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Hey everyone - I am about to begin a new Carrion Crown Adventure. I'm playing with a group of people I don't know - but they all know each other, and our Session Zero went well, so I am optimistic!
I've put some of CC into a mash-up campaign that I'm running, but this one is pure Ustilavian Goodness.
We're playing over Roll20 and Discord. That will make some of the horror feels difficult to convey, but we'll do what we can. For maps I'm using things posted here (and a couple of other blogs I've found) or screen captures from the modules.
There's a TON of good stuff on these boards, and I have stolen massive amounts of content and good ideas from other posts. If I've used something of yours please let me know so I can give you credit - at this point I have too many files on my desktop to know where I cribbed things from. And of course - if you find any errors or typos they are certainly mine!
Okay. The three main things I want to change in Haunting of Harrowstone are: the Big Bad needs to appear sooner; all the five are males; and the party and I dislike all the fiddly Pathfinder systems (like trust points and research).
I don't think I've spoiled anything, for reals, yet. But every post after this will be MAD spoilers.
I'll post the stuff I've got to change in posts after this. If you are a player - c'mon! I guarantee you'll have more fun if you go in without reading any posts about GMing this Path.
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Right. There Be SPOYLERS Ahead Mateys! Be Thou warned.
Most of the extra systems I've seen in APs seem to gamify things too much.
I know, I know. We ARE playing a game! Gamifying's the point! Hit points and magic are already gamified...
But I'd rather keep the bulk of the rules for the combats, and let the rest just happen. So Ravengro's cold and unaccepting of strangers - that'll come out in the first encounter, and random interactions with NPCs, if my players do such things.
The research rules seem better - but still a lot of system stuff that could just be simplified.
I want them to feel time pressure, like they have agency for what information they receive, and make it streamlined and fun. I also want them to get some extra cash, because the first couple of APs are a bit light there I think.
So! After the funeral, Kendra wants to sell her house, and her father's libraries. The party has a month in town.
Each day, a PC can (choose two):
Sort / research Petros’ files notes and books (Harrowstone or W Way) Roll Knowledge, get 0/1 pieces info, improve value of library
Research in town (City Hall, Temple) (Harrowstone, W Way, Prisoners)
Roll Knowledge, get 1/2 pieces info
Construction / prep of Lorrimor house (Craft/Profession, K Engineering, ST, CH, DX)
Patrol town: investigate and talk to townsfolk
Make a check (Survival, Diplomacy, Perform, CH, WS)
Other: Craft, Profession, Perform, ??
Each day of work done on Kendra’s house increases party’s take by 25/50 gp (in Lep)
Each day of work done on the Library increases value by 10/50 gp (in Lep)
Each day of Other work done gains 5/20 gp income right away
If they want to research at the Temple or City Hall they need to ask someone and play it out (or roll some Diplomacy / Bluff checks, I suppose). I've broken down a few different people's research ideas and I plan to dole it out bit by bit.
The haunts will start right away; letters over three weeks, and a variety of other creepy things. Some of the haunts will just happen to them, but others will be triggered by their actions (if everyone researches, they won't encounter the stuff that happens at the tavern or on the streets.)
I'll post google docs with (a) the research items and (b) haunt ideas soon. I initially had a 30-day timeline planned out but I think it's better to keep it more flexible depending on what resonates with this party.
Two final notes, and these need spoilers, I think:
It also depends on how the party resonates with Kendra. I plan to use the letters from A.A. in some way, too.
Father Charlatan and the Splatter Man have a male identifier right in their names, so that might be too much to change easily. Looking around the internet, the Piper's pictures don't seem very gendered, and I liked the Marauder's pictures better than the Lopper's, so I decided to keep the Marauder with the same pronouns, give the Piper she/her/hers pronouns, and the Lopper they/them/their pronouns. I expect I'll be able to find some spooky picture to give my players for Mx. Lopper.
I also changed the Lopper's name to Tere Saetressle. You'll see when I post the research and the Haunts and all.
This party might not notice or care, actually, but it's these little details that I find important.
Ooh, I like your idea for varying up the genders of the big 5 haunts. I tend to do similar with giving my mooks explicitly variable pronouns, which I know at least one of my players definitely appreciates.
We had the first three sessions - session 0, then the funeral and Ravengro, then the prison.
Spoilers, I guess? This is all spoilers all the way down.
The first actual session was meh. We're all figuring each other out. I'm glad the party's got history together, and I'm getting a sense for what works and what doesn't. The first session was Ravengro RP, and there was a lot of awkward silences. It's over Discord and Roll20, and they'd played the first module before, so maybe that's part of it - but I think action's better than talky-talky. We were also down a player, so things felt off for everyone, I think.
So - all that stuff, in my second post? Forget that. Too much structure and not much fun. So then the second session went much better. We skipped the rest of the in-town haunts and stuff (there wasn't any town meeting, for instance) and just went right into it. A lot more fun, and we had some spooky times and some combat times. Whee!
I'm running a mashup of other APs - the Runelords trilogy, and WotR, mostly - and that party is 17th level and 7th tier. They just killed the Big Bad from Book 5 of WotR and that combat took four hours. It's fun and all seeing what all the high level spells and powers are like - but it's a better fun to have an AC 16 skeleton that is +1 TH and does d6+1 damage. You know?
Anyway. I'll post in the next few posts - behind spoilers - the stuff I send out to them. We just bypassed all the in-town haunts and all, and the stuff about Trust Points and Research, to get into the action. If I had a face-to-face table I'd play out and play up the in-town haunts and make them do research, but with this online campaign I think it works better to let Roll20 and combat be our time together, and do the research and RP stuff between sessions and over Discord and all.
And geez - I used to have all this baggage about identifying items, and sellling / buying stuff, you know? Like, cards to describe the items and all and what they'd get with successive Identify spells. Yikes, I say, looking back.
Now after the session's over I just post the treasure list to a discord channel, tell them to look up the prices and halve that for the sell value, and then figure it out before the next session. Easier, and more fun! When I worry about realism or immersion I remind myself about 'hit points' or 'saving throws' and I allow myself to move on.
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Thanks for the shout-back, Sibelius! I dunno how woke it is to ask, "Well, why CAN'T the serial killer be non-binary?" But that might be a Very Strange Sentence to write, all in all.
Anyway.
