t be said for the other guy. He was off like a shot and Jared stumbled to a start behind him. “I’m Jared.” he introduced as they pelted down the stairs of the parking lot and onto the street.

Running was easy for Orion. Besides his clumsiness, Rio was incredibly fast and the hunter in him lent to increased stamina. He couldn’t go as long as some other hunters that were actually in shape, like Adam or his sister. But Rio could book it if he needed to. Right now, Rio was caught between trying to chase down this bird and wanting to make sure he didn’t leave behind the guy that may or may not know something about the creature they were after. Why else would he be chasing the thing down in a parking lot at midnight if he didn’t know something about it? The guy introduced himself, Jared, and Rio spun around, running backwards for a few seconds to wave at the guy, “Orion! I go by Rio.” He tripped over something in the road and nearly fell over, flailing his arms out widely before he corrected himself. “Do you know anything about this bird thing?” Rio yelled over his shoulder. He tried not to phrase it like an accusation. More, a query. Another peak in the sound of the bird and Rio shifted, moving to turn a corner sharply and losing footing. His leg slid out from under him and he caught the ground with his hands and pushed back off to continue running down the alley, “This way!”

Jared’s senses might not be as good as that of the hunter, but he was indeed much faster than a human. And yet he also slowed his gate, trying to perpetuate the image he put forward. He was human as far as anyone was concerned and that is the way he’d like the perception to stay. The name given however finally sparked that familiarity in Jareds mind. This was RIO. This was the kid Winston lived with and had kissed recently. Jared cursed being such a recluse a lot of the time. He’d heard loads about Orion, but introductions had forever been pushed back due to some crisis or another. “Orion. Rio. Winston has talked about you.” He replied carefully. The nymph opened his mouth to respond to the inquiry about the shriken but the sound turned into an aborted sort of yelp as Rio slid on the ground. The recovery was so impressive, Jared had slowed to help him up before he’d even registered that Rio was still running. “I know some!” he admitted in a moment of confusion as he tried to catch up. The shriken could be spotted above the next corner streetlamp, juvenile and not quite fully fledged enough to carry itself far in the air. “Just make sure it doesn’t lift anything from the ground that it can use!” he advised.

The urgency of the situation was slightly lost on Orion when he heard Winston’s name. He decided against turning around this time, his balance far too unstable for that. But he did slow down, “You know Winston?” There was a certain level of admiration if Rio’s voice as he spoke. If Jared was a friend of Winston’s, sure he was a trustworthy person? Since there seemed to be a close circle of friendship between the people that Winston knew, Rio wondered if that meant Jared knew Blanche and Nell or any others in town. “They’re the best aren’t they?” Rio grinned, but shook it off to get back to the topic at hand. “Lift anything from the ground? What does that me-“ Rio’s words died off in his mouth and he slowed to a stop as the bird hopped across the ground inspecting the area. It finally landed on a large branch, scooping it up in its claws and turning back towards the two of them. “Oh. So that’s what you mean.” Rio spoke, trying to sound nonchalant despite the tremor betraying him. “That’s a smart bird.” At least there hadn’t been anything crazy lying on the ground like a sword. Or a gun. Could that thing pull a trigger? Rio wouldn’t even be surprised. 

“Known Winston since they were in school.” Jared confirmed, catching up as Rio slowed. The reaction warmed his heart however, the tone Orion took when speaking about Winston, matched well with the compliment given so freely. “They are.”  The nymph was a hopeless romantic and it gave him hope that perhaps the panic their friend had been having over that kiss was all for nothing. A smile crossed his lips at the thought, but that didn’t last long as the shriken had found a weapon. “It’s cool, it’s a-okay. He’s young, and has yet to learn to sharpen it’s weapons. Plus it has no time. We’re all good. Just uh…..don’t get hit and let's try to take that branch off of him first yeah?” Jared voiced as soothing as he could manage. This paired with the more vague plan he’d ever put together. This being a fact only due to the reality that Jared was not known for plans. He was best known for doing something and then regretting it almost instantly. Thinking things through was definitely not a strong suit of his. He glanced at the other and gave Rio a sheepish sort of shrug and half smile. “Sound uh...good?”

Orion listened to Jared as he talked about the bird, but Rio couldn’t pry his eyes off of the bird to actually look over at Jared. “Sharpen it? That’s great. They know how to sharpen things. That’s um... handy.” Rio let out a single, nervous laugh. Rio had just been owned by a troll the work before. He really didn’t love the idea of being impaled by a bird this week. “Right. Just take the branch away. Seems easy enough.” Rio took in the surroundings. It was dark, nothing by the dim glow of the street lamp the bird stood beneath giving any light. That didn’t effect Rio’s eyesight, but he couldn’t say the same for Jared or the bird. Assuming Jared was a human, he may not be able to see much. This would be easier if Rio knew something about the creature. A weakness or something he could do to help capture it. “Well it really doesn’t seem to like me. I think our best course of action is me playing bait and you can grab it?” He turned to Jared, returning Jared’s smile and adding a thumbs up. What could go wrong?

The moment to play dumb was not this one Jared decided. Anything he could supply Rio in the ways of information would need to be imparted before they got into this. “It’s called a shriken, it seems young, it’s beak hasn’t been sharpened fully so it definitely hasn’t fledged yet. This works with us,” he started to rattle off quickly before the boy jumped into something he wasn’t ready for. “Grabbing for the middle of the branch would be safest as it’s unlikely to want to peck at you when it has the advantage of the stick.” He cringed then. “I’ll try to get my hands on it quickly. And hopefully with as little damage to Orion as he could manage. It was all about speed at this point. 

A shriken. Some type of supernatural-esque bird, no doubt. Orion had skimmed through a couple of bestiaries that the Scribrary held. He wondered if he had ever passed by the name without realizing it. His expertise surely wasn’t in supernatural creatures that weren’t sentient. Sometimes, when faced with stuff like this Rio wasn’t convinced that his expertise was in anything at all. He still felt so clueless about this world. But Rio couldn’t dwell on that right now. All he could do was nod along to Jared and begin slowly walking towards the bird. He tried moving faster, but his body was holding him back. He wasn’t thrilled about the idea of getting attacked by it again. His hands and arms still stung from the first time it had attacked him. “Hey birdy birdy birdy” Rio waved at the creature, still inching towards it. He flinched if the bird made even the smallest of movements. His hood was up, as if the thin piece of fabric would protect his head in any way should the bird stab his stick at it. Finally, the bird leapt forward and Rio crumpled to the ground.The branch slammed into his side, reigniting a pain in his ribs that he thought had mostly healed by this point. He reached out to grab onto it, but the bird had already moved on, scraping the branch across his arm and pulling it towards his face. Rio ducked down, flailing his arms wildly in an attempt to catch onto something. Clearly that wasn’t working. So Rio took the risk, pulling his head up to get a better view. He really hoped that the bird didn’t stab him in the eye or something, that’d be bad. He finally noticed the bird swinging towards his leg and reached out and caught onto the branch. He readjusted, grabbing at the center of the branch and then holding on for dear life.

Rio had some serious courage. To face up against a creature like this after it had already taken a disliking to you was admirable. Jared was stuck in place for a moment just watching the crazy kid aggravate the bird in order to gain it’s full attention. “Absolute madman.” Jared mumbled to himself before starting to skirt very quietly around to behind the bird. He watched over the birds head as Rio took a little bit of a beating and vowed to apologise to him some time later. Once the skriken had been caught and deposited carefully at the farm or at least somewhere well out of the way of town. As soon as Rio had a hold of the branch, Jared leapt forward. He braced himself and crossed his arms over the birds beak. It took all his strength and he was a nymph with a lot more than a human and all. But the touch did the trick. As soon as he had skin to feather contact he felt his connection bleed into the creature. The connection didn’t guarantee the bird would listen to him, but it would calm it’s attack for long enough to at least figure out what to do next to contain it for transport. He whispered apologies to the bird as it was forced to let go of it’s branch and allow Rio to take it away. “Okay okay, cool cool cool cool. Uh…” Jared was stuck. He’d left his truck back in the parking lot. And with how agitated and angry the shriken was he wasn't sure it would calm enough in Orion's presence to be walked there. He was stuck. “Can you drive?”

