Session 1: Venture to Thod Report

The first of the adventures recorded in the archives of Morren are those of Adolfas Palatinos, Arthur Buxton, and Torvald Elmore. It is a strange mix of peoples, and representative of the colorful cast that Folkmer has drawn together to do his bidding. Adolfas was a native of Astoria, but his family straddled the Vestidian border. The hardships and constant conflict along the borderland meant that he and his family lacked the cultural refinement and values of traditional Astorians. Indeed, he worshipped his own strange idols rather than the gods of victory and honor that were common to his northern countrymen. Arthur Buxton is a dwarf by name, but he is far removed from the dwarves that might be seen in Norvarrot. His family had once lived in the north of Everos, but the collapse of Banthoram in the late 1200s compelled his family to escape the continent and look for better opportunity and stability. They arrived in Othos after a treacherous journey across the Bitter Straights. Once landed in this new land, the family remained along the coast until the death of his father. WIthout family ties, Arthur changed his name to reflect a more human style and took up mercenary work. Finally, Torvald Elmore is a native Vestidian and true blooded if there were ever such a thing. He was a veteran of the War of Darkness, and has now taken up mercenary work to ply his soldier trade in a new environment.

The small three man party departed from Gallows Rock and decided to trek eastward to see what remained of the coastal peninsulas of that region. Their poor status meant that they were forced to travel on foot for this first expedition, which slowed their pace greatly. The slow pace of foot travel was compounded by particularly nasty weather blowing in from the sea. Arthur, who was a trailblazer, was unfamiliar with the terrain to begin with, but the bad weather made them lose their way entirely. In all, it took the party three days to reach the hills north of the Thod peninsula. It was there, however, that the party ran into their first stint of hardship and turmoil.

Whilst setting up their camp in the hills north of Thod, the cold darkness of a Vestidian night set upon the camp. Torvald and Arthur immediately took to their tents to escape the cold and get much needed rest, while Adolfas was left with the duty of guarding the camp. A few hours passed as the moon rose high into the black pall of sky and lit the earth with a dim glow. It was peaceful, at least for a time. When the moon had just passed its zenith, Adolfas heard what sounded to be rustling in the dry brush. He grabbed up a torch and moved closer to the bushes. When he got within 20 feet of the area, the uninvited guest made itself known: a wolf, easily distinguished by its bright night sensitive eyes. That was a problem. Being a problem solver, however, Adolfas quickly sprung to action by lobbing his torch in the direction of the wolf in an attempt to scare it away. The throw made it most of the distance, but fell short of the bushes that held the wolf. Quickly, the dry grass and brush of the windy hills caught fire, and were blown to greater conflagration by the already turbulent weather. If anything, the fire only angered the wolves, who burst from the brush and began to aggressively circle the party. Adolfas fought them off at first, then was joined by his awoken party members. They united and over the course of 10 minutes fought off the wolves, but not without loss. Torvald was mauled and separated from the party as the fires overtook the hilltop, and much of the camp material was lost. For the rest of the night there loomed the terrifying possibility that Torvald was lost to the group entirely.

The next day, Adolfas and Arthur slowly trudged their way southwest to reunite with the coastline they had originally been following. The tents were ruined and whatever they carried was rolled upon their bodies in bags fashioned from their bedrolls. It was a ruinous beginning to an adventure, but they continued on regardless. The morning sun beat down on them as they walked, and if nothing else this dried their damp clothing. This improved their mood, but the looming problem of Torvald's absence still cast a shadow of dread. That was until they found him, or more accurately ran into him, while traversing the plains north of Thod. He was hungry, dirty, and bloody from the fight with the wolves, but he was pleased to have found his companions. Reunited, the party continued traveling south for the rest of the day. The past few days had been a difficult trial, but they had survived.

