TOPIC: Sunday Gamers: Andrek runs Carrion Crown

Carrion Crown (Wake of the Watcher) – Session 1 / 01-02-2015

Our unlikely heroes have defeated Auren Vrood and foiled his nefarious plans to raise an army of zombies from the corpse-strewn Furrows. Hitching up their wagons, the convoy heads south, in (s-l-o-w) pursuit of the dark riders carrying the regents required to concoct the grim sounding Carrion Crown elixir. The wagons trundle overland to the lakeside community of Redleaf, where they are loaded onto large, flat-bottomed barges for the voyage downriver.

Several days pass uneventfully – and then two swamp giants attack! Hideously ugly and thoroughly inbred, the giants initiate hostilities by hurling densely compacted balls of mud at the barge, splattering everyone in stinky river muck. Thorne conjures a wall of fire along the river bank, but the giants’ clammy flesh resists the flame. Both giants wade into the shallows. The dwarven druid transforms into a giant octopus and slips over the side of the barge. Moments later, rubbery tentacles drag one of the two giants under the water. The second giant clambers onto the barge, almost causing the vessel to capsize under its tremendous weight. Rafe peppers the brute with arrow fire, then backflips to safety as it retaliates with a sluggish, backhanded swipe. Hargr charges across the slippery deck and hurls a throwing axe into the giant’s face. There is a bone-crunching impact and the dying giant slumps over the side with a confused expression glazed across its ugly face.

“My grandmother gave me that axe!” Hargr grumbles, as the giant’s corpse settles on the bottom of the murky riverbed.

"Maybe you should have taken better care of it then," Van Hellsqueak suggests.

The rest of the voyage passes without incident and the heroes disembark with their treasure-laden wagons in Thushmoor. The town is dilapidated and the locals have an ill-favoured look about them. The only inn advertising vacancies is delightfully called ‘The Stain’ (possibly referring to the moist, fishy smelling patch on Rafe’s mattress). Despite the unwholesome ambience, the heroes take room and board with the wall-eyed innkeeper, who squints at them suspiciously as they haul their gear upstairs.

After settling into their dismal lodgings, the heroes ask around after the two dark riders. Two men matching their description raced into town together several days ago, exchanged their weary mounts for fresh horses at the livery stable then galloped off in different directions. The heroes visit the stables to see if Thorne can glean anything of value from the two knackered horses. The stable master is busy repairing a broken wheel and barely notices the party enter. Rafe moves to assist the old fellow with his task but hesitates as the charnel stench of dead flesh assaults his senses. Two ghoulish assassins erupt from beneath the hay, jagged claws glistening with brown ichor. Simultaneously, the stable master produces a poisoned dagger and slashes the blade at Rafe’s throat. Van Hellsqueak must be wearing ‘odour de’ open grave’ as the two ghouls cannot seem to get enough of him. He is paralysed by their attacks and falls senseless to the ground. His crossbow lands beside him and discharges with the impact, propelling a crossbolt into the stable master’s skull. The old fellow is dead before he hits the floor. Hargr makes short work of the two ghouls.

To be continued....

Glad to hear you will be with us on Sunday. Thanks also for the write up, magnificently written as always.

Carrion Crown (Wake of the Watcher) – Session 2 / 08-02-2015

The heroes alert the local constabulary to the reeking ghoul corpses littering the bloody straw of the livery stable. Upon the body of the treacherous stable master, Van Hellsqueak finds an ornate, jewel encrusted egg. He prises the lid off and finds a token of the Whispering Way nestled within.

Ignoring dire warnings of a tentacled horror in the lake, Rafe throws money at the bargemen until someone agrees to ferry the party to the loathsome fishing community of Illmarsh. Once again, Hargr oversees the loading of the group’s wagons, the axles of which creak alarmingly under the weight of the treasure packed within. As dusk approaches, Thorne spots a disturbance in the dark water. The bulbous, rubbery bulk of a truly enormous octopus rises from the lake! The cowardly bargemen immediately leap overboard and begin paddling towards the shore, leaving the heroes to deal with the aquatic threat.

Dripping tentacles slither blindly across the deck. One chances upon Thorne’s leg and immediately latches on with its barbed suckers, dragging the dwarven druid towards the gunwale. Before the life can be squeezed out of him, Thorne alters his physical form into that of a water elemental. In this new shape, he easily escapes the monster’s grapple, like water spilling from a leaky bucket.

In fury, the creature begins hammering upon the barge. Hargr and Rafe hack at the long, rubbery appendages while Van Hellsqueak loads his crossbow. The octopus hauls itself out of the water, it’s vice-like beak snapping hungrily as the boat lists under it’s weight, tipping the heroes into its foul smelling maw. Bracing himself against the wagons, Van Hellsqueak lines up his shot and discharges his magical crossbolt directly down the leviathans gullet, piercing something internal. The dying octopus loses its grip on the barge and slips back into the water, sinking towards the bottom of the lake.