Orion held onto the branch like his life depended on it, until finally the weight of the bird lifted. Rio froze, taking a moment before glancing up to see Jared holding onto the bird. Rio sighed in relief and sat up, “Ow,” was all that Rio said as he once again worked to brush dirt off of his hoodie and try to fix the hair that the bird had pulled at. He had no idea what made the shriken hate him so much, but he wasn’t about to risk trying to get it’s affection now. Rio was still in the middle of catching his breath when Jared asked if Rio could drive. “No.” He answered simply, before changing his answer and diving deeper, “I mean yes. Technically I have my driver’s license. But I don’t have a car right now. It’s a long story but for now I’ve mostly been walking or taking a lyft places.” Rio shrugged, as if this was all fine. The town wasn’t that big anyways. It took another long moment before Rio finally realized that Jared did not care whether or not he had a car. “Ohhhhhhh.” Rio drew the word out far longer than it needed to be, “You weren’t asking about my car. You just want to know if I can drive.” Sometimes Rio really felt like he was incredibly dumb for supposedly being so academically gifted. “Uh- yes. I can drive.” 

It would have been funny. It would have been incredibly funny and endearing for rio to go off on the tangent that he had. It would have been...had Jared been in any other position than he was right then. He could only spare a strained smile for the rambling words, but then he needed action. “My truck is back in the carpark. Keys in the ignition. Could you pull it around? You’re quick as hell, could you do it like...now? And uh….don’t steal my truck please?” As much as he’d heard of Orion from Winston, that didn’t mean the kid wasn’t practically a stranger. But a stranger he was going to take a chance on. 

Orion kept nodding. For every word Jared spoke, Rio just nodded and nodded. Until finally he realized that he was supposed to go. Like now. Right. Rio waved off to Jared and then skipped before darting off toward the parking lot. He wasn’t waiting for anybody this time, so he ran as quickly as could. It wasn’t a far distance so he wasn’t worried about saving energy. He just wanted to get to the truck as quickly as possible. He split the corner, bumping against the brick of the alleyway building on his way around. It threw him off balance and he stumbled in the road, but kept going. He reached the steps and leapt up them, skipping multiple at a time. Luckily, the late hour meant that the parking lot had been relatively empty and Jared’s truck was easy to pick out. He was thankful that he had driven Ricky’s truck before, or this would have really freaked him out. Okay admittedly this did still freak him out. Driving someone else’s car was weird. He struggled between driving as humanly slow as possible to avoid crashing and needing to move quickly to get back to Jared. At least it wasn’t a far drive. He slowly pulled up near Jared when he got back to them. The bird was still in hand. That was a good thing at least. He hopped out of the driver seat, leaving the door open. “Okay. Here we go. See? I wasn’t gonna steal your truck!” 

While Orion was gone, Jared started to whisper to the shriken. Trying to explain himself as best he could, about how it would be free to go as soon as he’d given it a once over and taken it to a safe distance from the town eye. The calm of the bird grew as Jared mumbled to it, reassurances finally making their way through the connection between the nymph and his charge. Jared had no double however that as soon as he spotted his truck the bird would rile itself up again at the appearance of the ‘branch stealer’. Something about the kid setting off alarm bells in the creature that Jared couldn’t quite grasp. Arms crossed firmly, pinning the beak of the shriken to its body as carefully as he could Jared shot Rio a smile. “Thanks. I already have my tractor away for repairs, riding into town on horseback is only fun if it’s not raining or midnight.” Jared shuffled himself and the creature towards the truck and nodded in the back. “Could you pass me that fabric? I’ll cover its wings and we can be off...do uh...thanks for the help. Do you need dropped off anywhere?”

Orion couldn’t be sure why this shriken hated him so much. As far as he was aware, there weren’t any supernatural creatures that could sense hunters. Not that he agreed with what hunters did, but the genes were still there. Maybe the bird really just didn’t like Rio for whatever reason. Until he had pulled up, the bird had seemed relatively calm in Jared’s arms. Rio stuffed his hands inside his pockets and side stepped away from the truck so that Jared could get the bird in without risking the bird hopping free to try to murder Rio again. He laughed at joke about the horseback before realizing that it had been said fairly monotone. “Wait… do you really do that? Ride into town on horseback?” Rio nodded his head, trying to picture it before mumbling, ���That’s so cool.” Rio tried not to get too close, leaning his body forward to grab the fabric and toss it over to Jared without too much disruption. When Jared offered a ride, Rio waved it away. “Oh uh no problem. And don’t worry about it. I don’t need to stress that bird out anymore than I already have. It’s not that far of a walk home. I was walking there before all this anyways.” He shrugged and waved shyly before stuffing his hands back in his pockets, “Uh nice meeting you though! Hopefully you can get that bird thing somewhere safe.” How did Jared know so much about a supernatural bird? Clearly now wasn’t the time to ask, but it was definitely something he’d have to ask eventually.

[thecomicsnexus]

The Unmentionables

TEENAGE MUTANT NINJA TURTLES #14 MAY 1988 BY KEVIN EASTMAN AND ERIC TALBOT

SYNOPSIS (FROM TURTLEPEDIA)

Casey Jones is patrolling the sleepy streets of Northampton, Massachusetts looking for some crimes to prevent. Northampton is nothing like New York City, however, so the mighty Casey is occupying his spare time as a vigilante by narrating events as if he were Mike Hammer. Jones is a little homesick for the Big Apple, but he's also reminiscing about the good times he had in this town as a kid with his cousin Sid. As Casey walks familiar ground, he passes by Louie's Variety store and is stunned by what he sees... the brass cow that once served as a rooftop landmark for the business has been stolen! Jones is enraged and gets to work on the case right away.

As Casey interviews Louie for details, a local cop walks in and assures the shopkeeper that the theft was probably just a college prank and that the cow will show up soon. Casey gets angry about the police officer's blase attitude, which only angers the cop, who tells Jones to "Butt out—pronto!" Casey storms off, vowing to find the cow.

The following morning, we find April frantically getting ready for work and asking where Casey is. Just then Casey walks through the door, icicles hanging from his hat and chin. Jones moans that he's been out all night looking for "the great cow" and collapses. Fortunately it's nothing serious, and Casey tries to explain about the theft, but April is running late and hurries off to work.

Cut to the Blue Bonnet Diner, where April is waiting tables. As Ms. O'Neil is going through her stubs, she overhears two men plotting something about a cow. One of the men slaps the other and tells him that if he has any info he should leave it at the front desk of Hotel Northampton, room 213. April is suspicious and tries to remember where she heard about a cow earlier in the day when she sees the newspaper headlines—the top story is about the missing cow!

Back at the farm house, Casey is trying to get the disinterested Turtles to help him when April calls. O'Neil tells Jones about the conversation she overheard, but unfortunately the man who slapped his partner overhears April's phone conversation and becomes alarmed. Casey takes down the hotel information and slams the phone down in his excitement over having a lead. April is unhappy because she wanted to go along.