As night descended upon the Vestidian plains, the party found themselves in need of lodgings for the night and a place of note to discover. As they followed the coastline south, they came upon what seemed to be masonry taking shape in the gloom. At first, from a distance, it seemed strange and alien. The edges of the unidentified masonry were rough and solid, extending up to about knee height. The interior, however, was comprised of broken up rocks that varied in size from that of a fist to larger than a man's head. In width, the stones extended over eight feet. In length, the masonry trailed on to the east and west well beyond anyone's sight. They pondered at this, staring at the stones in bewilderment and deciding whether to head inside or not. Finally, Adolfas came to the realization that these stones must have once been the city wall that had clearly been torn down. With that controversy aside, the question became whether or not they would enter the city at night. Dark things lurk in the night, and an abandoned city would make a wonderful haven for such things.

The debate over the matter of entering the city lasted for only a few minutes. Adolfas and Arthur were eager to explore after days of hard travel, enough so that the potential dangers within the city seemed irrelevant. Torvald urged caution, but was overruled in the matter and dragged along as the party clambered over the masonry. The city on the other side was utterly abandoned, with no smoke billowing from the chimneys or movement within the houses. The place was a ghost town and probably had been for years. That did not stop the party from exploring the houses for things of interest. Unfortunately, all they discovered was misfortune. Adolfas went to the second floor of one of the wall street houses to find a hanging corpse and a letter that vividly described the horrific and short siege of the city before the man took his own life. Arthur was even worse off, for in the basement of one of the nearby houses he discovered a shriveled up and demonic form of a man tucked away behind some dried wine caskets.

The day after the battle the party began to explore the city proper. Torvald went to a blacksmith and was hit by a trap crossbow bolt since he never bothered to check. While that happened, Adolfas explored the ancient keep of the city, which had been reduced to rubble. In the place of the once grand keep was a forest of gnarly, blackened trees with vines of red and purple spikes that wrapped their way around the dry branches. Adolfas explored this bleak area and found some dispatches sent from Worthend to the lord of Thod to evacuate all those who had been moved to Dornum, and hold off Typhon's minions until the mission was complete. Clearly the second part had been difficult. Coming back, Adolfas was met by an exasperated Torvald, who told him of the blacksmith and the traps that lay inside. The two of them then grabbed Arthur and took him to the blacksmith as well.

The three of them scoured the blacksmith as a group to uncover anything that remained hidden to them. Swords, axes, shields, and other artifacts of the pre-war era could be sold for good coin back in Gallows Rock, so long as they didn't die to traps. Torvald brushed among the racks of dusty weapons, yet found nothing outstanding amongst the battered and tarnished steel. Arthur was wary of this city after the previous night of madness, and for that reason stood in the doorway and watched for potential enemies. He did not dare step into the gloom of the smithy and risk himself in darkness once more. A few minutes became an hour as the party pattered and creaked throughout the building. It told a story, even if it was bitter and lacked all context. Weapons of crude quality lay in boxes, ready for the frontlines and the anvil bore deep marks of wear from frantic and repeated use. Unfortunately the work was in vain and the weapons would never reach the hands of Vestidia's warriors. The city fell before all could escape.

After a long time of searching, Adolfas found something strange in that blacksmith shop. Hidden beneath a heap of broken crates was a trapdoor, closed but not locked from the time of the war. Prying it open with the tip of his sword, Adolfas peered into the dark pall and saw only the filthy ground beneath, betraying nothing more than that. He beckoned over to the other two companions, who themselves were ready to leave. The sun was at its zenith by then, leaving much less daylight for exploration than they had hoped. Torvald was suspicious of the development and quickly argued that they should leave. Arthur wasn't so easily dissuaded and brushed off the notion with a scoff: A trapdoor so well hidden could mean valuable treasure, and that is why they had lingered there for so long, after all. Adolfas agreed. Outvoted, Torvald gave in and followed.

