This campaign, as it were, is actually me running a group of characters through the Rise of the Runelords campaign setting, by myself. On my off gaming time, I do these kinds of things, but have never published or written about them until now.. If it is well received, I may do Second Darkness the same way... So, without further ado, my subjective version of Rise of the Runelords, starring:
- Broken Tusk, Varisian Half-orc Trophy Hunter
- Garrus Marchek, Taldan Academic Wizard
- Jigoro Bunkai, Tian-Min
NinjaDiplomatic Aide
- Prudii, Chelaxian Pharasmin Cleric
- Raven, Keleshite Monk
- and the ensemble NPC cast of the Adventure Path.
Crash! Rocks and dirt spit up into the face of a broken warrior recently slammed into the hard packed earth of the Storval Plateau. His body shuddered before passing into welcome unconsciousness. A blood encrusted axe lay buried in the ground next to his face.
"It is done.", a voice split through the fog of dust and fast forming webs in the mind. "Jautyuk is defeated. I am the new chieftain." The owner of the voice stalked over to the fallen leader, the crunch of his feet on the rocks sending small jolts of electricity throughout the former chief's body.
"No, Kurhak!" All at once, a young warrior leaped from the surrounding crowd, sound not unlike thunder escaping from something in his hands, a cloud of smoke soon following. Kurhak stood still for a brief moment, slowly realizing he had gained a new opening in his throat. When his body finally slumped to the ground, blood crept along the ground, slowly forming a puddle of blackish red.
As the newcomer realized his mistake, a heavy thud impacting his jaw brought him to the present. Looking at his attacker, he saw no anger, no hatred, only pity.
"Jaukyat, son of Jautyuk. You have interfered with the rightful ascension by way of combat. You have also introduced human tools into this tribe, though being told numerous times that they are dangerous and not to be trusted. For that, you must be punished. You are to take your things, all your human trinkets, and begone from this place. You are never to return, for if you do, you will be deemed Black Blood and be set to the hunt."
Jaukyat's eyes searched the shaman's for some sense of forgiveness, some sense of anything that might stay this death sentence. There was none. Only pity. He turned away, heading towards his hut, just outside his father's. After gathering what he could carry, the tribe had formed a line outside, waiting to see him off, each one carrying a small knife.
As he walked by, each member nicked his arms, legs or back. Each cut deep enough to leave a scar to remember his crimes. No one said anything to him and he had nothing to say in return. As he reached the outskirts of the tribe's living area, he fought the urge to look back.
With a heavy sigh, he headed south, towards the humans...
"Absalom, Cassomir, Almas. All perfectly good places to continue my studies and you send me to Sandpoint? There is nothing there but small time hacks and big time peasantry. How do I even begin to fit in such a dismal place?" Garrus Marchek, Arcanamirium Apprentice, First Class. This prestigious title mattered little to the man staring at him through thick eyebrows and even thicker glasses.
"Your talents are wasted in such politicking places. You could make something of yourself in Sandpoint. A true name to be respected and admired. In Abasalom, you would stay just as you are. Another Apprentice to another wizard, following in the footsteps of someone else. Besides, the Sandpoint Devil should be of some interest to you. Your specialization in the magic of creatures and all that."
Garrus sighed, a puff of smoke escaping his parted lips as purple lightning played over his fingers. "As you wish, my Master." There was no point in arguing further with a man who could turn him into cinders with the blink of one of those eyebrows.
"And Garrus..." Another sigh. "Stop pouting. It is unbecoming of one of your status."
"It's simple really. You go to Sandpoint. You keep an eye on the Lonjiku family. Make sure they don't have any aspirations of returning home. If they do, you stop them and tell me. For all that, I make sure your family remains in favor here in Minkai. It is an even trade, I think." The speaker seemed sure of himself, though not so sure of his foreign accented Minkaian. That and he was speaking through some sort of magical vision. This wasn't new to Jigoro. This is how all Jonin spoke to the Genin in his clan. That or through the Chunin. Which was usually worse.
He bowed to the vision. His sense of duty to clan and family overtaking his misgivings about the whole deal. The man had an air of deceit that stank all the way through the magical light. Yet, it was the Bunkai way of life. Deceit, treachery, misdirection. Jonin-sama Buryo said so. For the betterment of all life, some must work in the shadows. Do things that most honorable men would not consider. The irony was not lost on Jigoro.
He spent the rest of the night meditating before finally falling into a fitful sleep. Sandpoint was a long ways away...