Casey gets to the hotel and tries to get the woman at the front desk to tell him who's in room 213, but all he manages to do is get thrown out of the joint. As Jones sits on the stoop outside wondering what to do next, April arrives. April thinks she can have better luck getting the information, and she goes inside. As Fate would have it, just as O'Neil gets into the lobby, the slapping man (whose name is Howard) walks through with another fellow. April overhears the two making plans. Apparently Howard works for the older Texan man and they're making elaborate plans for a graduation party.

Later that night, April, Casey and the turtles arrive at the parking lot of the Hotel Northampton. Casey has asked the turtles to search room 213, and while the guys aren't happy about doing it, they agree. Jones and O'Neil crash the posh graduation party inside.

The Turtles find a bunch of paperwork and photographs of the Texan, Howard and the Brass Cow—however, they also discover they're in room 215—the wrong place!

As April is prowling the party looking for clues, she's spotted by Howard. O'Neil darts out into the lobby, where she's accosted by three men, Mikal Smengie and his brothers Luka and Luka. Unfortunately April has stumbled into a rendezvous between the Smengie Brothers and the Texan... a ten million dollar meeting that they all want to keep secret. Howard gags April and tells the Brothers to take her with them. Howard also give Mikal a briefcase full of money and an address. The Texan complains about loose ends and Howard says that he'll take care of things.

Back in the hotel room, the turtles decide that this case is too complicated and the police need to be notified. As they head out, they see April being kidnapped. The guys scramble down to the parking lot, but they're too late to stop the van holding their friend from escaping. The Turtles pile into their truck and head off to chase the van.

Casey goes into a rest room inside the hotel to gather his thoughts. He sits on top of a toilet in an empty stall as two guys come in. Jones overhears the two talking about a "prize cow" at Norman Whitty's place on Route 116. After the men leave, Casey dashes out to the parking lot to get his truck so he can investigate... except the truck is gone! Undaunted, Casey hails a cab.

Meanwhile the Turtles have followed the van to an old garage in the woods. Inside are the three brothers carrying weapons, a bound April and a well wrapped cow. As April berates her captors and warns them that she has friends, the Turtles burst in and kick the shell outta the Smengies. Once the Brothers are tied to a post, the Turtles interrogate them. The men talk to one another in Slovakian, which angers Raph and he threatens them. Under duress, Mikal explains that the brass cow was stolen from his family by their other brother Louie before the revolution. They've returned to steal the brass cow back and to sell it to Mr. Cudworth, who collects antique cows. April finds the story dubious, as ten million dollars is involved. Raph gets even angrier and decides to bash the cow to bits. Mikal then panics and exclaims that the cow is solid gold, and that they had stolen it before the revolution so that the new dictator wouldn't be able to use its wealth. They now want to sell it and share the wealth with their people.

Leo is suspicious, but he wants to see how things will play out before calling the police. In particular, Leonardo is interested in the Texan's role in these events. Leo hatches a plan that will allow them to get the real story.

Back at the hotel, the Texan receives a phone call from Leonardo, who tells the rich man that the deal goes down tonight and that they want an additional 5 million dollars. This does not please the Texan but he gathers up his forces and heads out.

Meanwhile, Casey has arrived at Norman's place on Route 116 in the taxi. Casey is jubilant about finding the cow and heads into the barn with glee—only to discover that the cow inside is real! Just then, Norman shows up with a shotgun and yells at Casey to get away from his prize winning heifer. Jones fast talks his way out of things and piles back into the cab, ordering the very unhappy driver to take him back to the hotel.

Back at the Smengie garage, the Turtles are all decked out in trench coats and firearms, awaiting their meeting with the Texan. The men show up and the Turtles demand the money. Howard asks where the Smengie Brothers are and the Texan demands to see the cow. Mike unwraps the cow only to reveal that it's a fake! As tempers flare, the Smengies crash through the garage door in a flatbed truck, with the real "brass" cow chained to the bed. A short fire fight erupts between the Texan's men and the Turtles, but the millionaire and his henchmen take off to chase the Smengies. The turtles pile into their own truck and bolt out in hot pursuit.

As the Smengie's truck barrels down the road, they pass Casey's cab. Jones grabs the wheel of the car and spins it around. The driver is scared to death and Casey screams at him to "follow that cow!" The cab gains on the truck and Casey jumps out onto the hood of the taxi and leaps onto the cow. Jones causes Mikal to crash the vehicle into a ditch and shouts, "You pukes are under arrest!"

Just then the Texan shows up, and Howard yells, "Correction! You're all under arrest!" As the millionaire wonders what's going on, Howard explains that he's an undercover secret service agent. It turns out that the Texan (whose name isn't Cudworth, it's actually Emil Bruzeniak) is in the business of buying and selling stolen national treasures. Howard has been working for Bruzeniak for two years, waiting to build enough evidence to bust him. Howard calls in his backup and two helicopters appear. The turtles and April arrive on the scene. The turtles bail out of the truck as April drives up to see what's going on.

When April arrives, Howard wants to hear why she and Casey are involved in the case. Jones explains everything in long detail and Howard demands to talk to the four men who helped April escape. April tells the secret agent that her allies wish to remain anonymous and pleads that they all be let go, as everything turned out fine. The agent begrudgingly admits that Casey and April helped solve the case and agrees to forget about their friends' involvement, filing it under "unmentionables." Casey and April walk off arm in arm as the criminals are lead off in handcuffs.

The turtles have witnessed everything from the safety of the woods.

REVIEW

This may not feel like a TMNT story for the most part, but it has been kind of adapted into TV. Because the story is centered around Casey and April, the Turtles are once more, on the side of the story.

On the other hand, April and Casey have been on the side themselves as well since they left New York, so it is nice to explore these characters. And it’s only one issue, no one will be hurt.

I now appreciate (absent) Laird’s rounded style, but I cannot complain, as the art is stunningly good. It even feels a bit experimental at times. And there is something about Eastman drawing cities... I just love them. He makes cities look real and cartooney at the same time.

I give the issue a score of 7

[cursewoodrecap]

Session 18: The Trollstones

It’s time for LORE.

Before we head out to our next adventure, we obviously have to go shopping. Clem buys a bunch of liquors and mixers, to test out the Boozenomicon we found at the artist house. Gral gets himself a “phat outfit makeover.” Shoshana and Clem buy something out of the back of a caravan called Old Badgerbeard’s Fine Valdian Liquor, guaranteed to add +2 to any Taint save by remindin’ ya of the simple joys in life.

Shoshana spends a little time playing translator and introducing people to the couple of orcish outriders who are gonna stick around. (“This is K’evin, he likes long walks on the beach and mah-jongg…”)

Anyway: we’ve just saved a town from people who hate parties, so naturally it is time to roll on the carousing table. Valeria finds a group of people to teach her favorite game, Man-go, and proceeds to lose 25 gold gambling against “complete newbies.” Clem wins a suspiciously similar amount at gambling, and can neither confirm nor deny that the noob hustling Valeria is just her in a fake mustache. Gral and the outriders teach a few orcish games, and Gral handily cleans everyone out by channeling the spirit of an experienced gambler. Bard Poker ain’t for amateurs, y’all.

Shoshana, still getting used to having more money than her entire village combined, buys a couple of drinks for some folks…then gives some cash to some needy travelers…and then the word gets out she’s giving out free money, and she has to use her Shadow Powers to gtfo before she’s swarmed. Whoops!

In the morning, Clem sends a letter back to her caravan, saying hi and updating them on the latest news. It’ll probably arrive alongside the original package, but that’s fine.