My party is thusly:
Hjorn, Dwarf Cleric. The least-weird PC in the party. You'll see. Originally a Cleric of Abadar, that wasn't working for the player (too much insistence on following the laws) so now a priest of some Azlanti god. Has done the most hp damage to monsters so far, but not by a large margin - which the player was worried about, being a cleric and all.
Bonnie, Minotaur Paladin (tortured crusader). Chonky and tanky, has so far taken twice as many hp damage as the rest of the party put together. Seven feet tall so the RP in Ravengro was REAL easy to play out. "No, ma'am, I don't want any trouble here."
Stigs, Goblin Wizard. Has some strange archetypes that seem overpowered but, whatever, they also seem fun. The player speaks in an accent like an elderly goblin when talking in character, and is in charge of half of the puns at the table.
Cedar, Ghoran Bard. Do you know what the Ghoran race is? I'll give you a minute to google it.
Yes.
One of the racial features is 'Delicious'.
This player is in charge of the rest of the puns.
All in all I'm having a blast with this party!
Okay. Here's a spoiler:
(The following is read by Councilor Vashian Hearthmount)
“I, Petros Lorrimor, being of sound mind, do hereby commit to this parchment my last will and testament.
“Let it be known that, with the exception of the specific details below, I leave my home and personal belongings entire to my daughter Kendra. Use them or sell them as you see fit, my child. I have spoken to Vauran Grimburrow about my library, and Gharen Muricar about the house if you should choose to sell either of those things. They will contact you soon, Kendra, if they have not yet done so.
“Yet beyond the bequeathing of my personal effects, this document must serve other needs. I have arranged for the reading of this document to be delayed until all principals can be in attendance, for I have more than mere inheritance to apportion.
“First, to my former student and colleague Adivion Adrissant: an exhortation to continue the investigations into and, hopefully, interference with, our old enemy. The phrase ‘Cryptos Noctis Abhorrence’ will allow you access to the library of which we spoke last Spring; use it wisely, old friend.
(At this, Councilman Vashian hands Adivion a small wooden box bound in a strange dark metal. “The instructions, Dr. Adrissant, are that you open the box when you are alone.”)
(Councilor Hearthmount continues to read the will.)
“To my old friends Bonnie, Cedar, Hjorn, and Stig: I hate to impose upon you all, but there are few others who are capable of appreciating the true significance of what it is I have to ask. As some of you know, I have devoted many of my studies to all manner of evil, that I might know the enemy and inform those better positioned to stand against it. For knowledge of one’s enemy is the surest path to victory over its plans.
“And so, over the course of my lifetime, I have seen fit to acquire a significant collection of valuable but dangerous tomes, any one of which in the wrong circumstances could have led to an awkward legal situation. While the majority of these tomes remain safe under lock and key at the Lepidstadt University, I fear that a few I have borrowed remain in a trunk here in my Ravengro home. While invaluable for my work in life, in death I would prefer not to burden my daughter with the darker side of my profession, or worse still, the danger of possessing these tomes herself. As such, I am entrusting this chest of tomes to you, posthumously. I ask that you please deliver the collection to my colleagues at the University of Lepidstadt, who will put them to good use for the betterment of the cause.
(At this point Vashian lifts a small chest and places it on the desk, sliding it away from himself.)
“Yet before you leave for Lepidstadt, there is the matter of another favor—please delay your journey one month and spend that period of time here in Ravengro to ensure that my daughter is safe and sound. She has no one to count on now that I am gone, and if you would aid her in setting things in order for whatever she desires over the course of this month, you would have my eternal gratitude. From my savings, I have also willed to each of you a sum of one hundred platinum coins. For safekeeping, I have left these funds with Embreth Daramid, one of my most trusted friends in Lepidstadt—she has been instructed to issue this payment upon the safe delivery of the borrowed tomes no sooner than one month after the date of the reading of this will.
“I, Petros Lorrimor, hereby sign this will in Ravengro on this first day of October, in the year 4711. (with Petros Lorriomor’s signature, witnessed by Jominda Fallenbridge and Benjan Caeller).
The chest
The chest itself is a relatively small object of oak and iron. Within are several old tomes, and one relatively new one.
The newest tome sits on the top and bears the phrase “Read me now!” scratched into the leather cover.
The other tomes comprise the books of dangerous lore mentioned in his will—three of these have notes tucked into them indicating that they should be delivered to one Montagnie Crowl, a professor of antiquities at Lepidstadt University.
The fourth, The Manual of the Order of the Palatine Eye, is bound in iron and locked. It has a note attached, indicating it should be delivered to Embreth Daramid, a judge at the Lepidstadt Courthouse (although the note asks for this delivery in particular to be handled discreetly, and includes the address of Embreth’s home so that the PCs can deliver it there).
These books are summarized below:
Manual of the Order of the Palatine Eye: The rich purple cover contains a brass scarab set with a single eye in its center. The book’s covers are rimmed in polished steel and clasped with a small but intricate lock, the keyhole of which appears to be for a key with a strange, triangular shaft.
On Verified Madness: This jet-black book is a treatise on aberrations and other entities found on Golarion that possess remote ties to the Dark Tapestry, the name given to the dark places between the stars in the night sky. You cannot read more than a page or two of this squamous text at a time. It is both too heavy and too light for its size and shape and you do not like this book at all.
Serving Your Hunger: This text is a copy of one of several unholy books sacred to the goddess Urgathoa. Lorrimor’s notations liberally sprinkle the margins. Urgathoa is the mother of the Undead, and Her book is unsettling to read. Perusing the pages for more than a few minutes leaves you feeling squalid and greasy – but under your skin, in a manner that cannot be washed away. It is not a pleasant book to read.
The Umbral Leaves: This lexicon is a translation into Common of the unholy book of Zon-Kuthon. The major theme seems to be that mortal flesh is unclean, and the way to holiness is through extreme abrogation of the flesh via pain and distress. What is most disturbing about this book is how it resonates with you – after reading a passage you find yourself nodding along and thinking, “oh yes – I understand that.”
The Professor’s Journal: The professor’s will does not mention his journal—it is not one of the dangerous tomes he wants delivered to Lepidstadt. The majority of the entries are relatively bland, accounting for day-to-day activities in a small town. The professor has circled several entries in the book with red ink, however:
12th August, 4701 (10 years ago)
My research is progressing well. I recently met with a Holy Warrior who claims to have rescued an individual who had the blood of the undead flowing in his veins. The individual also claimed to have been tortured and was the subject of strange rituals conducted upon him by a group of men who were part of a sect of The Whispering Way. It would appear that my assumptions were correct and that The Whispering Way is more than just a cabal of necromancers. I see that now. Undeath is their fountain of youth. Uncovering their motivation does not place me at ease as I thought it might. Their desire to be eternal simply makes them more dangerous.