Without the bargemen from Thrushmoor, the heroes struggle to direct the barge towards the shore. A storm rolls in from the south, rocking the barge alarmingly. As lightning flashes, Thorne spots a second vessel in even more trouble than their own. A single crewman struggles to keep the boat from capsizing. Thorne transforms into a horrible fish man and dives into the water. He swims towards the other vessel and clambers aboard, to the great dismay of the man at the helm. After convincing the old fellow that he means no harm, Thorne assists him in bringing the boat into land.

To be continued….

Carrion Crown (Wake of the Watcher) – Session 3 / 15-02-2015

I missed this session, but from what I’ve managed to piece together….

The old fellow whom Thorne rescued introduces himself as Professor Croon, an inventor and reluctant resident of Illmarsh. After escorting the elderly eccentric back to his workshop, the party make their presence known to Mayor Greedle. The mayor suggests that he might have some information about the dark riders they seek, which he will reveal only if they help him solve a string of disappearances amongst the fisher folk. Their investigation leads the group to the local church of Gozreh. Somehow, the group incite the clerics to violence and Throne almost gets himself killed.

To be continued….

Carrion Crown / Wake of the Watcher - Part 4 - 22/02/2015

(Gary was absent this week and we did not have a copy of his character sheet. Instead, we used stats for the mud shaman (level 9 druid) from the Pathfinder NPC Codex. The mud shaman turned out to be pretty awesome, much to the GM’s dismay).

Having riled up the Recondite Order of the Indomitable Sea good and proper (well done Gary), the heroes dive for cover behind the warped, wooden pews throughout the temple. Bolts of negative energy fizzle and pop overhead .

“You outsiders should have minded your own business!” Brother Caleb shrieks as yet more sickle-wielding cultists stream through hidden doors in the rear of the bethel, “Now you know too much to ever be allowed to leave!”

“I aint’ going anywhere without that sparkly headband of yours,” Hargr yells, eyeing the vicar’s silver tiara greedily. The rest of the party exchange worried glances. Their two wagons are already bursting at the seams with treasure - if Hargr tries to cram any more gold in they will probably explode!

“Maybe we should think about buying a bigger wagon?” Rafe suggests.

“Maybe we should worry about that later!” Van Hellsqueak retorts as the pew he’s cowering behind explodes in a cloud of splinters and bad mojo.

“Don’t worry, friends!” Thorne calls, “I have a plan!”

“You’re not going to turn into a plant again, are you?” Rafe asks warily.

“Well I was going to - but if you’re going to be so scathing about it….” Thorne sulks.

“It’s just last time you just stood there and swayed….” Rafe added.

“Fine!” Thorne snapped, “I guess I’ll turn into something different then. Whatever makes you happy, Rafe Jacoby!”

Pointedly ignoring Rafe’s half-hearted apologies, Thorne steps out of cover and begins trundling towards the false clerics. Rafe pops up to provide covering fire, but what he witnesses next causes him to drop his bow in shock and awe. As he runs, Thorne’s ruddy skin grows green and scaly and armoured plates burst from the back of his jerkin along the length of his spine. In the space of ten heartbeats, the dwarven druid transforms into a raging stegosaurus! The ground shakes with each booming step and wooden pews are smashed into kindling beneath it’s terrific mass!

“Level nine druids can wildshape into dinosaurs?!” Van Hellsqueak gasps, dropping his crossbow. A cultist on the other side of the room collapses with a crossbolt sticking out of his eye.

The GM consults the rules. Apparently they can! Sucks to be you, GM! >

The heroes cheer Thorne on as he thunders towards the chapel, crushing several robed fanatics underfoot. The cultist’s response is less enthusiastic. Brother Caleb casts Ice Storm, pelting the stegosaurus with fist-sized hailstones and burying it in freezing slush - yet still Thorne advances (albeit more slowly). Caleb casts Greater Command and orders the heroes to leave Illmarsh and never return - only Van Hellsqueak succumbs. The plucky halfling throws himself through a stained glass window depicting a mermaid being violated by tentacles. Picking himself up, he runs headlong into the surrounding swampland.

“Aww….” the cultists groan. That window was the closest thing they had to pornography and the nights in Illmarsh are long and lonely.

Their disappointment is short-lived and soon replaced with blind terror as Thorne (finally!) closes to within 15ft of their position and sweeps his great, bony tail through their ranks. His indiscriminate attack demolishes the rear wall of the temple, revealing a secret shrine to Deep Father Dagon! Caleb and his followers are buried beneath the rubble.

“You fools don’t know what you do!” Caleb wails, unable to extricate himself from the crushing weight of debris, “If the Order fails to appease the neighbours, Illmarsh will be destroyed! The Pact must be honoured or -mmmfffff!”