We head out and spend an uneventful journey retracing our steps to Mornheim. We notice Old Lady Jolene has moved out; the cottage stands empty and abandoned. Before long, the trees begin to take on that distinct skeletal cast and the skies begin to dim. We get that familiar sensation of the life draining away from the land. The birds stop chirping, except for the harsh caw of carrion birds. Flies cease to buzz. The air takes on the dusty, dry smell of grave dirt as we once again approach the necropolis Mornheim.

The hastily assembled walls of the town rise up before us. A few people are out working the orchards, with sentries posted to keep an eye out for the dead.

(There’s a wooden sign posted: “NO DEAD PEOPLE. This means you, Frank.” This sign won’t stop Frank because Frank can’t read! It’s posted on the end of a shovel, probably for hitting Frank when he comes back around again.)

Kyr Crabber is on duty when we show up, leading some repairs on the walls. “Oh hey, yer back!” He hauls the gates open for us. “Where’d you go? Heard you were going off to get some medicine. Want me to get the doc?”

Valeria shifts awkwardly. “Um…I’ll tell her myself?”

“So you’re not delivering meds, then.”

“Uh, it’s a magic thing. Don’t worry about it. How’s the town?”

He lets us deflect. “We got hit hard last night, and the Penitents didn’t show. Some sort of super-ghoul, I guess? It hit the walls pretty hard. Lady Aubrey took a hunting party out to the catacombs to try to track it down and kill it. They musta only left an hour or two ago.”

Shoshana shouts up that we’re gonna do a magic ritual to purify the water supply so it stops making the people sick. He’s like huh, it’s the water that’s doing that? That’s why I don’t drink it. 😉 Shoshana tells the old drunk an ancient Valdian proverb: HYDRATE OR DIEDRATE.

Anyway, It’s still early in the day and Valeria is buzzing with excitement, so we’re gonna get right to it. She’s gonna get to Be A Hero!

The ritual has a limited range, and the notes on the scroll say to plant the magic item at the river source, so we hike on up to the local landmark known as the Trollstones. Crabber says they looked pretty normal the last time he did a patrol; looks like a “big pile of rocks with water comin’ out.” Well, he’s not wrong.

In Valdia, “trollstones” is a catch-all term for any kind of standing stone, henge, or menhir, the assumption being that they were erected by trolls in ancient times. Many of them are assumed to be old druidic sites. This one, though crude, is huge and impressive. Hundreds of enormous stones are piled into a huge cairn. River water flows out of the gaps – some upper sections in impressive waterfalls, some flowing from underneath directly into the river basin. The water has a murky look to it, and the grass closest to the water is sickly and dying.

Valeria Investigates the area by strapping the Eyegis to the Aethis and sendin’ them swimming in. Our very good gator soon finds an entrance into the Trollstones! Turns out there’s a pretty substantial hollow under the big pile of rocks.

There’s air inside the cave, but we’ll have to swim a bit to get there. Shoshana strips off her big heavy skirt and Valeria hauls her onto the gator. We all dive underwater. CON saves all round! Valeria rolls a six and picks up 2 taint as the necrotic curse in the water seems to sap the life out of her. The cave is dark and dank, so we light up A-Luxor. We can now see a tall, craggy cavern, water dripping in rivulets over the jags of stone. Between the running water, uneven rocks, and slippery moss, it’s definitely difficult terrain. Clem nat 20s a Perception check and shudders as she feels the visceral power of the Pale King pulling at her soul.

The DM debuts a Special Location Rule. Due to the uneven footing, we may either treat the area as difficult terrain or try to move at full speed with a DC10 acrobatics check. If you fail, you slip on the rocks and fall prone partway through your movement.

We spot carvings in these stones, all over the place. Massive letters, deeply chiseled into the cave walls in a script we don’t recognize. However, there’s a smaller carving underneath in Old Valdian, seemingly a translation. Shoshana reads it out to the others: “This is the Tomb of Urdemak, First and Last King of the Trolls. Grandson of the Woods, so [unintelligible] with Life, that Death could not hold him. May we weep for his passing, and dread his return.”

Gral considers. “Perhaps this Urdemak is an agent of the Pale King?”

Shoshana rolls her eyes. “Uh, DUH. He sounds undead, don’t he?”

“No, I mean like the Lurker, or that creepy ringmaster. Something that’s higher in the Curse’s hierarchy than the dybbuk, something that’s controlling the Curse in this town.

Before we can plan a potential Boss Fight, Clem hears movement coming from outside the radius lit up by A-Luxor. It sounds like the rattling of bones. She draws her Warhammer and we all roll for initiative!

Shoshana backs up behind Aethis and readies a Chill Touch while Gral readies his crossbow and Clem draws her sword. Two massive skeletons lumber into view. Judging by their shape and their enormous claws, these are troll skeletons, clattering across the slick terrain with surprising ease.

One charges Clem, bowling into her like a truck even as Gral and Shoshana strike at it. She stands her ground, though, and meets it head on with her hammer for two crushing blows, bloodying it. (Well, if it had blood.)

Behind us, the water roils as two huge shapes rise out of the pool, forming into Water Weirds. Each has a skull floating in it. Valeria uses her shield as an umbrella against a deluge of water and breathes ice at them, but their churning water breaks up the ice crystals that form.

Clem whacks the crumbling troll skeleton again. Shoshana Burning Handses out of panic as the Weirds close in on her, which turns out to be a terrible idea against water monsters.

Gral manages to hook a troll skeleton right on a vertebra – hey, this looks important! – and yanks it right out of the spine, collapsing the skeleton. Meanwhile, the Water Weirds try to engulf Valeria and Shoshana, grappling them.

Valeria casts Command on the one holding her and tells it to Drop It. It obligingly drops her into the shallow waters. Aethis loyally slaps the Weird with its tail, cutting a slice through the water. It blorps itself back into shape, but clearly it’s been disrupted somewhat. Then, unfortunately, it just picks her right back up again. Aethis just keeps on slappin’.

Shoshana, like any cat that has been picked up against its will, claws and bites at the big water hand, dealing a decent amount of damage. In retaliation, the water rushes up over her face, and she takes 1 Taint as she chokes on stank cave water.

Meanwhile, Gral casts Phantasmal Force to momentarily convince a troll skeleton that magic shackles are wrapping around it. Clem sees a skeleton acting like it’s restrained and is like sure, I’d hit that. She crunches it to dust, Second Winding and charging toward where Valeria and Shoshana are getting absolutely soaked.

Gral, out of skeletons to fight, casts Dissonant Whispers on Valeria’s captor. It fails, but he damages it, and he uses his bonus to wooble Valeria out of the water. She takes 3 psychic damage as things get not Water Weird, but Key Weird, and she shlorps out of the water and hits the ground hard. Ow. Meanwhile, Shoshana finally manages to squirm free, dodging an AOO to go hide behind the tanks.

Gral loads up his heart-seeking crossbow bolt, hoping it’ll target a skull just as well, and nails the floating troll head for a chunk o’damage. Unfortunately, that means it’s noticed him, and he gets picked up by the big ol’ water hand. Aethis continues to twerk, thrashing the monster with its slappy tail.

Clem pulls her greatsword and strikes decisively with Great Weapon Master, severing one of the elementals from its water source, and it collapses into harmless water.

Shoshana, finally able to use ranged attacks, shoots the remaining one with a blast of cold, hoping to freeze it. And it does, icing over. Gral makes an athletics check to break out of the crumbling ice sculpture, and manages not to become art.

We stand in the dripping cavern once more. A-Luxor flits around happily, not sentient enough to notice there was a fight.

Valeria burns her new candle, and we take a short rest. The light of the holy wax candle is pleasant and it seems to keep the darkness and dread of this place away. Also, we don’t get a pile of taint, which is nice. Eventually the wick reaches its last, seeming to burn far faster than a candle should, but for a short time it was bright and cheerful in this dark, dank place. The joyful, flickering flame departs and we are once again left with the dark and the wet, the sound of rushing water and old ghosts.