27th July 4711 (Current Year)
My research into the Whispering Way continues, alas somewhat in vein. The trail that I began to follow almost a decade ago now has grown cold. I have spoken with many individuals over this time, hoping to find another piece to this puzzle, but nothing. Since moving to this quiet hamlet, I realize that Kendra does not understand how important this is to me. As I prepare to close the book on this misadventure, and ready myself to live out my days here, I received a letter from Adivion about the Whispering Way. As I read this missive, I realize it is as I had feared. The Way is interested in something here in Sandpoint. But what could it be?
24th September, 4711 (Current Year)
Whatever the Way seeks, I am now convinced their goal is connected to Harrowstone. In retrospect, I suppose it all makes sense – the few stories they tell about the ruins in town are certainly chilling enough. It may be time to investigate the ruins, but with its reputation I’d rather not let the others know about my curiosity – there’s plenty of folks hereabouts who already think I’m a demonologist or a witch or something.
3rd October, 4711 (Current Year)
It is confirmed. The Way seems quite interested in something – no, strike that – someone who was held in Harrowstone. But who, specifically, is the Way after? I need a list of everyone who died the night of the fire. The list must include everyone, not just inmates, but wardens and visitors. There must be a connection. Perhaps someone here – a clerk in the sheriff’s office? a novice in the new temple? - must have such a list. I just hope they trust me enough to allow me into their library
5th October, 4711 (Current Year)
I see now just how ill prepared I was when I last set out for the Harrowstone. I am lucky to have returned at all. The ghosts, if indeed they were ghosts (for I did not find it prudent to investigate further) prevented me from transcribing the strange symbols I found etched along the foundation – hopefully on my next visit I will be more prepared. Thankfully, the necessary tools to defend against spirits are already here in Sandpoint. I know that the Pharasmans used to secretly store them in a false crypt in the Boneyard. I am not certain if the current clergy even know of what their predecessors have hidden down below. If my luck holds, I should be able to slip in and out with a few borrowed items
8th October, 4707 (Current Year)
Tomorrow evening I return to the prison. It is imperative the Way does not finish whatever it is that they have started. My caution has already cost me too much time. I am not sure what will happen if I am too late, but if my theory is right, the entire town could be at risk. I don’t have time to update my will, so I’ll leave this in the chest where it’ll be sure to be found, should the worst come to pass. There are too many things at stake here and I hope Kendra will understand the sacrifice I have made.
The final entry was written on the day that the Professor’s body was found.
I'm posting all my materials here in Spoilers instead of Google Doc links or whatever, because I've been saddened by so many forum links being down.
My stuff here is almost entirely from other people so PLEASE go ahead and use / alter / ignore as you like! If I've used your stuff without giving you a shout-out please let me know and I'll credit you - I have so many weird files from good stuff here that I don't know who to attribute anything to anymore.
So this next spoiler is the research that I gave my party - maybe your group is super into the tracking down info at the library and temple and what-not, but maybe it's more fun to do this away from the roll20 meetings and just say 'okay - you do research, and you find this stuff out.'
When I ran this stuff in a face-to-face group, I played music, turned off the lights and had candles, and hit them with haunts. They got second level after the third session, and were WICKED creeped out when they stood at the Prison's gates. I'm not sure how to do that in our online play now, and the action's more fun anyway.
For this group, we got 2nd level after the first session and got right into the Haunted Prison, where the action is.
Hey - I'm making changes to the AP and my GM style, but I am certainly not complaining. I live in Portland OR, and the players are all in other time zones. And yet, here we are, connecting and having fun over the internet! We are trailblazers for this Brave New World. The 'Community' part of Community, Identity, Stability, mostly. But with magic and monsters!
Anyway. Here's the research stuff I sent the party.
Research results
Harrowstone
Harrowstone is a ruined prison— partially destroyed by a fire in 4661, the building has stood vacant ever since. The locals suspect that it’s haunted, and don’t enjoy speaking of the place.
Harrowstone was built in 4594. Ravengro was founded at the same time as a place where guards and their families could live and that would produce food and other supplies used by the prison.
Originally, Harrowstone housed only local criminals, but as the prison’s fame spread, other counties and distant lands began paying to have more dangerous criminals housed within this prison’s walls.
At the time of the great Harrowstone Fire, the number of particularly violent or dangerous criminals imprisoned within the dungeons below was at an all-time high.
The five most notorious prisoners in Harrowstone at the time of the great fire were Father Charlatan, the Lopper, the Mosswater Marauder, the Piper of Illlmarsh, and the Splatter Man.
The fire that killed all of the prisoners and most of the guards in Harrowstone Prison destroyed a large portion of the prison’s underground eastern wing, but left most of the stone structure above relatively intact.
Harrowstone prison’s warden perished in the fire, along with his wife, although no one knows why she was in the prison when the fire occurred.
A statue commemorating the warden and the guards who lost their lives in the Harrowstone prison fire was built in the months after the tragedy—that statue still stands on the riverbank just outside of town.
Most of the hardened criminals sent to Harrowstone spent only a few months imprisoned, for it was here that most of Ustalav’s executions during that era were carried out.
The fire that caused the tragedy in Harrowstone was, in fact, a blessing in disguise, for the prisoners had rioted and gained control of the prison’s dungeons immediately prior to the conflagration.
It was only through the self sacrifice of Warden Hawkran and 23 of his guards that the prisoners were prevented from escaping Harrowstone — the guards gave their lives to save the town of Ravengro.
At the time Harrowstone burned, five particularly notorious criminals had recently arrived at the prison.
While the commonly held belief is that the tragic fire in Harrowstone prison began accidentally after the riot began, in fact the prisoners had already seized control of the dungeon and had been in command of the lower level for several hours before the fire.
Warden Hawkran triggered a deadfall in Harrowstone prison to seal the rioting prisoners in the lower level, but in so doing trapped himself and nearly two dozen guards.
The prisoners in Harrowstone were in the process of escaping when the panicked guards on the main level accidentally started the fires that destroyed the Warden and his wife, the rioting prisoners, and ultimately the prison itself.