Adolfas was the first one to climb down the old, rotting ladder into the darkness. The first few steps were taken without incident, but about half the distance down the ladder rungs bent and broke with his weight, sending him plunging down to the ground. Surprisingly, the fall did not greatly injure him, not beyond a few bruises. He was, however, stuck in the darkness with no clue on which way to go or of his surroundings. Torvald uncoiled a rope and tossed it into the darkness and tied it to the anvil to keep it steady, and from there followed Adolfas into the darkness. That would have been well and good, but Torvald decided to carry the torch in one hand and climb down the rope with the other, and managed to lose his grip. Falling from the rope, Torvald was helpless as he tumbled through the air a short distance before landing with a sickening crunch upon the unsuspecting Adolfas. A burst of pain tore up his arm, and upon standing up Adolfas found that his arm only dangled after him and could not move on its own. The weight of Torvald's equipment and the poor angle of the fall had quickly and completely broken Adolfas's arm at the upper bicep. To Torvald's credit, they did now possess a torch. Adolfas himself was far less impressed with that benefit.

With Adolfas's arm broken and the party having already wasted so much time in the day, there was serious consideration to turn around. Adolfas waved away any concern with his one good arm and claimed that he could press forward any distance even with the injury. The others were skeptical, but continued onward all the same. Stepping into the center of the dirty walled room the party scanned the area. A number of barrels and other crates were piled up in the corners, but in the center was a scene of morbid surprise. A rotting corpse, more skeleton than flesh, lay on the floor along with the remains of what seemed to be four dogs. Written onto the walls was a message in dark, charcoal paint: "pay your debts". It was certainly ominous, and the party had no idea what it meant or in what context it was created. They examine it for what it's worth, then continue onward. At the end of the cavern was a door of old planks that led deeper into the subterranean. Torvald kicked it open with ease and the planks sputtered across the floor with a dull rattle. Inside is what seemed to be a room of operations, with tables and chairs around and paper strewn haphazardly on the floor. It obviously had not been occupied in years. That was all that remained in the room, besides a single other door on the far side.

A single door. The whole city lay in ruins around them, but there was still at least one door left unopened down in the blacksmith's basement. Would this curious party allow such a thing to stand? Certainly not. Emboldened by the weak hinges of the door into the operations room, Arthur kicked at the door with all his might to throw it open. It certainly broke, but not how he intended. The wood in the center of the door shattered forth with a shower of splinters. Unfortunately, the rest of the door refused to follow in kind, and Arthur was left bouncing in place as his leg was caught in the hole he had created. A few moments after a soft 'twang' was heard from the opposite side and Arthur gave out a yelp as a projectile punched its way into his exposed underfoot. Blood began to trail down his leg as he wailed out and fought to reclaim his leg. Torvald and Adolfas, for what the latter was worth with a broken arm, were able to wrench him out from the door after a few heaves and he collapsed to the ground. Now the party had a man with a broken arm and another with an injured foot. Not one major injury had been sustained in combat. If nothing that shows the danger of the environment.

Once the door was open, the party moved into the small room beyond. It was little more than a closet's worth of space and dreadfully musty after five years. Within was the corpse of a man, somewhat persevered in the subterranean hideaway, though the body looked emaciated even by the grim standards of death. The poor soul had clearly lingered there and saw no route for escape until all his energy had been sapped away. On the ground by his seated feet lay a dagger, simple yet solid in design. A weapon the smith had made for his own hand. Next to him and propped up upon a crate was a crossbow with twine tied around the trigger leading to the door. The thick cord of the bow string was frayed, but the bolt still managed to fire from the impact of the door. Standing against the wall was a small chest with a note on top of it. Torvald grabbed it and read the contents, which spoke of a debt to be paid between a man named Ragnald and another named Sotmer, who identified himself as the blacksmith. Their relationship had been less than amiable, but they apparently made some last minute plans to meet once again before escaping the city. Judging by the scene, that had never happened. The party stood in the room for a few moments and debated what to do about the chest, which was not meant for them or any other looters. They argued back and forth. While the argument was happening around him, Adolfas casually leaned in and opened the chest, which creaked open with an uninviting shriek. Suddenly, a sword came swinging down from the ceiling from its attached rope and nearly stabbed into Torvald had he not been fast enough and moved. It struck into the inside lid of the chest with a thud, and on that surface was a message in black ink reading 'pay your debts'. Interesting.