We must pick a path. For lack of any differentiation, we go left. There’s a pile of skulls and bones piled up on the side of the tunnel. (Valeria grabs a troll vertebra as we pass by. It is quite old. It’s a T11 anteclinal vertebra, in dog anatomy terms. It’s the one that’s best for stabbing, apparently? We don’t have time to unpack this, Dr. Valeria’s Player.)

Shoshana rolls a nat 20. With her excellent darkvision, she sees another carving. Most of them have been in Troll – most of the party didn’t know trolls had written language, but here it is. The rest of this part of the cavern seems to be propped up by a few not-especially-sturdy wooden support pillars. We hear some scrambling coming from our left, and a pair of ghouls with axes rush out of the side tunnel.

Shoshana pokes her head out toward the noise and does a wink-and-finger-guns. One hit, one crit. Both ghouls instantly melt from acid. The DM complains because they were gonna chop down the support pillars and drop the ceiling on us in a fun puzzle fight, but NOPE LOL. You’re gonna need tougher enemies than that! (Shoshana’s player immediately knows she will regret saying that.)

With the ghouls out of the way, we take a closer look at the carving, its lower half reading in Old Valdian:

“His mother was a River-Queen and Daughter of the Wood, and her love suffused him with such life that no spear nor axe could fell him, unique among the Trolls. He feared not the touch of flame or acid, as no wound upon him could cause lasting harm. As he grew, he became the great champion and defender of the woods. For the first time, the [unintelligible] had a King.”

This seems to be a continuation of the first set of troll-runes. We want to show Dr. Kjeller, or perhaps Dr. Galvan.

Shoshana makes a Knowledge!Religion check. The Way of the Woods has a large but loose pantheon of wood spirits. The most powerful are affectionately referred to as Baba and Gramps, the grandmother and grandfather of the woods. They have many children, who are powerful wood spirits in their own right. If Urdemak’s mother was known as the River Queen and Daughter of the Wood, she would be one of the children of Baba and Gramps, which would have made Urdemak a wood troll demigod. That certainly explains the bit about not fearing flame or acid.

We listen ahead. From the rightward path we hear something scratching against stone. On the left we hear the sounds of rushing and dripping water, and wailing. This place seems, unsurprisingly, to be chock full of undead. Gral does a stealth ahead to the left path and doesn’t see much. The wailing is from a lot deeper in; whatever’s making it just has a darn good set of lungs.

Sneaking over to the right path, he sees something very interesting. There’s some sort of man-made structure! There’s carved stone pillars and smooth, rectangular construction. Huh, maybe the undead have construction tools? Also, he sees a large creature. It’s wearing a cloak.

Shame it’s spotted Gral.

He can barely see it, but he can feel the thing’s gaze upon him, sapping the life out of him. “That is NOT A FRIENDLY THING,” he hisses back to us.

The Bodak, as the DM calls it, slithers toward Gral and uses its Withering Gaze, trying to crumble him to dust. Despite a save, he still takes a hefty chunk of damage.

Shoshana aims a Fireball down the tunnel, roasting something that’s crawling out of a shadow and charring the Bodak. More skeletons and ghouls are pouring in, and the ones that avoided the blast squeeze their way out of the side tunnels and begin to funnel down toward us. Gral casts Bane upon the Bodak and two of his minions.

Clem charges ahead, keeping her footing on the slippery rocks, and cleaves a skeleton apart. Valeria throws a trident from a distance, forking another in the ribs. She holds her hand out, and glowing rose vines extend from Kyr Marius’ gauntlet to snap the trident back to her for another throw.

The Bodak steps forward, its eerie breath rattling out of its round mouth, and turns its terrible gaze on Valeria. Valeria’s holy aura defends her, and she only takes half damage.

If we want to make direct attacks against it, we must either avert our gaze (granting disadvantage) or make a Con save vs 3d10 damage. Shoshana sidesteps the decision with a Shatter spell, aided by Gral’s Bane, that destroys the second skeleton and bloodies both the ghoul and the Bodak, luckily just missing one of the support pillars. The ghoul charges Clem and misses, which is a mistake, since Valeria is right there to Sentinel it. She forks it with the trident like she’s picking up trash on the side of the road, and tosses it lifeless (un-lifeless?) into a corner. The Bodak hisses in displeasure. “Uuuuuseless…”

Gral uses Phantasmal Force to convince the thing that he is charging into melee with it, even though he’s staying well clear.

(“The Phantom of the Orc-era is theeeeere, insiiiiiide your mind…” one of the players quips.)

Clem heads on in with a Great Weapon Master attack, able to avoid its gaze as it turns to attack the illusory Gral. With a mighty swing, she takes a huge chunk out of the strange creature, tearing through its rotting robe.  

Valeria risks the CON save against its horrible stare, and passes. She throws her trident twice – a nat 20 and a nat 1, natch. The trident clatters against stone as the thing dodges out of the way, and then she yanks the trident back with her glowing vines, burying it in its back and shredding its rotted flesh. She is mildly a Fire Emblem character now, so she gets to do epic crit poses. Victory!

We cautiously emerge into the chamber that’s now been vacated. Valeria can recognize the style of construction! With A-Luxor’s light, we can now see that the Bodak was scratching at a carved stone door. Wait, this is Aquilian architecture! Valeria would know that style anywhere. There’s brick, and a bit of a frieze of eagle, and the columns are carved with legionnaire motifs. It’s simple, as Aquilian style goes. A heavy stone door is set into the center of the wall. We investigate it and, of course, check it for traps.

Valeria crits her investigation and finds the mechanism to open the door. It looks like the mechanism is broken, but with a bit of fighter-and-paladin muscle we can get the door open, no problem. Valeria doesn’t read much Old High Aquilian, but there’s writing on this. Something maybe like “Place of…” something.

Is it the nuclear waste message? “This is not a place of honor?” Only time, and reckless decisions, will tell.

With a nat 20, Valeria realizes something important. The writing wasn’t part of the original design. She can tell there was some sort of latent spellwork, like a low-level Stone Shape, that was set up to supersede the carving that was originally there. Something happened to trigger the spell, and a bunch of letters engraved themselves over the stone. Valeria’s not sure, but she thinks it says something along the lines of Containment Breach.

Uh-oh.

Shoshana copies down the writing, so we can double check with Lucinius, and then we crack that bad boy open.

There are four huge coffers here, like treasure chests. One is open and empty. (Shoshana’s player gets excited, assuming this is where they got that Warden mummy! But no, the DM said coffers, not coffins.) There is a sunken hollow in the center of the room, which has only a metal grate covering the opening to the water close below. Gral can see heavy chains dangling into the flowing water; something was once chained up there, but the chains have now been broken. Hmm.

Maybe this troll king Urdemak is the Pale King, and this is where he was imprisoned?

We think about it, but we’re doubtful. The Aquilian structure postdates the construction of the rest of this place, pretty substantially. This isn’t part of the troll tomb; this is something the Aquilians placed within the tomb site centuries later.

Our investigation reveals no traps. The coffers seem like some kind of foot locker? At the end of room, there is an altar with a bird on it – an altar to Oberok, flanked by austere stone lecterns. Valeria knocks over the statue of Oberok, because Rack’s sacrifice wasn’t for nothing, dangit! (Archaeologists Hate Her!)

In the carvings on the walls, we recognize a repeated word. It’s the word Lucinius pointed out in the mummy’s tattoos, the one he told us meant “Warden.”