Whispering Way
The Whispering Way is a sinister organization of necromancers that has been active in the Inner Sea region for thousands of years.
Agents of the Whispering Way often seek alliances with undead creatures, or are themselves undead.
The Whispering Way’s most notorious member was Tar-Baphon, the Whispering Tyrant, although the society itself has existed much longer than even that mighty necromancer.
The Whispering Way itself is a series of philosophies that can only be transferred via whispers— the philosophies are never written or spoken of loudly, making the exact goals and nature of the secretive philosophy difficult for outsiders to learn much about.
Exact details on the society are difficult to discern, but chief among the Whispering Way’s goals are discovering formulae for creating liches and engineering the release of the Whispering Tyrant.
Agents of the Whispering Way often travel to remote sites or areas plagued by notorious haunts or undead menaces to perform field research or even to capture unique monsters.
The symbol of the Whispering Way is a gagged skull, and those who learn too many of the Way’s secrets are often murdered, and their mouths mutilated to prevent their bodies from divulging secrets via speak with dead.
Five Prisoners
Father Charlatan (Sefick Corvin) Of the five notorious prisoners, only Father Charlatan was not technically a murderer, yet his crimes were so blasphemous that several churches demanded he be punished to the full extent of Ustalavic law. Although he claimed to be an ordained priest of any number of faiths, Father Corvin was in fact a traveling con artist who used faith as a mask and a means to bilk the faithful out of money in payment for false miracles or cures. He became known as Father Charlatan after his scheme was exposed and his Sczarni accomplices murdered a half-dozen city guards in an attempt to make good the group’s escape.
The Lopper (Tere Saetressle): When the Lopper stalked prey, they would hide in the most unlikely of places, sometimes for days upon end with only a few supplies to keep them going while they waited for the exact right moment to strike. Once their target was alone, the Lopper would emerge to savagely behead their victim with a handaxe. It is unclear how many victims the Lopper claimed; the courts were able to definitively prove eight but it is likely that the tally was much higher.
The Mosswater Marauder (Ispin Onyxcudgel): Only 5 years before his hometown of Mosswater was destined to be overrun and ruined by monsters from the nearby river, Ispin Onyxcudgel was a well-liked artisan and a doting husband. When he discovered his wife’s infidelity, he flew into a jealous rage and struck her dead with his hammer, shattering her skull and his sanity with one murderous blow. Wracked with shame and guilt, Ispin became convinced that if he could rebuild his wife’s skull she would come back to life—but unfortunately, he could not find the last blade-shaped fragment from the murder site. So instead, Ispin became the Mosswater Marauder. Over the course of several weeks, the cunning dwarf stalked and murdered nearly 20 people while searching for just the right skull fragment. He was captured just before murdering the daughter of a visiting nobleman from Varno, and was carted off to Harrowstone that same night.
The Piper of Illmarsh (real name unknown): Before she snatched her victims, the Piper taunted her targets with a mournful dirge on her flute. She preferred to paralyze lone victims by dosing their meals with lich dust and then allowing her pet stirges to drink the victims dry of blood.
The Splatter Man (Hean Feramin): Professor Feramin was a celebrated scholar of Anthroponomastics (the study of personal names and their origins) at the Quartrefaux Archives in Caliphas. Yet an accidental association with a succubus twisted and warped his study, turning it into an obsession. Feramin became obsessed with the power of a name and how he could use it to terrify and control. Soon enough, he’d developed an uncontrollable obsession with an imaginary link between a person’s name and what happens to that name when the person dies. Every few days, he would secretly arrange for his victim to find a letter from her name written in blood, perhaps smeared on a wall or spelled out with carefully arranged entrails. Once he had spelled his victim’s name, he would at last come for her, killing her in a gory mess using a complex trap or series of rigged events meant to look like an accident.
We started in Golarion Oct 26, 4711. I can't keep track of Pathfinder months so I just use our Calendar for the names of the months.
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Just a couple more posts here today. It's Nov 8 2020 and so - hello people of the future! We have just had a very tense election cycle for US president and I am still feeling emotionally fragile. I am glad to have the rich Golarion fantasy world to distract me from politics.
Spoilers? Yes. Spoilers ahead. Be thou warned!
The most recent session was the main floor of Harrowstone. The next one will be the upper floor and part of the lower, and the one after that will be the rest of the lower floor and then the trip from Ravengro to Lepidstadt.
I posted a set of dreams they had before going to Harrowstone, which I took almost verbatim from a post on these forums. If it was yours - thanks! If not - any errors are probably mine, from editing to fit my ideas about this campaign.
It's dark. If you're looking at Carrion Crown, though... I mean, are you expecting Magical Kitten Adventures?
Dream:
The dream starts with her face. A beautiful strong face, the face of a good wife, of a good friend. A feeling of love tinged with longing – and something more, a feeling of being … unworthy. Something broken inside of you. Something jealous and ugly.
Something that finds problems even if none might exist. That manufactures reasons to be jealous – an itch that overpowers your vision. A part of you knows this is untrue but it is hard – so hard! – to bite back on these dark broodings.
You are clearly not worthy of love – not worthy of her. You cannot, of course, provide what she needs; your heart is too broken and bitter for her.
She must be finding her comfort elsewhere. You can tell. Her secret glances away from you over dinner – her sighs when she thinks you are not watching her. The slight pause before she says “I love you too”.
She was late in returning that night. Her eyes were afraid – your angry confrontation was clearly not enough to provoke such a response; there is certainly more to her protestations and denials. She lied about visiting her sister! Obviously, she was in the arms of her lover!
The hammer is in your hand between the time when you called her a harlot and when she re-laced her boots. Her sobs feel like ashes in your ears.
The hammer is in your hand, as she turns away from you.
Dream:
A fireplace warmly illuminates an old woman's humble cabin. The wind whipping the waters of Avalon Bay can be faintly heard in the background.
Two little children, a boy and a girl, are sitting around the fireplace with their grandmother. "Please, Grammy, tell us the tale of the Piper again! Please!"
The old woman chuckles as she rocks back and forth in her rocking chair. "Alright, alright, my little sticklebacks."
She leans forward and turns away from the fire, eerily casting her face in shadow.
"You better be good, because the Piper is going around Illmarsh! If you have been naughty, you may hear her flute at night, playing a sad melody just for you. And then, one night, you fall asleep after dinner, and when you wake up..." She pauses for dramatic effect and then suddenly slams her hand on the armrest of her rocking chair and yells:
"...you look down and you see her pet stirges drinking your blood!"
