Dot.
You've been having strange dreams lately. Of an ancient altar stone beneath the earth. Of a grove of fossilised trees, growing upon purple-blue earth. A book inlaid with an amethyst, closed by insect-like clasps. All throughout the dreams you can hear the sound of chanting, but are unable to make out the words. The chanting grows louder, weaving a chain of words around you. You feel entire self being compressed, tighter and tighter. You can't breathe. Then you wake up.
You have received a note from a delivery boy. It reads, "I have found a way to transcend the limitations of the human mind. Seek me out in the asylum, alone, to hear of my revelation." -Crove
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Crove's message comes as something of a relief.
Perhaps these matters are linked? It is most curious that a missive should come from him, just as these visions occur... I wonder what he has discovered... or awoken.
He then turns to the figure standing silently in the corner of the room - an enormous humanoid-ish form, clad in a voluminous, tattered yellow robe, its arms clad in dirty yellow linen bandages, and its face obscured by a delicate silver mask, which seems to glisten in the faint candle-light, ever-so-slightly warping the reflections in its surface.
"Come. We must return to Carrion Hill."
So saying, he hires a mount, and begins the long journey.
Ustalav has never been the best of places to be in at the best of times, but this time it seems worse. Your respective journeys are plagued with constant and heavy downpour, and there's barely a moment in the day where you can see the sun. The cobblestones on the ground are slick with rivulets of rainwater running down, and the steeets are deserted, despite it being late in the morning. A single figure clad in an oil sicked black garment desperately strives to make himself heard over the downpour.
“Carrion Hill needs heroes! Men of stout heart and bravery are asked to come to Crown Manor with all haste, there to receive a task worthy of their skill and talents and a reward of suitable magnificence. Make haste to Crown Manor! Make haste!”
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Fresh off the carriage, his back aching from the poor suspension of the carriage, not to mention the poor maintenance of the road, Howard frowns and shakes his head in frustration as he hears the crier's words.
Unbelievable. What pitiful problems do they have now? Still, it might be useful to 'check-in', as it were... at best, I can gather some coin, and at worst, if they see me and my companion as 'adventurers', they are less likely to look too closely, or ask too many questions.
With a resigned sigh, he heads for Crown Manor, Hastur trailing sinuously in his wake.
Upon arriving at the Manor, he formally introduces himself.
"I am Howard. It's been a while, but I used to live here for a time, so I still remember a thing or two about how this place operates; what seems to be the problem, that you require outside assistance?"
The man, happy to get out of the cold rain, eagerly leads both of you to the manor. On the way to the manor, both of you see despite the hour of the day, the shops are closed, and the streets deserted.
As both of you approach the Crown Manor, you see two Crows, guardsmen dressed in black leather armor and chains wielding bows and longswords, standing guard.
When they see you two approach, their somber expressions flicker with hope, but that changes when they see Hastur. One of the guards looks at Hastur dubiously, but lets you two into the Central Hall, dripping and wet. Howard notices the guard making a sign of protection against evil at Hastur, the moment Hastur passes him.
In the great hall, several members of the Crows stand guard while the mayor, a distracted and worried man named Vanton Heggry, sits in a tall-backed chair. When Heggry sees all of you enter, he straightens up and says, “At least we’ve got a few backbones still upright in this place,” then gestures for all of you to be seated, clears his throat, and continues. As you introduce yourself, he acknowledges your greeting, "Ah Howard, I heard from Doctor Crowe you left to pursue your own research elsewhere?"