A young woman dressed in the blackest of robes entered a room lit only by a single candle that illuminated the face of a much older man in similar robes. Only the glint of silver embroidery betrayed the idea of lack of color. As the door closed behind her, a chill caressed its way up her spine and radiated to the very end of her limbs. She was used to these conditions, but the purpose of this meeting was new to her. The acolyte that retrieved her had a look of fear in his eyes that told her he had spoken with the Gravemaster himself. As she was about to...
"Come Prudii." The normally harsh voice of the great Gravemaster was replaced by someone that sounded more like a kindly grandfather. "Do not fear. Come closer." She did as she was commanded, almost as if she had no control of her body. Another wave of palpable cold touched the exposed flesh of her hand. She looked down and realized that the Gravemaster was holding it with his own. "You have done very well in your studies, my child. You have even surpassed those who chose to study with me. It is almost unfortunate that this day has come."
Prudii's question froze in her throat. A slow smile eerily crept it's way across the Gravemaster's thin pale lips. "It is the twentieth anniversary of the day I found you. Twenty years since you became my child. Now... Now it is time I let you go out and make your own way. I have just the place for you to start."
She was confused. "I.. I thought you would always keep me here. To learn by your side and take your place as Gravemaster some day."
The smile faded."My dear sweet Prudii, I have been Gravemaster for over five centuries. I have no intention of giving it up. If you truly want that, you will have to take it from me. I don't think you want to stand against your father and master. The one who took you in when no one else would. The one who taught you all the ways of the Lady of Graves herself. In that aspect, I have given you all you need to go and spread her word and touch. Go and be her instrument. So, I am sending you to Sandpoint. Pharasma has no presence there. Go and make her voice heard. Remind them who truly judges all. A carriage will take you there later this very night."
His voice at the end begged no questions, only obedience. It didn't take long for Prudii to gather her things and prepare to leave. She didn't have much to begin with. A small part of her felt an emotion build up deep inside, a strange sensation near her eyes made them begin to water. Brushing the feeling away, she entered the black carriage.
"You will be Gravemaster." A voice that sounded like the rasping of iron filled her mind. No sooner it was there, it was gone. So was the castle behind her. Sandpoint was her next stop.
"You are forsaken!", her father screamed at her. "Banished from my court! Never return until you are a true daughter of mine!" Tears welled up in her eyes and she opened her mouth to say something, but only silence came forth. Her aunt caught her from falling and with the help of others, whisked her away. Not just from court, but from the city, from the country, from her old life.
Now, Raven stood among the temple's pillars, each one carved with the likeness of those masters who have gone before. She wanted to be one of those some day. "Lady Arumina, you haven't come to morning feast. What troubles you?" Only one person still called her that, the aunt that took her away and gave her a new life and new purpose.
"Today's the day, isn't it?" A nod. "What if I'm not ready? What if I make a mistake or get caught or..or.. "
Her aunt's hand reached out to touch her shoulder. "You were more than ready when we left. The only thing that has changed is that you have trained to focus that readiness into something useful. It has not gone away, it is only more tempered."
Raven nodded in return, accepting of her aunt's wisdom.
"Besides, I have already secured someone to help you in Sandpoint. Her name is Sabyl Sorn. You will find her at the House of Blue Stones."
The rest of Raven's day was spent in silent contemplation of her journey ahead. Qadira was so far away now and wherever she was now, this temple, was her only home since. Now she was being made to walk the world, to learn all that she could experience before returning to a life of quiet contemplation. The thought was humbling to her..
21st Rova 4707, Fireday.
I spent the last week on the road and arriving this morning in Sandpoint, I felt no different. The place may as well have been a bump in the road for all it was. Someone told me that they are preparing for something called the Swallowtail Festival, something to celebrate Desna and her ascendance. I'm not much of a religious man myself, but maybe it will make this place more bearable, at least for a day or two.
I thanked the wagon driver, gathered my things and walked into town. I actually had a small laugh at the welcome sign. A small mirror with a sign that said: 'Welcome to Sandpoint, please see yourself as we see you.'
Quaint.
For such a small town, it seemed busy enough. Strangely, no one seemed worried about the dreaded Sandpoint Devil that I read so much about. Local legend gone wrong? Probably. The little reading I did do about this place explained to me that there was a Late Unpleasantness that still hangs like a haze over the town, but even with all that death, as is human nature, they've moved on.
I heard today was also the day for commemorating a new chapel that had been built to replace the one that burned down. Again, human nature at its finest. I sighed heavily as the first hour of my stay came to and end and I realized there would be many more like this. Apparently someone of my stature didn't seem out of place here. I have piled it away as something to question later. It would have to wait as it seems a large crowd was forming near a podium at the town square. With nothing better to do at the moment, I decided to go an check out what the commotion was about.