The children wince at the sudden outburst and then laugh nervously. They jump up and run up to their grandmother. Their webbed hands hug her hard and tight, the kind of hugs that only children can give their treasured Gram.
In the distance, the howling of the wind almost sounds like a sad song.
The Dream:
The wind of change is blowing through the county of Canterwall. People talk about independence from their hereditary noble family more and more openly. While the revolutionary spirit has not yet reached critical mass and probably will not for a couple of years more, the people of Tamrivena have started to realize that there may be alternatives to their current rulers.
The cobbled stones of the large town's market square are hardly visible because of the crowd. A hunchbacked man, dressed in blue and white clerical vestments embroidered with Desna's butterfly symbol, swings his shepherd's staff for emphasis as he preaches to the gathered townsfolk:
"And see, as it is written in the Eight Scrolls, man was created to be free, but man has to create his own freedom. And as you strive to throw off your worldly shackles, you need to break the chains of your soul. For only a free spirit can soar like a butterfly!"
The sermon is well-received as it touches some of the current sentiments with skillful precision.
The travelling preacher goes on for a little longer and then states: "...and thus you shall maketh your own destiny. For only 15 gold pieces the smile of Lady Luck can be bestowed upon you in the form of this divinely blessed ointment. 'tis but a small price to pay for your soul's salvation in these trying times!"
The preacher has captured some of his listeners with his sing-song sermon and several of the townspeople start pushing towards the group of cowled men that have set up a folding table with their relics for sale near the preacher's portable pulpit.
Suddenly a farmer yells from among the crowd: "Oh give us a break, 'Father Charlatan'. I just saw you a couple of days ago in Lepidstadt, except you were a Pharasmin then and sold that damn grease as a divine wrinkle cream to my wife! She's been smelling like cabbage ever since." Several people in the crowd chuckle at the thought.
The hunchbacked preacher's face freezes and he gestures to one of his acolytes. "Oh, no, no, you must be mistaken. I am Sefick Corvin, you must have met my brother Levin. He has truly fallen from grace. I am so sorry for your loss! Please let my acolyte reimburse you for my brother's false cure."
The acolyte makes his way over to the man and smiles at him, revealing a golden tooth. "Please, take me to your home and give me the salve, and I will reimburse you right away." The man grumbles, then shrugs and leaves with the acolytes. As the crowd starts to disperse, a few people buy the priest's miracle cure.
Hours later, down the road, the acolyte returns, alone. As he falls into step with the now sour-looking preacher, he nods almost imperceptibly. The preacher smiles fiendishly.
They walk down the road to the next town, the acolyte cleaning dried blood from his knife.
Dream:
Lepidstadt, 4661 AR. A courtroom, the gallery filled with curious citizens, rumbling and mumbling, every now and then pointing with fearsome delight to the calm and haggard-looking person sitting alone beyond the bar. Even the jury cannot hide their disgusted fascination with the accused. The Lopper grins wickedly and stares blankly ahead at the empty bench.
"Rise for Justiciar Axenris the Third!"
As the crowd stands up, the elderly judge enters through a side entrance and walks straight to his bench, avoiding eye contact with the accused. The justiciar takes his seat and begins rifling through some documents.
"Tere Saetressle, you are..."
The bald person interrupts, their words pressed through their toothy grin in a calm voice: "Please, call me Lopper."
"Silence!" the judge exclaims forcefully. "Tere Saetressle. You have been found guilty by a jury of your peers of stalking and savagely beheading at least 8 innocent people."
The crowd erupts in gasps of horror and rage at the reminder of the Lopper's deeds and is only calmed down when Justiciar Axenris starts banging his gavel.
"Order, order in the courtroom!
Tere Saetressle, you are hereby sentenced to live the remainder of your short life in Harrowstone, which, I hasten to add, is a blessing compared to the extent of your crimes and the suffering of your victims. There you will reside in the misery of your thoughts until such time as you are drawn, hanged, and quartered. May the gods have no mercy on your blighted soul."
As the judge gets up and leaves, the crowd erupts once more, this time in cheer and mockery of the Lopper. The accused, however, does not even flinch. They just sit. And they stare.
You can feel The Lopper’s eye turn to you. They make eye contact with you, looking directly at you. Directly into you.
The Lopper grins at you. You wake up in a sweat, haunted by the memory of that grin.
Dream:
The door to the cramped office in the Quartrefaux Archives, Caliphas’ famous academy for young nobles and home to the royal collection of artifacts and documents, says 'Professor Hean Feramin, Head of Anthroponomastics'.
Inside, only a narrow path from the door to the desk is not covered in books, scrolls, parchment, and various types of writing equipment. Motes of dust dance in the sallow light falling in through the shuttered window. It smells of strong tea, paper, ink, and iron.
The professor, an elderly and polite gentleman, sits at his desk in a high-backed chair worn down by countless hours of study. Across from him, an elven man wearing a black deerstalker hat and a gray casual suit listens intently to the professor's elaborations, a very faint smile on his face.
"Forgive me, Professor Feramin, if I have to interrupt you," the elf says politely. "I know you are truly a luminary in the field of the origins and study of names. But why, in your expert opinion, would a serial killer go through the troubles of spelling their victims' names out in letters to them? Each letter written in blood or entrails, no less." He gets up from the visitor's chair and walks over to bookshelf bursting with tomes and scrolls. "And all that work, just to kill the victim afterwards in a trap as gruesome as it is ingenious." He casually scans the books as the professor replies:
"Hm. Interesting question. There could be many reasons. Maybe the killer enjoys the victim's agony. Maybe he wants them to live in constant dread of finding a letter, ticking down the countdown to the inevitable one letter at a time. Maybe the blood has some occult importance. You know, one of my graduate students, has posited a fascinating theory on a new type of magic powered by emotional components. I think, I have his paper somewhere around here... Lorrimor, Lorrimor..."
He starts rifling through the myriad of papers on his desk.
"You have helped the Sleepless Agency a great deal in this investigation, Professor Feramin." The detective says, gently tapping the backs of the books one by one. "I wonder, was it all part of your game?"
He pulls on one of the books and all of a sudden, the entire bookshelf moves back and slides to the side, revealing a secret room filled with elaborate contraptions, traps, surgical tools, and a list of 27 bloody names hanging on the wall in the back.