"Nevertheless, I thank you for attending in our hour of need—Carrion Hill has a long history of battle, yet always before its enemies have attacked from outside our walls. We are fortified to defend against such attacks, but now we face an entirely different threat. Our enemy is already here, dwelling in the tunnels and catacombs below and surfacing to strike without warning.“
"As you may have heard, the first of these attacks occurred early this very morning, when something huge came up from below in a part of the Tangles called Slipper Market. It partially destroyed a building and killed a half dozen locals before retreating into the ruined structure. The Crows were swift to reply, led by our own Commander Garus, but when they arrived, they were slaughtered to the last.“
"Since then, the thing has moved on, surfacing no less than three times in different parts of the city, crushing buildings from below and slaying anyone it finds inside. I’ve got the entire force of the city watch in reserve, and with each new event they respond quickly, but the damage is always done by the time they arrive. "
"Already there is talk of war and invasion, but I still believe that what we face is a single horror. If we can only figure out what it is, we might be able to defeat it. And this is where your group comes in—the horror has moved on from its initial point of entrance, but if you can explore the ruins in Slipper Market, perhaps you can find some sort of clue to tell us what it is we face. I cannot spare any of my Crows to aid you, for they are needed in keeping order in the streets, but if indeed you can find something… anything… about this monster from below, I will pay you handsomely: 1,500 gold for solid information, and twice again that amount for aiding in defeating the horror.”
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Howard's face remains unreadable as he listens to the mayor's words, but he acknowledges the man's greeting with quick smile and a nod.
"It certainly sounds like a... most unusual... problem. Those tend to be the sorts of things that attract my attention. I and my companion," he says, gesturing in Hastur's direction, "would certainly be willing to discover what we can."
He then frowns as he regards the gunslinger.
"I can't speak for this one; I do not know him."
"Good good. I worry for you, Howard. Crove is a good man, dedicating his life to treating the illnesses of the mind, but I don't think he would know anything about monster hunting, would he?" He gives Howard a concerned look."Furthermore, Commander Garus was well-versed in dealing with ghouls, skeletons and the uncanny like, yet him and his squad were completely wiped out."
"There is safety in numbers, and since Angus is willing to assist, it would be good for you and your companion to team up with Angus to find out more about this horror, and split the reward."
He turns to face Angus and answers his question."As for the horror, whatever emerged to destroy the buildings was certainly the size of a giant, judging by the extent of the damage it inflicted. But those who saw the events have difficulty describing it - it was as if the buildings were pulled apart from within. Some few who saw more say that the horror itself was strangely hard to see, as if it kept to the shadows or was invisible."
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"Oh, I would not dream of personally engaging anything especially nasty - I would describe myself as more of an investigator and advisor, who has a knack for handling situations of an arcane bent. Believe me, I took Crove's training to heart - there is no use collecting knowledge, if you simply end-up lunch for some unspeakable horror."
Howard then shrugs.
"If a more physical display is required, however, my colleague here," he says, gesturing to his masked companion, "can certainly punch things until they stop moving."
The humanoid shape gives a throaty chuckle, before speaking in a near-whisper, which nevertheless still manages to sound not unlike multiple voices speaking as one.
"Hastur."
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Howard throws Angus an apologetic smile.
"You will have to forgive my colleague - he is a being of few words, most of the time. He is, however, extremely good at his job - which is keeping me alive. He does, after all, have something of a vested interest in my continued existence."
He then turns back to the mayor.
"I take it that you would prefer us to get started straight away?"
"Yes, that would please me greatly, before we all end up down the gullet of some unspeakable horror." He seems to be growing impatient and gestures at two of his Crows to escort all of you to Slipper market.
When all of you arrive at Slipper Market, they find the place in a state of disorder. Normally a bustling market, it is abandoned save for two dozen milling Crows. The Crow escort leads all of you through this throng of guards to a side street that has been roped off; one guard lifts a soaking, dripping rope barrier to let all of you through and indicates that both Tarrig’s home and the partially ruined building where the first attack occurred lie just beyond.
Wide-eyed faces watch the market from upper floor windows, but no one speaks—the only sound is the constant onrush of the driving rain.The guards have set up benches under a barely functioning open tent in the market near the roped-off street entrance. Under the tent lie the remains of three bodies—all the guards have been able to recover from the site so far. Garus is not among the dead. The first two bodies are a pair of homeless thugs who lived in the alley . The first has been flattened by a single crushing attack to the chest, while the second has had his back broken. The third body is one of the Crows, a man whose body has been twisted twice around at the waist like a knotted rag and whose arms are broken in so many places that they flop like tentacles. His chain shirt and sword are twisted like the rest of his body—whatever did this to the man was huge and incredibly strong.