21st Rova 4707, continued..
As I approached the podium, a group of individuals had already stepped up on to the stage. I had each one pegged for their roles and I was mostly correct.
The first was Mayor Kendra Deverin. She was short of stature, but her clothes and surety belied a hidden strength. She had short reddish hair and blue eyes that seemed to take in everything all at once. Her welcoming speech seemed joyful and hopeful at the same time, as if she were expecting something to go wrong.
Sheriff Belor Hemlock was up next and his dour mood and matching speech about safety made me only note that he was of Shoanti descent and looked at everyone with a discerning eye.
Cyrdak Drokkus amused me with his self-proselytizing about his theater as if it were as big as the one in Magnimar. I did make note to see if I could catch Lissandra performing, as she was from Magnimar, as the man had mentioned.
After a joke about someone named Lonjiku, the priest of Desna for Sandpoint, one Abstalar Zantus, went on about the Goddess of Dreams for some time before announcing that a release was planned later in the day. I made a point to tell myself to come and see it. It was better than being bored to death.
I spent the rest of the day looking at some of the wares and sampling some of the foods that Sandpoint had to offer. Much of it was standard fare, but the pickled herring from The Hagfish seemed much to my taste. The stuff from the Rusty Dragon was exotic, but not something I would eat on a regular basis. Rumor has it that place is run by an ex-adventurer. I should have to talk to them sometime. It would wile away the time I suppose.
Before I knew it, the sun had started to set and some acolytes had wheeled in a wagon. The cloth covering it barely hid the hundreds of butterflies underneath. This must be the release Zantus spoke of.
A loud booming sound caught my attention and that of most of the crowd. Up on the podium was the priest again, telling the story of how a wounded Desna fell from the heavens and a blind monk helped her. If I had a gold crown for every story I've heard about gods falling from the heavens, well.. I probably would have someone else write this journal for me while I drink wine and laugh at deific clumsiness.
The butterflies were soon released into the sky, and the awestruck voices of townsfolk followed with them. I sighed, watching them all, holding my tongue in judgement. That was when everything fell apart...
A scream pierced the evening air, followed my more screaming and cries of alarm. In the din of it all, I also heard..singing.. I didn't understand the words, but the creatures that appeared from behind wagons and crates told me exactly what was going on. Small greenish gray things that were awkwardly misshapen humanoids, tiny bodies and overlarge heads with wide toothy mouths and beady eyes. Goblins. Foul beings with cruel senses of humor and no morals to speak of. They were attacking Sandpoint!
I barely had time to figure out what to do when I saw an arrow suddenly protruding from one of them. Someone was fighting back. As this was now going to be my home for a while, I felt duty bound to protect it. The goblin that had been struck busied itself trying to pull out the arrow, muttering some gibberish. I will have to learn their language someday, if only to be able to study them further. Attempting to capture one for just that purpose, I muttered a few Draconic words and a jet of ice launched from my outstretched hand towards that goblin. He must have seen it coming at the last moment because he nimbly dodged out of the way and into a barrel of pickles, knocking it over. A rain of frozen pickle juice was all he got for my effort.
My attention on him, I barely noticed the giant of a man pushing his way through the panicked crowd to bring a massive double ended bladed weapon to bear. The goblin he was attacking barely noticed as well, ducking a hair short enough to not lose his head to the one of those edges. This is where I got to see the purported great speed of goblins when angered. No sooner it had cleared the weapon, it was on the warrior, hacking at him with what looked like a piece of rusted steel. The goblin would soon learn to regret it, as the makeshift weapon got stuck in a wooden table. The man beast seemed to laugh at his opponent's misfortune.
It was then that I took note of Her. While not a tall young woman, or even remotely looking like the local wenches, her presence caught my eye in a way that I to this day can not describe properly. A robe of the purest black seemed to materialize from the crowd. I could barely hear Her voice or could tell She was even female until those delicate pale hands appeared from under the robe, pointing to one of the goblins, then to another. The first goblin stood stock still and then turned to face one of its brethren and charged to attack him, rather savagely. I could almost see the fear in the other one's eyes as he barely managed to fend of his brother.
As I turned to finish off the one I had knocked over, in a manner of speaking, I saw that he was barely beginning to stand when a foot came flying out of nowhere and destroyed the rest of the pickle barrel. It belonged to what I presumed was another warrior, who wasted no time in engaging the little pest in combat.
The goblin didn't hesitate either though and slashed at the pickle slayer with one of those rusty blades, hitting nothing but air. Their fight became a glint of steel and fists, feet and dust.