The professor starts to panic as the secret door opens. His face, just moments ago a friendly mask of academic professionalism, turns into the grimace of a mad man.
As he jumps up from his chair, suddenly holding a serrated knife he pulled out from under the papers, the door bursts open and a squad of guardsmen storms the office, overpowering the professor within moments.
"Take him away, boys," the detective states as he adjusts his hat.
"Looks like the Splatter Man just got tenure at Harrowstone."
Personally, I will only play Magical Kitten Adventures if the 'Magic' part is about R'Lyeh.
So, okay. I'm posting this stuff because it's what I'd want to see for a jumping-off point, in our new online-campaign world. I have a blog somewhere here about my other campaign, but I don't have the energy to keep up on it right now.
These are to pay back the community for all the good stuff I'VE used from other posts - in my own little way. Thank you!
Before the Rona I was a player in two campaigns and a DM in another. Right around the time of Quarantine I got into a Starfinder campaign online - which was awesome, because one of the players moved a couple hours south, and another is on the East Coast.
Only one of them made it. Between schedules and the differences between online and in-person, we just couldn't.
We're still going strong in a weird mash-up thing I'm running, but I think that's mostly because we had a long history playing together - some of us for 30 years - and also because of the strength of the Paizo materials.
Not to divulge too much about myself but the first D&D game I played my character class was 'Elf'. I lost a friend in middle school because of Acererak and his horrible tomb. I say this because when I say Paizo's stuff is the BOMB, I mean it's strong enough so my friends and I want to see what happens next, enough to put up with all the bad things about online play.
Okay.
I put the furnace in the center, swapping it for where the Induction chamber should be. Furnaces seem like a central kind of thing, yes? At least two of my players said 'oh no a furnace' or something of the sort when I opened up the map for that corner area, where the furnace is in the AP, so I know I have to keep making changes as we move forward.
Bwa ha ha!
The furnace almost killed them. They've sold everything except the 5 artifacts for new healing potions, because of Ember Maw.
Bwa ha ha!
That's about it for changes, really. I upped the number of some monsters - skeletons and stirges and ectoplasmic humans (oh my) - because they've got a pretty buff party. But I didn't make TOO many changes. I was going to re-organize the whole dang basement, but then I thought - you know what? We're all stressed about the world right now. Maybe a comforting adventure into horror tropes is okay - maybe I should just swap a few rooms around but not make it TOO different. Like - maybe it's okay for the players to have read the modules, because there's the thrill of the unknown, but there's also being Heroes that defeat the Darkness, and having a good time with a group of friends.
Yes, I kept all of this in a spoiler.
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They got through the main floor of Harrowstone in one session, and then the top and most of the basement in the second.
Oh. Spoilers! Harrowstone has a basement. Is that really a spoiler, though? There's other spoilers ahead too.
Tomorrow they'll face the big-bad; the one with two parts. Don't want to give more than that away for now. I've also got a Clover's Crossing thing that I 'borrowed' from Rakshasa on a thread here called 'Clover's Crossing'. I've just finished adjusting the maps and populating the critters. I used a different, larger map for the basement of the church ('The Ashen Ossuary' in Roll20 from one of their free map packs).
I'll update everyone with how things go.
Three Spoilers this time:
The Paladin used the handaxe against the Lopper and now she can't use another weapon; the cleric used the hammer against MM and attacked his friends with it.
I'm still not sure what to do about FC - I didn't run the curse as written because we're remote, so I think I'm'a just hold onto this for sometime later. Bwa ha ha!
The Lopper's Handaxe. This acts as a +1 Ghost-Touch Handaxe. It's probably not cursed - I wouldn't worry too much about it.
The Lopper’s Handaxe This was confiscated from the Lopper when he was caught and I have stored it here for safe keeping. It appears to be a very basic handaxe of no special qualities. When the Lopper was brought to us, the axe was covered in the blood of his victims. I have had the axe cleaned and leave it here as such. Hopefully this small step will help give rest to the victims of this madman. - Lyvar Hawkran
. . . but you notice that the handaxe is anything but clean. It is covered in blood along the blade and even in hand prints on the handle. The blood appears wet, fresh even . . .
/////////////////////////
Father Charlatan's Holy Symbols
Gives +2 Luck Bonus to AC and all saves inside Harrowstone against haunts and visions. Again, it's almost certainly not cursed. Why would you think it would be?
From what I understand, “Father” Charlatan would select one of these holy symbols that would match the faith of his victims as proof of good intentions. I have untangled the fine silver chain and laid face up all of the holy symbols. Hopefully all of these dieties are offended by Charlatan’s actions and will provide us divine assistance in ensuring the good father’s years in Harrowstone in some way make up for the lives he destroyed. - Lyvar Hawkran
. . . but you notice the symbols are not laying face up, as the warden described. Instead they appear to be stuck together into one jumbled mess of metal, almost as if held by a powerful magnet. Further, the chain is a jumbled mess and probably would be extremely difficult to untangle . . .
//////////////////////////
Professor Hean Feramin's (The Splatter Man) Spellbook
Mold has destroyed most of the book’s contents, but nine spells do remain viable: comprehend languages, dispel magic, false life, gust of wind, illusory script, levitate, mage armor, magic missile, and summon monster IV.
I mean - sure. Okay. Sometimes - SOMEtimes - when you read through it your name is written in blood on one of the pages. It's not there when you turn the page and come back, though, so as far as curses go it's PROBABLY not the worst curse ever, right?
Right?
What item could mean more to a wizard than his spellbook, and here I place Feramin’s spellbook for hopefully eternal storage. The leather binding of this book, while surely worn and used often is so perfectly cared for. I can only assume all wizards go through such steps to protect their spells. I hazarded a glace through the book and while I certainly don’t understand what I see, there are dozens of pages of strange (I can only assume) magical script. - Lyvar Hawkran
. . . but the book is anything but pristine or well cared for. The years have certainly taken their toll on the tome as the leathery binding is cracking and the pages appeared frayed upon simple examination. Further, a strange black-green mold seems to lightly cover most of the thick book.
//////////////////////
Mosswater Marauder's Hammer
This is a smith's hammer, not a weapon. It gives +2 (competency) bonus to the kind of craft item checks that a good hammer would help with (so armor and weapons and jewelry yes - potions, not so much). You could use it as a light hammer in battle, if you needed to.