Lucinius would be So Mad at us for ruining an archaeological site, but he’s not our dad. We find 400 old Aquilian gold coins. Valeria can easily tell us that we COULD use them as gold, but they’re more valuable as collector item. We roll a ONE HUNDRED on the loot treasure hoard table and nearly win a Rod Of Beating The Game. Instead, we find in the next locker a set of 4 Aquilian icons, each depicting an Aarakocra version of the four lesser gods, as they were before the Deicide. Rack the Soldier (which is weird to us), Lethe the Smith (without martial accoutrements), Torme as an owl-faced bird holding a tome, and a small, insignificant crow-like figure wrapped in a cloak – surely an old version of Guile.

In the third locker, we find a book. It appears to be written primarily in High Aquilian but with a lot of diagrams. Perhaps a training manual? Most of it has translations into Old Valdian, it seems! Shosh takes a look at the text. It’s titled: Warden’s Training Manual: The Spear and the Spell.

This is a magic item. If we train with it for a week, we gain advantage on saves vs each other’s attacks. Interestingly, it’s been modified to work for non-Aarakocra and translated, which means it was yet another collaboration between the Aquilians and the people they supposedly never invaded.

Meanwhile, Shoshana rolls well and finds a surprisingly well-preserved scroll in the lectern, with high Aquilian calligraphy inscribed on it. It feels magically inert to Shoshana – this is no spell scroll. Valeria rolls poorly on an Int check and doesn’t recognize most of the words. But the bit at the end is a common phrase.

As far as we can translate, which isn’t much, we read:

“First Prisoner, Item #5

Containment Procedure: [Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet] waters blessed by local spirits [consectetur adipiscing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor] influence of the prisoner.

As per request by [unintelligible], [incididunt un labore et dolore] disruption [magna aliquia].

Description: [Ut enim ad minim veniam] First Prisoner.

Let the Vanquished be forgotten, let the Victorious reign eternal.

Glory to Oberok.”

The scroll is damaged, but it doesn’t look like intentional damage, it’s just Real Old. This is important as hell! It’s clues!

With a nat 20, Valeria realizes something about the door.  Based on the way the rest of the door is weathered, in this wet cave, the Containment Breach message is comparatively very new. Within-the-last-couple-of-years new, compared to the ancient ruins. Maybe around a decade old? A little less?

That’s not too far from when the first stirrings of the Curse arose. This could have easily happened after the Curse began – or perhaps simultaneously.

We wrap up our exploration. The Aquilian structure is at a dead end, so we backtrack and begin to go down the tunnel with the wailing. We come across a third carving, though cracks and erosion have made parts of it illegible:

Man, no wonder the Pale King set up shop here.

“[unintelligible] that the Great Wyrm came. The sky filled with flame and fury; the wood burned with the Wyrm’s wrath. Urdemak led the Woods against the great Wyrm. He [unintelligible] the spear [unintelligible] aloft by a dozen giant eagles and [unintelligible] onto the Dragon’s Back.

Urdemak’s claws tore open the Dragon’s throat as it was filled with terrible flame. The fire, straight from the dragon’s heart, scorched Urdemak’s flesh from his bones. As the dragon’s death-spasms faded, the defenders of the Wood gathered around, awaiting their King’s regeneration.

But so thorough was his destruction by the dragon’s flame, bane to trolls, that he could not call the power of life to restore him, and so instead, the king’s grasping soul found only Death”.

As we move past the third carving, the sounds of rushing water echo through the dripping, dank cave. Gral’s keen ears hear something underneath that, clattering and clanking in the passage off to the left. He Mirror Images and we move ahead. Sure enough, there’s a big ol’ skeleton in plate armor waiting for us.

Valeria charges in, but as she passes by one of the piles of scattered bones, a skeletal hand snakes out and grabs her ankle. Startled, she fails to wrench her claw out, and she topples to the ground. The DM is pleased we are FINALLY next to one of the bone piles during a fight, we’ve avoided them like three times by chance. Valeria pushes to her feet and smacks the pile with a wrench, scattering the skull pile and sending the bones pinging off the rocks, but she’s lost her move on the skeletal knight. Gral throws Faerie Fire at it, but it dodges with practiced ease. No other enemies seem to be illuminated by the spell.

Clem charges the skull knight, smashing down on it with her Warhammer. It parries with its longsword and slashes down on her with a Blinding Smite of dark power.

Squeezing out of the rocks like a roiling dark mist comes a wailing, ghostly figure. The wraith drifts to Shoshana and grips her from behind. Her maximum HP is reduced by 21. That’s a LOT for a sorcerer! She chokes and pales as the life drains out of her.

Valeria decides she does not like this wraith thing that just ate her buddy, and mightily smites it, bloodying the cursed thing. Aethis twerks at a second pile of skulls that is swiping at Clem’s feet and smashes it apart, coming away with a hand clutching its tail. It derisively shakes off the weakened bones.

Gral throws a Dissonant Whispers at Ser Spooks the Skull Knight, and makes it afeared. It tries to flee, which gives Clem a chance to swing at it.

As Gral connects with the mind of the skull knight to frighten it, he gets flashes of this guy’s life the same way he sees into the Allsoul. This was originally a Paladin of the Order of the Hammer who left Valdia. There’s images of fighting pirates? Much of it is first person view of wielding a sword, smoke billowing from it as his Blinding Smite summoned Lethe’s flames. This guy’s maybe decades dead – not centuries, but not yesterday either. And the armor is clearly ceremonial rather than practical – something he might be buried in. Seems whatever’s haunting the Trollstones is recruiting from Mornheim’s catacombs.

As it tries to run past Clem, she catches it with her Warhammer, dealing it a terrible blow. She gives chase, dropping her hammer and drawing her greatsword. This thing’s armor was once a set of glorious full plate, but much of it has fallen away, and he’s not defending himself well – like he’s using a shield that isn’t there anymore. Aethis snaps its jaws shut on the Skull Knight’s leg, grappling it. It tries to drain Clem’s life force, but she shrugs off its magic. With Great Weapon Master, she brings her silvered greatsword down. The shock of the blow crumbles its cracked bones apart.

Shoshana’s claws manage to catch in the wraith’s mists, tearing holes through it. Gral runs toward the wraith with his silver dagger out, shoving Shoshana out of the way and plunging it into the wraith with the help of his Psychic Blades.

He summons the power of Blank Mask, a covert ops orc bard from the Asciension War. As he strikes through the wraith, the ghost of a hooded orc with a blank bard mask appears, grabs Gral’s dagger, and pulls the wraith’s head back to slit its throat like an assassin. The dagger clatters to the floor as both Blank Mask and the wraith fade away.

The way stands open, and there is another inscription on the wall.

“The power of Death filled him as Life had before, but, as Life begets Life, Death must spread itself, and Urdemak, now a thing of rot and decay, proceeded to lay waste to those he once protected. His great strength and will to live magnified by the cold grip of death. Eventually, the children of the Wood, the sons and daughters of the great ones, took to the field against their nephew. Many died, but eventually the thing that had been Urdemak was defeated.

The Trolls constructed a great tomb of many large stones to house the body. His mother was reduced to tears [unintelligable], and with those tears flowed her wish that none would ever suffer as she had suffered, that none would see their children returned as twisted servants of death.”

Well that certainly explains…literally everything about Mornheim.

Valeria reaches out and grants a blessing from Rack upon her friends with Aid, which our HP totals all very much appreciate.

We short rest again in the warden’s outpost, Gral singing a Song of Rest, and all take 4 taint. We return to the passage of the fourth tablet and find our way forward.

As we approach the tomb itself, we can hear a voice ahead, speaking modern Valdian. “They’ll be here any minute! Wake up, you old idiot!”

