Aftermath

The stench of blood, unwashed bodies, and decaying flesh filled the air of the chamber as the party struggled to catch their breath after defeating the necromancer Vasharian, the druid Golubrin, and their cannibal followers. They had managed to rescue young Isabelle, but had arrived too late for the Stark lad. Their victory seemed hollow as they stared at the bloody remains of the teenaged boy.

Isabelle was conscious but still paralyzed by the druid’s poison, unable to move or speak. Marie, Ameiko, and Sandru gently picked her up and carried her out of the room, while Bella hastily threw rags over her friend’s body, so she wouldn’t have to see him like that. After a few minutes, she began to revive, and in response to their questions, recounted her story. After his fight with her father that morning, Jerrol had snuck back to the inn to ask her to run away with him. But while they were talking, Vasharian (who was the missing “scribe” from the inn) came and asked for fresh linens for his room. Once he had lured her to his room, he did something that made her feel like she had to obey him (likely a Hypnotism spell). However, Jerrol had followed her upstairs and when he saw Vasharian trying to lead her away, he fought him. The necromancer knocked him unconscious with his staff, then set the bedding on fire to cover their escape. He led her to the stable, put her on a horse with him, and galloped off. However, Jerrol must have come to shortly thereafter, because they soon became aware that he was chasing after them on another horse. He followed them all the way to the lake, but Golubrin and two of his followers were waiting at the shore, and they overpowered Jerrol and tied him up. Once they got him back to their lair, the druid smeared him with some poison that made him unable to move, and gave him to the cannibals.

Meanwhile the rest of the party was searching the rooms where the battle had taken place. Sandoval and Zhustin had found a small bedroom, separated from the main room by a ragged curtain. A screen partitioned one corner of the room, creating a separate space that contained a crude cot with hides. Beneath it was a box containing a vial of oily ointment. It didn’t appear to be magical, and Koya identified it as Tears of Death, apparently the druid’s poison of choice. Zhustin tossed it back onto the bed in disgust.

The rest of the room was better furnished, with a simple but relatively comfortable looking bed, and a cluttered desk. A small chest at the foot of the bed contained some dirty clothing and miscellaneous spell components.

The desk was covered with books and papers, which Sandoval began to examine. Many were written in a language that neither he nor anyone else in the party recognized (although it seemed to be the same language as the scroll that Vasharian had been reading from). The books he could read seemed to be texts on various forms of necromancy, or on the worship of Pazuzu. The papers were Vasharian’s notes. After some study, he was able to puzzle out that Golubrin’s clan had been afflicted with some disease that the druid was unable to cure, and that had caused his followers’ numbers to dwindle over the last few years. In desperation, he began to pray to all manner of devils and demons. It’s not clear from the notes exactly how Vasharian learned of Golubrin’s plight, but it’s clear he believed his coming here was the will of Pazuzu.

Vasharian’s goal was not the same as Golubrin’s, however. Under the guise of “curing” his followers, Vasharian actually planned to turn them into the seeds of an undead army, using them to infect the town of Roderic’s Cove and swell the ranks of the undead under his control. It’s not clear what purpose he intended to use this army for, but he mentioned several times that his plan should “please the Red Bishop”. Apparently the ritual Vasharian planned to use required the sacrifice of a virgin to the demon lord Pazuzu, which led him to seek out Isabelle. Marie recognized the clay statue in the main room as being a crude representation of Pazuzu, and the party wasted no time in smashing it to bits.

At the same time, Shinjiro and Nicki were searching the room where they had fought the necromancer. It was a small natural cavern, and appeared to be where the clan dumped the remains of their victims. It was full of bones and rotting corpses, along with rotting clothing and other belongings. Covering their noses, the two searched through the gruesome remains, finding several useable items and quite a lot of money (which apparently the cult had no use for).

As they tossed usable items out of the room, Nicki was using his Wand of Identify on them and on the necromancer and druid’s belongings. If something was magical, he’d call it out: “Potion of Cure Moderate. Oh, this is a +1 Dagger!” When he got to the necromancer’s ring, he paused for a moment. “Nope, nothing.” But when no one was looking, he slipped the ring into his pocket. He then wandered into the bedroom, to check on what Sandoval had found. When he left, Zhustin noticed that the vial of ointment was no longer lying on the bed.

As they searched, something shiny caught Shinjiro’s eye. Out of the mess, he pulled a gold enameled medallion bearing a crest of two stylized cranes. On the back was the inscription: “For Alder, My One True Love”. Realizing that this must have belonged to Sandru’s brother, and guessing it came from Ameiko, he quietly handed it over to her. She took it with trembling hands, and began to sob. After a moment, she turned to Sandru. “This is what started it all. This was some sort of family heirloom that I’d had since I was a baby. When I gave it to Alder, it made my father furious. I’d never seen him like that before. ‘You don’t know what you’ve done!’ he kept saying. ‘You have to get it back – no one can see it!’ He kept slapping me, telling me how stupid I was for giving it away. I couldn’t take it anymore, and that’s when I left, and ran off with Alder. My father was right – this must be cursed! If I’d never given this to him, Alder would still be alive today.”

As Shinjiro listened to this, he fingered the medallion he wore around his own neck with a growing sense of confusion. Except for the inscription, it was an exact duplicate of the one in Ameiko’s hands.

Finally convinced they had found everything worth finding, the party left the mine with a sense of relief, and spent the night in the welcome fresh air outside. In the morning, they returned to town. When they reached the Riverside Inn, the innkeeper and his wife were waiting for them. The mother rushed to her daughter, and the two hugged each other, sobbing. The gruff innkeeper also wiped a tear from his eye. “Thank ye for bringing back my girl. Did you take care of that Stark brat?” They tried to explain that young Stark had actually been trying to rescue Isabelle, and that he had died a horrible death for his efforts. But the innkeeper refused to believe it. “That’s bullshit! That kid was no good – no good, I tell ya. Sounds like he got what he deserved!”