How can a tool used for delicate crafting be cursed? That idea is silly. Just because it was used for some horrible murders doesn't mean... oh, well, okay. Granted. But, it's a really nice hammer.
This is the hammer I am told the monster who became known as the Mosswater Marauder used to kill his victims. It seems so hard to believe, given the amazing lightness of this hammer - almost that of a craftsman, not a killer. - Lyvar Hawkran
//////////////////////
The Piper of Illmarsh's Silver Flute
It's a VERY nice flute. It's masterwork, and it just seems to fit well in your hands - the stops right under your fingers, a nice balance and heft, and it's - well, it's just a delight to hold. You want to play music for your friends, when you hold this flute.
This flute is so beautiful that it is hard to imagine it was used to cause such death. The silver is perfectly polished and the flute itself is clearly the work of a master craftsman. - Lyvar Hawkran
. . . but you notice the flute has tarnished over the years of neglect.
Hand Axe: +2 Ghost-Touch handaxe
Spellbook: a spellbook! Comprehend languages, dispel magic, false life, gust of wind, illusory script, levitate, mage armor, magic missile, and summon monster IV.
Flute: 1/wk casts Summon Nature’s Ally III which brings in d4+1 stirges (no other summons can be called by this flute).
Hammer: +2 to any crafting checks that a hammer might be used for; +1 light silvered hammer.
Chains: +1 to Will saves, +1 to DC of any Divine spells cast by the owner. Does not need to be worn, just somewhere in your gear.
They NOPED right out of the branding iron room, and I didn't use FC's haunt - other than that, it should be pretty clear which haunt goes where. If there's no penalty for failing a save listed, I made it -1 to the next combat d20 for the first miss, and then -1 to an addition 2 d20s, and so on. The bard missed a BUNCH of these saves. The kitchen gave them nausea.
The letters are things I wrote on the Roll20 map in the GM layer to keep track of stuff.
Vision 1: The Entrance to the Grounds of Harrowstone Prison
As you pass through the broken gates of Harrowstone Prison you feel a sudden burst of claustrophobia - everything is closing in, tightening down around on you. Then you are on fire - the sensation of fire, of burning, of a flame that is burning YOU, burning your skin and tissues to the bone. A smell of singed clothes and hair and skin, of smoke. Pain and burning fills your world for an instant that lasts an eternity – an eternity of torment and flame and….
And then, as quickly as it started, the sensation passes.
Make a Will save DC 10. This is a mind-affecting fear effect.
Vision 2: Closer to Harrowstone
As you pass by a ruined and dry fountain just before the entrance there is a sound, like the noise of a muttering crowd waiting for a performance, where all of the voices are rough, and deep, and impatient. Another step closer to the Prison and the voices gain in volume - still a crowd-mutter of indistinct words - and now the sound is... directed, at you personally, and then a SHOUT of rage, of fear, of pain!
And then the sound vanishes, and all goes silent. The sky darkens.
It will rain soon.
Make a Will save DC 11. This is a mind-affecting fear effect.
Vision 3: The Lake
Figures rise from the lake - some skeletal, and some ghostly, and some seeming to be forms of ectoplasm. Each rises from the lake and points directly at you; they are accusing you, personally, of disturbing their rest, and warning you of dangers unseen yet to come.
The figures hover, for a moment, and then start to dissolve back into the lake; falling or fading or dissolving as appropriate, until all that is left is seven score hands pointing in judgement. Then the hands fall apart and again, all is silent, except for the light rain pattering upon the lake and the ruined roof or the prison.
Four figures begin to move beneath the surface of the water. They are approaching you – it’s initiative!
Vision 4: Entering Harrowstone Prison
Entering the Prison proper, your head swims and you feel dizzy for a moment. There is a buzzing in your ears, increasing in volume, and your vision tunnels and goes dark, as you have a sudden vision of five prisoners:
• One, a piper with a ruined face, who longs to see his 'friends' and to feed them blood, missing his flute.
• Another, charming and utterly remorseless, finding his way with false offers of religious succor to those in need, separated from his silver chains, each with a different God's holy symbol.
• A third, morose and gloomy, his hammer taken so that he could no longer pursue his goal of rebuilding his dead wife's skull, which was shattered with said hammer. If only he could break other skulls just right, and find the missing piece, he could complete his broken wife and find rest himself.
• The fourth filled with lust for blood, for pain, and for death, raging against his imprisonment and longing only to continue lopping heads of his enemies, of the innocent, of whosoever he might find in possession of a neck for his axe.
• And finally, a bound and masked mage, wheeled into the Prison bound to a hand cart, mind reeling with plans and schemes even as he began to steel himself against a life filled with deprivation, torture, and pain.
Haunts Internal
H1:
You open the door carefully and look through the doorway to the passage beyond – and you have a sudden vision of several badly-burnt shrieking people rushing past you, screaming with rage and pain. The door is ripped from your hands and shuts more tightly than before.
H2:
As you look around the room you notice movement out of the corner of your eye. Several of the branding irons rise out of the empty brazier, glowing red-hot, and launch themselves at you!
(Reflex save DC 14 or take d6+1 damage, and branded (a random number for each))
H3:
You hear a faint sobbing sound. Psychic echoes of shame and anger fill this room; there is a sound of chains rattling and clanking and you feel your arms move behind your back as heavy manacles clamp upon your wrists!
Will save DC 12 or your hands are bound behind your back for this fight. A set of ghostly manacles rise from the ground: it is initiative!
H4:
The infirmary. You have visions of pain and suffering, of difficult choices forced upon the prisoner - the choice between suffering through sickness and injury in one's cell, or adjourning to the infirmary where treatments were little better than torture. It's horrifying, as are many places in this accursed place.
Make a DC 12 Will save. This is a mind-affecting fear effect.
UPPER LEVEL
The Kitchen. You have a vision of the food served to the prisoners here – mealy bread, thin gruel, barely palatable stew. It’s hard to say if the prisoners got more protein from the ‘beef’ used in the stew, or from the worms that infested much of the food. You feel yourself looking at your second (and last) meal of the day – cold porridge and a slice of something that’s certainly not ham – and your stomach churns at the thought; eating this food is marginally better than starving.
Make a F Save – DC 12.
Father Charlatan Haunt:
Keep your mic off for now. You can hear what your party is saying, and see what they’re doing to your corpse: but at a distance, as if you were floating above yourself. You have a sense of peace and comfort – at any minute, you’re sure, your God will come and bring you to your final rest.