Gral can sense something up ahead, similar to how he senses the Allsoul. If the Allsoul is a rock concert, this is a kid on a triangle. But for a single soul to even be audible? That’s astounding. If that’s a single voice, that’s a voice of immense power.

“I know you’re in there! You ingrate! What, afraid you’ll make your mother sad? After everything I did for you,” a sodden-looking figure in ratty robes is shouting, waving his arms in frustration.

As we make it into the huge chamber, we can see he is dwarfed by the imposing standing stones. Massive stone sarcophagi tower in a semicircle over a burbling, whirling spring. To the side, an enormous rock landslide partially buries the skeleton of a mighty dragon.

Every inch of this cave wall has been carved with Troll words, depictions of life and deeds of Urdemak. Given that the centerpiece is a pretty epic mural of Urdemak fighting the Great Wyrm, we can guess where the dead dragon came from.

One of the sarcophagi has been broken open, and someone has placed an enormous troll skull, massive even for a troll, on top of it, turning the tomb into a huge stone altar. A small, human-sized silver crown is placed upon its head; we recognize the same style of crown from the Pale King tapestry we looted from the castle.

Somebody’s turned this place into an altar of the Pale King. Possibly that little dude over there.

Valeria would like to object to that, preferably with violence. Gral would like to alter that altar.

The skull must be Urdemak, first and last king of the trolls. The crown, though – perhaps it was the thing that was being held in the Aquilian chamber?

The little man still hasn’t stopped complaining. “Wake. Up!” He throws a rock at the skull and misses. “Useless ingrate!”

As we approach, armor clanking, the figure turns around and groans. “Oh. You again.”

I’m sorry, have we met?

Shoshana sarcastically waves hello. Gral rolls insight. It’s not trying to hide who it is. Gral’s not sure whose skin it’s wearing, but it’s that frickin’ dybbuk again.

“What are you trying to do here?” it complains. “I put a lot of work into this place!”

Shoshana stops waving and flips him off.

The dybbuk raises his voice, in that spooky cadence necromancers use for sounding dramatic. “Urdemak!” it intones. “These interlopers have violated your tomb! If you would, rise up and destroy them!”

The skull does not move.

We roll for initiative anyway.

The dybbuk moves first. “Fine. You won’t kill them yourself? I can still make use of you!” It begins to chant, mumbling quickly with pronunciation that sounds archaic even for Old Valdian. Something about “Guardian of the River Morn, servant of my-“ It switches language, but clearly it’s summoning something. The dybbuk deftly steps back onto the altar and gestures as the waters begins to writhe and roil and spin, rising to engulf the massive skull and claws from atop the altar.

Now if you’ll excuse the DM, he needs to add one more thing to the initiative order. This thing, he calls…the Pale Spring.

As this thing’s health bar grows across the top of the screen, we recognize it looks similar to the Water Weirds on a far larger scale. More human and troll bones rise from the pool into its swirling mass, but Urdemak’s mighty skull and claws form the cornerstones of its shape.

If we’re coming here to put a sword in the water, the DM figured the water should have a chance to object first.

Gral slaps Clem with an inspiration and makes a joke in Orcish along the lines of “who pooped in the pool?” Shosh rolls her eyes, but it fails its save. Let us be clear: you, sir, are stank water.

The Spring raises itself up and the chamber begins to flood. Its claws seem to be wreathed with some kind of horrible necrotic energy. We all manage to keep our feet against the huge wave it throws at us, except for Aethis, who was swimming instead of standing. The gator is dashed against the rocks and bursts into a cloud of sparkles, gone until Valeria can resummon it.

Valeria, outraged, charges forward and hurls a trident, her gauntlet allowing her to whip it back a second time. She also casts Shield of Faith on Shoshana. Shoshana, who is aggressive but no fool, casts Mirror Image on herself and tries to hide behind a rock.

Clem tries to slog through the deep water, rolling good Athletics to avoid it being difficult terrain, and whiffs both her attacks, sword slicing harmlessly through the water – until Gral’s bardic inspiration kicks in. The bones seem to flow into place to form armor to block her swings, but she manages to crack some femurs.

It uses its legendary action to crit Clem. It’s facing the other way, but the troll claw flows through its center as a new watery arm grows out and rockets into the drow.

The dybbuk leans casually against the empty sarcophagus. “Y’know, if you would have shown some gratitude and killed them, this could all have been avoided!” It wiggles its hands and some skeletons crawl out of the cracks in the rocks and form out of the mounds of bones. “You! Throw things at them!” it commands them.

It spares a glance toward the dragon skeleton. “No. Don’t even think about it. We’re not there yet. I know better than to trust YOU.”

The Pale Spring’s claws surge with energy, giving it an extra d10 on attacks. Both Clem and Valeria get slammed as the bones hurtle toward them on powerful jets of water.

Valeria gets up in the Spring’s face and smites it. After all, it’s both undead and an elemental. As Valeria raises her sword She-Ra style, vines grow around it and down into the water. s she strikes into the mass of water, The bones try again to form armor but the glowing rose vines grow through the cracks, wrapping around the bones and crushing them to powder. It roars with anger, and for the first time, the dybbuk looks genuinely concerned.

Gral rolls perception at the DM’s request. That note he heard before, he hears it clearer and louder now. From the skull, from the claws, echoing from the unbroken stone sarcophagi. Gral has talked to powerful ancient spirits before; he gets the unmistakable vibe that Urdemak is deeply enraged. But there’s no animosity toward us; he’s angry at the way this dybbuk has disturbed his rest and dared to use him.

Shoshana squeaks an “I’m sorry, Clem” and casts a fireball toward the melee. The chamber lights up with flames and rattles with a mighty KABOOM. The dybbuk is pretty scorched and any mook skeletons in the way are gone to ash, but Clem manages to dodge the worst of it. Steam rises off the Pale Spring as it turns to retaliate, the frigid water coming to life and sucking Shoshana under. The bony fingers of the Pale King wrap around her and in her terror she falters – and lets the Pale King gift her 10hp in return for 2 taint.

Clem rushes at the Dybbuk, intent on destroying the one who turned the Red Hand into a death cult, but the Spring strikes at her as she runs, knocking her unconscious. She takes 3 taint as she falls toward death, into the Pale King’s domain.

Gral’s nearly out of spells, but he throws a Healing Word at Clem. He channels an Orcish drill sergeant yelling “DID I SAY IT WAS NAPTIME, SOLDIER? GET UP, SOLDIER, YOU ARE NOT AUTHORIZED TO BLEEEED.” Then he draws his sickle and goes in! His Psychic Blades barely scratch it, rolling low.

The Pale Spring readies its claws, charging them up again to strike with extra damage. Clem dodges, narrowly avoiding another killing blow, but it manages to slam Valeria hard against the rocks.

The dybbuk orders the remaining skeleton to throw something at us. Its aim is not great. A clavicle just sort of clatters toward us awkwardly.

Shoshana leans back and lets raw electricity course out of both of her hands, blasting her usual twinned Chromatic Orb at a much higher level. The dybbuk is booted completely out of its flesh suit. We see the familiar floating skull in the bell of the jellyfish as the body it was wearing falls apart. The Pale Spring takes a heavy hit too, the electricity surging through it in a brilliant crackle, steam rising. It retaliates, trying to drag Shoshana down into the undertow, but she hangs onto a sturdy rock and keeps her feet under her.

Clem pushes herself to her feet, Second Winds, and buries her sword into the currents. It’s got more bone fragments than bones inside now, and she manages to take a chunk out of one of the huge troll claws. It swipes back, but feebly, for minor damage – which allows Valeria to strike in with a Sentinel.