Ameiko gasped in horror, then her face began to redden with rage. But before she could act, Nicki leapt off his horse. He strode up to the burly innkeeper, who towered over him, and began jabbing him in the chest with his finger. He was speaking in low tones, and no one could make out his words, but his meaning and anger were clear. With each jab, the innkeeper backed farther and farther up, growing pale, until he was cowering on the ground, a dark stain growing at his crotch. As Nicki turned and stormed away, the party could hear him mutter, “At least he was human!”

Sherriff Rossing arrived, and paid the party their bounty, offering profuse thanks for their work. As the party readied to leave, the innkeeper’s wife came running after them with a large burlap sack. “Here, we promised you these for saving our Isabelle. I just wish we had more. Excuse my husband – he’s an ass, I know, but …” Her voice trailed off, apparently unable to summon an excuse. She pressed the sack on them, then hurried away, head down. Inside were the reward that they'd promised for saving their daughter - a magical ring and shield, along with a pouch of gold. As they rode on down into town, Bella sidled up to Ameiko. “Perhaps there’s a way to arrange for the wife to run the inn on her own,” she said in a low voice. Ameiko looked confused. “But the inn belongs to her husband. He’d never agree to leave and let her …” Bella just smiled, peeling an apple with one of her daggers. Ameiko shook her head, as if to clear away an unwelcome thought, then cantered away. Bella simply shrugged.

While Sandru and his crew stocked up on supplies in town, Sandoval and Marie went to the local temple with the untranslated papers from the necromancer’s study. The head cleric examined them for a moment, then dropped them as if they were on fire. “Those are written in Abyssal!” he said in shock. “I can’t read it, of course, but they were written in the language of the plane of demons!”

The Harrowing

After leaving Roderic’s Cove, the mood of the caravan was solemn. Everyone was affected by the horrors they’d seen in Blood Creek Mine and the tragic fate of the Stark boy, none more so than Ameiko. She spent the day riding in silence, staring vacantly at the passing road. Sandoval tried to lighten the mood with cheerful songs and funny stories, and Koya was even more motherly than usual, but nothing seemed to penetrate Ameiko’s shell.

As dusk began to fall, Sandru called a halt and the caravan made camp. The cook made a spicy stew, using fresh fish purchased in Roderic’s Cove, but no one seemed to have much appetite. Even Sandoval seemed to have finally succumbed to the mood, teasing out a haunting minor-key melody on his flute.

Ameiko sat staring at the medallion in the light of the fire, turning it over and over in her hands. “Am I leading you all to your deaths?” she asked quietly, almost as if to herself. The party grew still, turning to watch Ameiko in the firelight. She raised her head and looked at each of them in turn. “I let my anger and my pride lead me years ago, and Alder followed to his death. Now my pride is once again drawing me towards Brinewall, and you all are following – will this end any better?” No one had any answers, and the silence hung heavy over the camp.

Ameiko turned to Koya. “I request a Harrowing, a True Reading. You, and your mother, and your mother’s mother – you all have the Gift of Sight. I must know if this is the path I should be on.”

Koya looked intently at Ameiko for long minutes, her eyes glittering in the firelight. “Are you sure this is what you want, child?” she finally asked. “I cannot control what the cards reveal.” Ameiko nodded. Koya took a deep breath and nodded back. She climbed heavily to her feet, her movements for the first time those of an old woman. She went to her wagon, and returned with a small wooden box. Sandru placed a small crate in front of her, while the Sczarni crew moved away from the fire and into the darkness, making signs of the evil eye as they left. Koya opened the box and took out a black velvet bag. She undid its drawstring and withdrew a worn deck of cards. She handed them to Ameiko. “Ask your question.”

Ameiko closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, then opened them and spoke. “I wish to know if this is a quest I should undertake.” Koya’s eyes narrowed, but she said nothing. Ameiko cut the cards and handed them back to the old woman, who began to lay them out on the makeshift table before her.

You’ve seen many Harrow Deck readings in your day, performed by fortune tellers at fairs or in the backs of taverns. The hag lays out three rows of three cards each, each row representing your past, present, and future. Usually each card was accompanied by an ominous or portentous proclamation from the teller: “You will soon face grave danger,” or “A beautiful woman seeks you,” or “You should wager all on your next endeavor”.

This was different. Koya worked in total silence, intent on the cards as they formed their rows.

The Fiend      The Empty Throne    The Survivor

The Juggler   The Hidden Truth     The Desert

The Big Sky   The Crows               The Midwife

As each card touched the table’s surface, the fire flared, throwing dancing shadows that almost seemed to move independent of the fire or the objects that cast them. As the rows of cards grew, so did Ameiko’s shadow, stretching up behind her until it seemed to become its own being, standing tall behind the frightened girl.

Koya sucked in her breath with a hiss, and turned to stare at Ameiko in astonishment. She turned back to the cards, and her face grew pale. Then she gathered up the cards with shaking hands and returned them to their bag. Everyone waited in silent anticipation, until finally Ameiko whispered, “Koya – what did the cards tell you?”

Koya turned to Ameiko. Her expression was at once one of immense pride and overwhelming sadness, and her eyes brimmed with tears. “Yes, my child,”  she said softly, taking Ameiko’s hand in her own and patting it tenderly. “This is the path you must travel.” She raised her eyes to the rest of the party. “And it is all of our destiny to travel it with you.”