Having come to it's senses, the confused goblin ran after Her, but for all its work, accomplished nothing, as if She wasn't even there.
Seeing its companion fail, the oblivious goblin paid for its curiosity when that big shafted weapon swung in a large arc, nearly cutting him in two. Blood poured from the wound as the body slumped to the ground.
I ran over to the body to see if he was actually dead, and indeed he was. So much for him as a study candidate. Looking up at the brute that killed him, I got a tusked smile in answer as he turned to go towards the one fighting with Her. I raised an eyebrow at him as I noticed that one of his tusks was broken.
I picked up the weapon the goblin on the ground carried. I had hoped it would give me some insight to this attack later.
I looked up in time to watch a swift kick dispatch a goblin by cracking its jaw. I made a quick note in my head not to anger that warrior. I moved to check on that one and to my surprise, it was still breathing. I stayed by it to make sure no one would change that. The warrior standing above me removed her hood and shook out her long black braid. Her skin tone told me she was Keleshite. A thin smile formed on her lips as she and I realized at once that I was staring too long at her. "Sorry." was all I could muster.
The last goblin ducked as a round bladed weapon flew from the tusked man's hands, severing a tent tie and knocking over several crates. As if on cue, another arrow flew out of nowhere and embedded itself in a tent post, securing the tent in place.
Realizing it was outnumbered, the goblin began to retreat, running away towards another crowd of people. Arrows followed it, but it was gone.
As we looked for more goblins, we noticed the main fighting had already started moving away. Sheriff Belor ran up to us in a huff. "Thank you all for your help, but this isn't over. At least thirty goblins attacked tonight, if not more. I and the I'm sure the mayor would like to thank you personally after this is all said and done, but..." He wasn't able to finish when a plume of fire erupted nearby. Cursing, I left my prize and ran towards it. The others followed. It seemed we had formed a temporary band to help defend Sandpoint.
21st Rova 4707, continued, a minute later...
We collectively reached the source of the gout of flame, one of many lighting up the night. A few more goblins had decided to set a wagon alight and were dancing around to the tune of... well, she was singing. A rather disturbing looking goblin female cracking a whip and singing at the top of her lungs seemed to be driving the others to more and more daring antics.
The ghostly woman in black began muttering something as she started heading towards the singing goblin, sickle turning in her hands. Her voice was so calm and detached, it was eerie. I shook my head to refocus on the coming fight.
One of the other goblins decided to tangle with Her, deciding that he would light Her on fire. It waved the torch it had in its hand at Her, catching Her robe with it. It immediately caught flame. My eyes widening in horror, I vowed to myself that this goblin would be the first to die.
As I started towards him, the singing one had other plans for me. I heard the crack of her whip and suddenly I was on the hard ground. "Kill that one with the whip!", I yelled, hoping someone would be so kind as to do that, even as I felt the sting of bruises forming from my landing.
I watched as another of the foul creatures cackled at Her plight and decided to share in the fun, running after the Keleshite woman waving his own torch. She was able to bat the flaming stick away, but the goblin was undeterred.
Another of its companions charged at the big half breed with the broken tusk, the thoughts of its brethren's looming victory fresh in its head. It never even got near the giant man. One swift swing of that massive weapon of his and that goblin was down, allowing him to take of towards the chanter.
Shaking myself out of my daze, I blasted the one attacking Her with a burst of ice crystals, slowing it some. She took advantage of its momentary distraction and grabbed a hold of its arm. Blood started seeping out of its eyes and ears. I didn't know what I had just seen, but whatever it was worked, the goblin lied bleeding on the ground.
It was then I heard the chanting stop for a brief second as an arrow found itself buried in that one's chest. It staggered for a but, but forced more words out. These words didn't seem to affect the momentum of the half-orc's fury that was coming for her.
A cry of pain went up as I briefly glanced over and saw a goblin draw one of those rusty blades out and cut into the warrior woman's arm. She tried to retaliate, but the little thing was too fast.
I attempted to ice the chanter, but to no avail, she nimbly dodged the ice bolt and at the same time, the large blade coming for her head. She would take some teamwork to take down. "Concentrate on her! If we take her down, the rest should give up!" I wasn't sure, but it was my hope.
To be continued...
"Trying to deal with this one first!", the Keleshite woman yelled in return, emphasizing her words with a flash of fists and feet. I didn't think that goblins could be so quick, but it seemed the faster she went, the faster it went. She was ready for it's counter strike though and she was able to keep it from cutting her again.
Another arrow flew past the singing goblin, and this time I saw the shooter. A foreign man with dark hair and even darker clothing.