The dybbuk’s lost its body and the Pale Spring’s nearly down; it’s not gonna stick around. It woobles away down through the cave floor, eluding us once again.

Gral throws the last of his inspirations into a Psychic Blades. A ghostly circle of orc heroes raise their lances and plunge them into the water, all at once. The elemental lashes out, flailing as the circle of orcs presses inwards, its claws passing through the specters even as they crush its bones. It falls, reduced to simple water, back into the spring, and the two troll claws wash back down into the central pit.

The waters recede and we are left standing in the tomb of Urdemak the Troll King. Wait, no, there’s still a skeleton mook there. We give it a sternly worded Go Away.

Valeria runs over to Clem, patting at her for 15hp and healing herself 15hp as well. We managed to turn around fast enough to avoid one of the fight mechanics. If the dybbuk got desperate, it would have awoken the dragon. It hesitated when Clem went down, and then Shosh nuked it.

We all take a deep breath. Clem’s a bit miffed that she didn’t get to beat the crap out of the dybbuk for possessing her old friend, but such is life.

We set to moving the piles of bones out of the water. Shoshana uses her Mage Hand to remove the crown from Urdemak’s skull, since nobody wants to touch that thing. The skull is suffused with necromantic energy. To Valeria’s Detect Magic, the crown is lighting up like a bonfire. Gral’s getting vibes from the skull, though – it’s feeling a lot more chill with the dybbuk driven off.

It takes some elbow grease and ingenuity to place the enormous skull and claws back into the open stone sarcophagi and close them again.

We roll against Taint for exposing ourselves to the necromantic energy of the fight. Everyone succeeds.

Hey, what do we do with this evil crown?

We talk it out. Judging by what we’ve seen down here, it sounds like the River Mother’s blessing on this tomb and these waters was what was stopping all undead from rising in Mornheim. The Aquilian containment zone worked by submerging the evil undeath crown in the blessed waters.

It looks like the dybbuk, or another agent of the Pale King, managed to remove that blessing and turn the tomb into an altar of undeath. Valeria’s ritual will slow down the undead and stop the Curse from poisoning the city through the water, but it won’t restore the blessing of the River Mother. Submerging the crown, at this point, would just start tainting the water again. We decide to put it in a foot locker in the Aquilian structure; at least it’ll be contained.

While we worry about the crown, Valeria begins her ritual. Shoshana has coached her on the pronunciation of the Old Valdian incantation. There is a section that’s invocation of the Power; written to reach out to Grandmother and Grandfather but Valeria switches to Draco-Aquilian to invoke her patron Rack.

She raises the sword we prepared, anointed with the druidic poultice made of the plants we gathered in Bad Herzfeld, the vine of the moon lily wrapped around the sword like a chain of Rack. As she reads the words aloud and drains power from the scroll into the sword, the writing on the scroll melts away.

Standing on the altar where the skull used to be placed, Valeria strikes the sword down, sheathing it into the water. It stays upright as it leaves her hands. The moon lily’s vine grows upwards, blooming into a massive flower above the water, its roots extending deep down into the spring.

The sickly, murky look fades from the waters and they once again run clear. The purified water begins to flow down through in rivulets through the tomb of Urdemak and down into the River Morn.

Valeria has Achieved Her Quest! +1 Inspiration!

 We take some time to admire our work and clear the Pale King’s trappings out of Urdemak’s tomb, but soon it’s time to leave. As we turn to go, Shoshana places her hand on the stone sarcophagus holding Urdemak’s mighty claws, and pauses as she feels a wave of overwhelming power.

It feels like gratitude.

As she blinks stars out of her eyes, Shoshana sees her hand atop the king’s tomb, overlaid by the ghostly shape of a troll’s heavy, sharp claws. She blinks again and the image is gone, along with the strange sensation, but as she flexes her claws she feels like something has changed.

(Shoshana has received a boon: Claws of the Troll King! Grants an extra d4 of damage to the Primal Savagery cantrip, with an additional d6 of damage for each sorcery point spent, up to 3d6. Each additional die also heals the caster that many hit points. Requires attunement.)

We climb our weary way out of the caves. Luckily, it seems we’d already cleared the area of nasties, or they’re avoiding the newly blessed waters, and we’re mostly undisturbed on the way out. We are drained, exhausted, and of course absolutely soaking wet.

As we hike back to town, we see the clear waters flowing through the still blighted land of Mornheim. Maybe it’s our imagination, but the area around the river seems just a little less Tim Burtony. It’s been several hours; the sun is almost down as we hurriedly drag ourselves to the safety of the walls. Near the city, we see a ragged group emerging from one of the catacomb entrances. It’s Lady Aubrey and her crew; they look quite scorched except for Mercedes. We, on the other hand, look quite damp.

Aubrey squints at us. “You’re back? The fuck’ve you been up to?” She hasn’t been home to find out we showed up.

Valeria chirps, “We Purified the Water!” You can almost hear the capital letters. Shoshana just points at Valeria and nods. “What she said.”

Gral, thankfully, is a master storyteller and actually gives Aubrey the deets as we schlep back to town.

“…And you found this scroll in my house?” she asks, once he’s done. We nod and hand over the scroll. The spell incantation has melted away, but the instructions on spell components still remain. Aubrey’s obviously taken aback by what she sees. “…this is my mom’s handwriting. I don’t…you’re gonna have to tell me everything. We should get inside the walls.”

She composes herself, back to business for now. “So did it work?”

Valeria nods. “Yup. We weren’t able to restore the blessing, but the water won’t be making everyone sick anymore.”

“Wait, wait, the water was blessed?”

Shoshana nods. “Yep, uh, the Trollstones is this big troll grave, and there was a blessing from a Child of the Woods to prevent her son from rising as undead, and the Curse seems to have broken it-“

“Why does it feel like you learned more about my home in a day than I’ve known in my entire life?!”

“Uh, we went…real deep. And fought monsters about it.”

“Yeah, I’ve gone real deep! I’ve fought monsters! You know what I found out? I found out there’s SUPERGHOULS.”

When we get to the walls, the old troll gardener, Skulbjor, is guarding the gate. “Oh! It’s dem! Hey, where’s your chomper?” he asks, looking around for poor exploded Aethis.

“…Don’t worry, they’ll be back!”

“Oh good, dat’s a good chomper. How was your hunt, Lady Aubrey?”

“Well the thing is dead. Again.”

As we drag ourselves inside, Gral approaches the old troll. “Skulbjor, how familiar are you with the legends of this place?”

“Well, I grew up here,” he says. “I’m older than most anybody what lives here.”

“Have you ever heard the name Urdemak?”

Skulbjor considers for a minute, his face scrunched up in concentration. “No, I don’t know dat one. Where’s he buried?”

“The Trollstones were his tomb. He was a great troll king, whose power was perverted by the undead in this place. His spirit was angry, but I think we were able to put it at peace.”

The troll considers this quite seriously. Finally, he nods. “Dat’s good to hear. One thing the previous troll told me is dat it is a very old troll tradition that there must always be a troll in Mornheim, and to never ever mess with the Trollstones. Lady Rosalind went there a lot. She went there the day she got sick, even. I found her there, yanno. Brought her back to the castle myself, but she never woke up.”

Man, do we have a story for him later.

While walking, Valeria takes moment and thanks Shoshana for helping with the translation and pronunciation of the spell, and helping save the town. There’s hugs. 😊

The two adventuring parties stumble into the gates of Mornheim as the sun sets, sharing stories. Skulbjor looks out over the hills for a long moment before closing the gate. “Urdemok. Wow, das interesting.”

Valeria and Gral roll CON saves against the Pale King’s taint. Clem and Shoshana, meanwhile, have gained enough taint to receive an Offer.