The door to this modest cobbler’s shop hangs open and a pool of rainwater has collected in the front room. Shelves of shoes line the walls, and a small counter covered with shoemaking tools sits near a narrow flight of stairs to the south that leads up to a second floor. In the nightstand, both of you discover a stash of flayleaf.
The side of a single-story wooden house has collapsed outward into this ten-foot-wide alley, adding to the clutter and refuse. The roofs provide some shelter from the rain, leaving swaths of blood and gore on walls here and there. The hideous smell wafting out of the ruined building is as unplacable as it is stomach turning. Perhaps the strangest is the huge spiral-shaped smear of blood on the wall opposite the partially collapsed building— sheltered by the rain, this ominous rune rises high on the side of the building, as if something enormous had used a broken and bleeding body as a brush to paint its mark.
This living room is in a complete state of disarray. Doors are smashed open and the northern wall has exploded outward. The furniture is in shambles, and rain leaking in from multiple fresh holes in the roof has done little to wash away the thick layer of sticky black slime that seems to coat every surface— slime that exudes a horrific stench something like an open grave, burnt decay, the air before a thunderstorm, wet and diseased fur, and worse. Scattered amid the slime and rubble are body parts—too many to be from one victim and all strangely bloodless. The smell in the room is hideous – you become sickened as long as you remain in the vicinity of the half-dried slime.
This room was once a cluttered but cozy parlor, but now the couches, bookshelves, tables, and other comforts are in complete disarray. The eastern wall is partially collapsed, including what once may have been a fireplace to the northwest and two doors leading into other rooms of the building to the southwest. A hideous smell wafts through these holes. An examination of the books here reveals that the vast majority are about the history of Carrion Hill and the immediate surroundings. A large number of books about astronomy are present as well. None are outstanding in their rarity, and most are rather damaged by rain leaking in through the new holes in the roof.
What appears to have once been a library and bedroom is now in a shambles. Furniture is splintered, shelves and books smashed and torn, and everything is coated with a thick, stinking layer of tar-like sludge. A door frame lies burst open to the southwest, beyond which a flight of slime-smeared stone steps leads downward into the dark. The books are of the same type of those found in A4, but these books seem to have been more valuable and more focused on strange monstrous forms and sinister cults. The smell in the room is hideous – you become sickened as long as you remain in the vicinity of the half-dried slime.
The strange spiral as a symbol associated with both magical portals and the Dark Tapestry, the dark region between the stars where ancient gods are said to dwell
The spiral is one of many symbols tied to a specific one of these alien gods known as Yog-Sothoth, an entity associated with gates, portals, time, and space.
The source of the black slime came up from below—judging by the amount smeared on the walls and ceiling, whatever it was had to squeeze itself into the space in order to clamber up the stairs.
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Noting the horribly mutilated bodies, Howard casts some buffs.
"It looks like whatever killed them was capable of applying a great deal of force to the solution of its problems..."
He then cautiously moves to explore the rest of the building.
Howard notes the stash of flayleaf, and quietly pockets it.
I doubt the former owner will have much use for it.
Intriguing. Maybe Crove really was onto something? Who knows what dark things his rituals may have awakened - this town has been built on the ruins of its predecessors for thousands of years, after all, so there could be all manner of things hibernating below...
Barely able to retain control of his stomach, Howard quickly moves on.
Howard is quite interested by the choice in literature of the former owner.
Quite well-read for a cobbler. Then again, rare it is for anyone in this town to be exactly what they seem...
Having by now gotten used to the smell, Howard dispassionately (but nevertheless still rapidly) does his best to inventory the room.
His attention, however, is inexorably drawn towards the dark staircase heading down...
He starts to head that way (using Prestidigitation to clear a path through the slime), before turning back to face Angus.
"Do you need a light source, or are you comfortable operating in the dark, as we are?"
"I will lead."
With a nod to Howard, Hastur heads down the stairs.
The party moves down the stone stairs into the depths. The smell becomes less strong as all of you proceed.Traces of dust and debris indicate that the stairs may have once been clogged with rubble but were recently cleared; by the second turn in their descent, the architectural style changes to an older one involving stone arches and brick-lined walls. Then the party comes to a large chamber.