Something had to happen. I was seeing townsfolk still be chased by ever more goblins and the fires were spreading. Too many seconds had gone by. I gripped my staff and let my power flow into it. I stood, pointing it at the whip carrying goblin and the staff flew from my outstretched hand but she was faster, her whip striking it out of the air. Growling to myself, I caught it as it flew back to my hand. My old teacher's words of 'encouragement' starting to haunt me.
She backtracked away from me and the brute and I watched as the arrow that did hit her worked its way out of her wound and drop to the ground. Desperate sweat began to form on my brow, though it could have been the heat from the nearby fires.
She didn't get far though. Suddenly the brute dropped his heavy weapon and lunged for her, lifting her off the ground. The fear on her face was evident as he growled into it.
My eyes ticked over to watch the match between the other woman and her goblin twin. Seeing the effectiveness of grabbing the little things, she attempted the same thing. Though she caught hold of it, it used the closeness to its advantage and cut her deep across her belly. I cringed as I watched a crimson line form.
The bowman must have seen it too as he dropped his bow and ran straight towards them, a wickedly curved blade appearing from somewhere on him. I watched as the goblin struggled against the woman's grip as he saw the blade coming closer.
I could tell that my own will was failing me. I drew up the power for another blast of frozen air and it fizzled at the tips of my fingers. Cursing at myself more than anything, I watched as She came closer to the singer, almost gliding towards her and reached out a hand. A dark energy...crawled...from her arm and enveloped the creature. Even as fear threatened to take me, I even thought I saw it briefly touch the face of the one holding the chanter, who only squeezed tighter and punched its chest with a brutal looking set of blades on his glove. A look of surprise crossed her face as blood gurgled up from her mouth. She fumbled for something in one of her pockets and brought it out triumphantly.
Seeing what was happening to his leader, the other goblin redoubled his efforts and got free from the grip he was in and attempted to run away, but not before taking a hit from that sharp sword, sending a spray of blood into the night air. I sent my staff hurtling after him with no success. A dagger flew past him as well. He was getting away fast, but not fast enough. Both of them caught up to him and finished him off.
The chanter suddenly slipped out of the big one's grip, causing him to lose his balance temporarily, allowing her use what she had brought out, a potion of some kind. Her wounds began to close up again...
I let out an audible sigh of disappointment as I called on the power stored in my staff and sent it towards her. She was suddenly struck dumb and couldn't seem to decide what to do next. I knew the magic wouldn't last long. "Now's your chance, finish her off."
"We're trying!", came the reply. The effort was there, but this goblin was a tough customer. I was going to have to take this one and study it. The only thing was, we had to stop her first. Another bolt of ice, another miss.
Joining the fray, the bare handed fighter leaped into the air, connecting with her foot in the fleeing creatures face.
A scuffle ensues and finally a blow from the half-orc takes her down. All of us breathed a sigh of relief, but the sight of Father Zantus running over to us told us what we already knew, the fight was far from over.
"Are any of you injured?", he said without skipping a beat. I watched as he called upon Erastus, god of community, to see to the wounds of the two women. A strange electrical arc occurred when he touched Her wounds, but they closed just the same. I would have to ask her about that later. "I would know all of your names, but as you can see, we are still dealing with this invasion in the other parts of town." I nodded, and the others seemed in agreement. All but Her. I watched as she calmly went over to each goblin and knelt over them. A shudder came over their bodies when I realized what she was doing. "Stop that!", I yelled. She looked up. The others turned to look. "She's killing them!"
The very large half-orc gripped his heavy axe and gave me the strangest look. "And?"
"I need to study them...or at least that one.", I pointed to the chanter.
"Then she is your responsibility," he said.
Sighing, I went over to her to see if I could treat her wounds. Surprisingly, She came over as well. "Prudii. It seems you have a purpose in your studies for you to defend it so passionately." I barely understood her words with the hauntingly beautiful sound they made.
"Garrus...", I managed. Prudii worked at the goblins wounds as if she were an expert in goblin physiology. I was intrigued.
"She'll live. For now. I do hope you find what you seek in studying her." The dark woman stood and headed towards Zantus.
"Father, if I may implore you to not let the town guards kill this one? We may have use for her." He nodded as he directed an acolyte to tie her up.
The big one shook his head. I put out my hand. "Garrus."
"I can hear. I can also hear more just like that one." I understood what he meant. As if to emphasize his warning, a sharp scream went up and I thought I heard a dog barking rather angrily.
"That came from the church!" Zantus exclaimed.
I knew what had to be done.