Make a DC 14 Will save.
Let me know by whispering to me (in Roll20: use /w David to make the text following show up to just me) if you take any actions.
An avatar of your God appears, smiling and shining. “Let me help you – let me help you find peace”, it says, beatifically. Make a DC 14 Will save.
Hb1:
You stand in a partially collapsed chamber, ankle-deep in black chill waters as they consider what lies before them. Torches and lights burn with half as much light, and the mood is oppressive and anguished. As you look around, you’re taken aback by a sudden cacophony of screams – as if many people were burning to death. A stench of smoke and charred flesh fills your nostrils.
Make a Will save DC 12. This is a mind-affecting fear effect.
Several strange glowing figures rise menacingly from the water in here, forming from the skeletal remains. Initiative!
Hb2:
As you investigate the room, you see bronze plaques upon the walls next to each exit. Cleaning them from the soot and grime, you are confronted with the Northern Oubliette, the Southern Oubliette, The Eastern Cells, or the Cells and Torture. They are labelled "Reaper's Hold", "Hell's Basement", “Abbadon”, and "The Nevermore", respectively, to add to the levity and whimsy one typically finds in areas such as this.
Oubliette: noun, a secret dungeon with access only through a trapdoor in its ceiling.
Hb3:
There is a stench, first, of fear, old sweat, and blood. Next a sound of dripping water and the occasional moan of another wretched soul. But these are distractions from the crushing sense of hopelessness; your life is now the pit, and will be only the pit, forever. All you know is this circular pit, too small to stretch out in, and dark, dark, dark, except for those few moments when food and water are lowered down to you, and your old buckets raised up. You always surrender your buckets, for if you do not then the pit is allowed to fill with water. Always the dark, the cramped space, and the ALONE. Dark. Cramped. Forever.
As you struggle to process this, a spectral figure rises from the central grating. Initiative!
Hb4:
There is a stench, of old sweat, fear, and blood. There is a charge in the air of electricity, a feeling of dead cats roaming inside a dry room. Water drips into a pool, and there is the occasional sound of another moaning wretched soul. But these are distractions from the crushing sense of hopelessness; your life is now the pit, and will be only the pit, forever. All you know is this circular pit, too small to stretch out in, and dark, dark, dark, except for those few moments when food and water are lowered down to you, and your old buckets raised up. You always surrender your buckets, for if you do not then the pit is allowed to fill with water. Always the dark, the cramped space, and the ALONE. Dark. Cramped. Forever.
Hb5
You enter this chamber – and everything goes dark. Your vision cannot penetrate the horrible pervasive darkness of this room – the darkness of gloom and despair. But then you see something – a…. letter? Yes – and the first letter of your name! The letter is written in blood – the kind of blood that glows with an unholy glimmering. This letter is stealing your soul, your willpower… your sanity… and if your name is completely spelled out, you will die.
Make a Will save: DC 16. This is a mind-affecting effect.
If you can destroy the wall where the letter is written – or remove the letter from the wall somehow – you might be able to avoid this affect. But hurry! Another letter is being spelled out even now!
Hyup. They got through Harrowstone fairly well. It's an experienced group so their characters are fairly well optimized; in retrospect, I should have beefed up the encounter (better summons, and focusing the Magic Missiles). Ah, well. Then they talked to Vesoriana, and were a little confused because they only met four of the Big Five (heh heh heh...)
Bwa ha ha! I'm not sure what / where I'll do something with this but it's coming. Maybe at the end of book 3 - I might add Carrion Hill right around Illmarsh (or replace Illmarsh with Carrion Hill entirely), and this seems like a good place to bring Father C back.
After that they space-barred through the rest of Ravengro, until Adivion showed up to teleport Kendra to Caliphas. He's her uncle Adi, and she's going to stay with him after selling the house until she figures out what's next for her.
These forums have given me a LOT of ideas for some of those what's-nexts. We'll see how it works out.
Oh - and the Chonky Tanky Minotaur Paladin/Cavalier is now a tricky Kitsune Ninja/Samurai. Sold the Lopper's Axe for a Magic Katana. Been more effective and a more fun character to play - and can pick locks and find traps (instead of opening doors minotaur-style).
Then Adi tped back in and asked the party to accompany him to Clover's Crossing - I borrowed an idea from these boards, and sent the party down into the Ossuary of the Clover's Crossing temple to fight a bunch of undead. I found maps from these boards for Clover's Crossing and the temple, a random Inn map online, and a map called 'The Ashen Ossuary' from somewhere. I had a planned encounter where they might chase a pair of ghouls into an alley and find a horde of 20 ghouls there - Han Solo in the Death Star - but it didn't fit in with how they were doing in the town so I let it go.
They found a whispering way token on a skeleton mage, just to make it part of the plot, and a letter addressed to them from 'the Whispering Herald' that I took directly from LokiThief on these boards (changing it slightly because it was addressed to them). It was delightfully creepy!
The first encounter was a ghoul and 12 skeletons. They waltzed through it. The second was a Cadaver Lord and six zombies - a bit tougher (I didn't use the Cadaver Lord's darkness or fear, and called it a Zombie Master). Then a Skeletal Mage, Ogre Skeleton, and four other skeletons - the scorching rays hurt but it wasn't bad. I should have buffed the Ogre Skeleton. Finally in a chest they fought an Unrisen, which gave everyone the creeps and hit HARD - but no casualties.
The PC cleric spent most rounds channeling to heal, the bard and ninja do the stabbing, and the mage bought a wand of magic missile for guaranteed damage each round. It works pretty well.
Exploring the basement also gave them some extra treasure, because they're fourth level now. I put 'fly' in the Skeletal Mage's spellbook because I've read about other parties experiences in the Schloss...
Then Adi teleported away, and they went to the Inn ('The most defensible structure in town' Adivion says), where I had 100 undead tokens on the Roll20 GM layer - I told them the sun was setting, and they were moving all around the inn asking about rooms when I moved all those tokens to the token layer.
They decided to flee. Their horses (and cart) were left behind to give them some extra time. Thank you Buttercup, Peony, and Fartbum - you'll be missed.
Next week is more Road adventures, with the Crippled Kin, maybe some Orcs, and then Lepidstadt. I plan to ease up the time pressure (only by a few days) so they can sell loot.
It's a blast. I've joined a lot of pickup games that never come together or gel, but this one's a lot of fun so far. Woo hoo!