The chamber’s brick-lined walls are supported by fifteen-foot-high stone arches. Between each arch, circular alcoves have been cut into the wall, each containing a stone sarcophagus. One sarcophagus on the southern wall has toppled over, spilling its long-dead occupant partially out on the brick floor. A dry swath of black sludge nearly ten feet wide runs down the center of the room, connecting the west and northeast stairs. The far end of the hall seems to have collapsed long ago.
The door is stuck, as if barricaded from the other side.
Hastur hovers protectively over Howard, just in case the occupants of the sarcophagi turn out to be especially feisty.
The bodies in the sarcophagi are little more than bones dressed in fragments of armor and bearing ancient, rusty swords. Howard recognizes the style of armor as ancient Taldan followers of Aroden.
With inhuman strength, Hastur forces the southern door open.
The door bursts into splinters sending stone debris flying all over the place. Now that Hastur has busted through, he realizes that someone or something has set up a crude barricade.
The walls of this long chamber are of brick, the ceiling supported by stone arches. Remnants of bedrolls and other camping equipment lie along the southern wall.
Both of you hear a panicked voice from the northern door."वह आ रहा है! हमारी आखिरी स्टैंड के लिए तैयार!"
Its coming! Prepare to make our final stand!"
With a hiss of anticipation, Hastur moves on to the next door, Howard cautiously following in his wake.
The door opens with a loud crash with gravel flying all over the place.
Mounds of rubble line the walls of this partially collapsed chamber, but here and there patches of brickwork are visible on the floor and walls. One rounded alcove remains in the northern wall, though it lacks a sarcophagus. The party sees 3 small humanoids clothed in rags and clutching daggers, trying to hide among the rubble.
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Howard shrugs.
He then starts speaking in a strange language, which causes Angus' ears to ache.
"Dydw i ddim yn gwybod yr iaith, mae arnaf ofn, ond I * ddim * yn cydnabod yr hyn y maent yn cael eu - mae'r rhain yn Dringwr bach tywyll, humanoids sy'n byw yn y tywyllwch tragwyddol o dan wyneb y byd, ond yn mentro allan ar wyneb y nos, i ddwyn ac achosi anhrefn Maent yn hoffi defnyddio gwenwyn, ac yn ffrwydro mewn fflach llachar o oleuni ar farwolaeth Maent hefyd yn siarad dim ond eu hiaith eu hunain - Dark Gwerin."
Hastur then steps forward.
"We will not get any information from them - they only speak Dark Folk... and I hunger."
He then proceeds to tear the closest one apart, before it has a chance to act.
Hastur cleanly eviscerated one of them with his claws. As it dies, it explodes in a flash of bright light.
You're blinded for
The rest of the dark creepers seem to be blinded by the flash of bright light and are red eyed and tearing, desperately trying to clear their vision.
Angus's pistol shot opens a gaping wound in its abdomen, and it grimaces in pain, but still remains standing.
Hastur steps into the room, and starts swinging, taking full advantage of the creatures' blindness...
..he then bends forward, and small tentacles delicately lever his mask out of the way, allowing him to bite down *hard* on the injured Dark Folk.
Blinded, these creatures are easy prey for Hastur. He lashes out at the one Angus shot with his claw, cutting it into two. It explodes in a flash of brilliance.
Hastur is blinded by the explosion, and his second claw goes wide. His attempts to bite of the dark creeper results in him biting only air.
The dark creeper tries to defend itself from the monstrous thing. It strikes true but fails to penetrate the invisible barrier around Hastur.
Angus shoots the remaining Dark Creeper in the chest, then in the head. It too explodes in a flash of light.
There are no bodies, only burnt rags and 3 daggers where the Dark Creepers used to be. The daggers seem to be coated with an oily green substance.
Meanwhile, Hastur readjusts his mask, his minor tentacles retreating behind his impassive silver visage, and turns to face the others.
"I still Hunger."
He then moves to guard the staircase going down, until the others have finished investigating the room.
The daggers are coated with a foul-smelling green paste distilled from certain deep-underground fungi known as green smear—injury; save Fort DC 15; frequency 1/round for 6 rounds; effect 1d2 Str; cure 1 save.