If they had thought the mere sight of a chest or the text written upon it was interesting, the contents were of much greater concern. Laying at the floor of the container and layered in dust was a medallion which bore a symbol of a golden tower in a sea of dark iron that in turn was surrounded by a border of etched waves. It was highly ornate and well crafted by average standards. They did not know exactly what the medallion was or what purpose it served, but it was clear to Torvald at least, being a native Vestidian, that the symbol was of the lords of Thod. Also in the chest with the dusty medallion were a few coins of gold stamped with the icons of Dornum. The small trove of treasure was a pleasant surprise on an otherwise fruitless and dangerous adventure. Once the room had been searched for all it was worth, the party left and returned to the surface. By that time it was a bit past noon, but there still remained a city to explore.

As soon as the sunlight washed over them, Arthur tumbled from the trapdoor and the darkness below and into the light. When Torvald and Adolfas emerged a few moments later after a tiring and laborious climb they found him sitting against the counter tending to his foot. The bolt had gone clean through, and the floor beneath him was spotted with drips of blood. It went without saying that he was in no condition to continue tramping about the town, but he said so anyway, and loudly. Torvald did the best he could to tend to the flustered dwarf's leg, but it only did so much. There was also the more immediate problem of Adolfas's broken arm, which Torvald himself had caused. To repent for it, Torvald gave Adolfas his fine Vestidian cloak to fashion into a sling until they reached safety. It was a rough job, but it suited their purposes for the time being. With that problem settled, the two of them left the blacksmith and headed on their separate ways through the streets.

Adolfas moved westward along the city's main boulevard, aching at the arm but determined not to waste his time in the ruined city. The cobbled road before him was completely desolate. Splinters of rotting wood and an almost perpetual stench of death permeated the air and gave the whole place the atmosphere of a graveyard. It wouldn't be incorrect. Tramping ahead and gawking at the destruction, Adolfas came upon a hill that rose above the buildings and reached out to hug the coast. Atop its peak were stones, like that of a foundation, but entirely lacking in any other structure. Worse still, within the borders of those stones was a forest, if it could be called that, of tangled vines and tall, thick stocks of malign growth. Pinned upon the spines of those vile trees were the rotting corpses of those who once occupied the keep. Servants were distinguished by their simple doublets and dresses, soldiers still wore the armor of their service, though it hung sad and low on the thin bodies, and finally those of the Vestidian aristocracy that hid in the keep could be identified by their well adorned cloaks of fur that bore intricate designs of trees and wild animals. Upon one of these noble corpses, Adolfas found a letter from Lord Folkmer to evacuate the city if possible and hold back the tide of Typhon for longer. Clearly that didn't work out extraordinarily well. Whilst this occured, Torvald wandered the various alleys and side streets of Thod but failed to find anything of note.

By the time the party reunited the sun had past its zenith and had begun its descent in the west. That was a problem. The last thing they needed was another night among the ominous and desolate buildings of Thod. Their fight against the demon in the basement had ensured that sentiment. That being said, even in the best of circumstances they would not be able to fight as effectively as they had the first night, for Adolfas had acquired his broken arm and Arthur had a hole in his foot. The only option was to try and escape before the day had passed, and for that they moved to the port. The once bustling port of Thod acted as one of the primary portals of trade and people into and out of Vestidia, but the war had taken a significant toll on it. Most of the ships were gone, having escaped from the collapse of the city six years prior, but a number of them were broken or sunk entirely within the harbor. Collisions among the ships that attempted to make a hasty escape or the ferocious attacks of the demons were to blame. Either way, the party traversed what remained and managed to find a sea worthy ship, a small crayer for coastal trade, among the wrecks and ruin. Its sails were heavily worn and the aged wood smelt strongly of salt and decay. It was not ideal, but it was their only option. They boarded the rickety ship and felt it rock beneath them and set to work preparing it for a voyage. After a few hours, as the sun was beginning to set, the party was ready to cast off. With some difficulty they managed to navigate the ship out of the choked up port and head out to open ocean. After a few hours they arrived on the mainland of Dornum and moved by foot inland until they reached the high hill of gallows rock. They had survived.