“Not our problem.” Hargr says, placing his boot in the zealot’s mouth. Reaching down, Hargr snatches the tiara from atop the vicar’s head and whistles appreciatively. Anything that shiny just has to be valuable!

Stego-Thorne’s stomach makes an ominous gurgling sound. Moments later, he produces a terrible, dinosaur-sized turd atop the trapped fanatic. Caleb's arm emerges from the muck and claws hopelessly for aid that isn’t forthcoming. The pathetic limb shudders then becomes still. The heroes agree that he probably suffocated but nobody is inclined to check.

“My sincerest apologies,” Thorne says, resuming his normal form, “It must have been something I ate.”

“Ach, you splattered my new boots with that filth!” Hargr explodes, reaching for his axe.

“You can wash it off in that sacred font,” Rafe soothes, “I’m sure Deep Father Dagon won’t object.”

---

Picking through the wreckage of the secret shrine, the heroes find the entrance to a secret room packed with the headless corpses of the missing villagers.

“Do you think we’ll still get paid for only finding their limbs and torsos?” Rafe worries.

“We found 80% of the missing villagers, we should get paid 80% of the reward,” Hargr states with typical dwarven pragmatism, “Should the mayor disagree, he may find himself joining this pile.”

'That’s a bit chaotic evil….' Thorne thinks, eyeing the other dwarf nervously. Then his player checks Pat’s alignment. C/E?! When did that happen? Does the GM know? Apparently he does!

The heroes also encounter a pair of Illmarsh residents waiting patiently in an adjoining chamber, apparently unperturbed by the sounds of battle, collapsing masonry and a dinosaur taking a really big poo.

“Oh, hello there strangers!” greets the man warmly, “My name is Rufus Tulby and this is my dear wife Imelba. We’ve just given our beloved infant daughter to the good priests of Gozreh to be fostered with the mysterious neighbours who live down the bay.”

“That seems a bit silly.” Rafe observes.

“Oh, not at all, sir!” Goodman Tulby continues, “For over thirty years, every second and third daughter born in Illmarsh has been fostered with the neighbours. It’s all part of an ancient pact to keep the village safe from some ill-defined mythos-related doom. The girls grow up to live long and prosperous lives of plenty amongst the neighbours. That’s what Father Voltiaro assured us before carrying our little girl off to the creepy mansion in the swamp, never to be seen again.”

“She’s such a lucky girl!” Imelda crows, tears of joy glistening on her cheek.

“Isn’t she just?” Hargr agrees, “Hey, would you two like to see the room of headless bodies we just found? I didn’t see any little headless babies, but maybe I overlooked them. Come and help me check!”

It takes a while for Rafe and Thorne to calm the villagers down again. Imelba faints outright and her husband is noisily ill. In retrospect, the Tulby’s realise that handing their toddler over to a depraved and murderous cult was maybe not the most responsible decision they could have made as parents. Someone will have to go to Undiomede House and prevent Father Voltiaro sacrificing the baby to his mad fishgod!

That ‘someone’ turns out to be the heroes! What a surprise!

It’s only when they get there that the party remember that Van Hellsqueak is still under the effects of Caleb’s Greater Command spell and probably halfway to Caliphas by now….

To be continued….

(We also fought a huge crab-like monster-thing, but I forgot about that and couldn’t be bothered to edit it into my draft. Sorry for denying you your big moment in the spotlight, huge crab-like monster-thing - maybe next time! It did almost cut Rafe in half with its oversized pincers - up until the point Rafe drove a spear through its eye).

Carrion Crown / Wake of the Water – Part Five (01/03/2015)

The heroes regroup and continue along the trail to Undiomede House. For some reason known only to him, Van Hellsqueak has (poorly) disguised himself as a vicar of the Recondite Order, his splendid robes trailing through the black mud. As the road winds deeper into the swamp it becomes decreasingly road-like. Soon the party are up to their knees in slimy porridge. Hargr squelches along at the head of the group, grumbling darkly as his new boots fill with foul-smelling muck. By contrast, Thorne seems to be quite enjoying himself.

“Don’t you just love the great outdoors?” he beamed happily. “I can’t get enough of it! The sun in the sky and the mud between my toes! Ah, what a wonderful day to be alive!”

Suddenly, a cluster of weird, leech-like critters leap from the marsh. Each creature is the length of a man’s forearm, their slimy husks throbbing with alien malevolence. Rafe, Thorne and Van Hellsqueak all duck out of harm’s way, but Hargr is too busy grousing to respond to the sudden threat. One of the leeches lands on his neck and immediately begins burrowing under his skin!

“Urk! Get this thing outta’ me!” Hargr roared, clawing at his own throat.

“How curious,” Thorne exclaimed, examining the twitching bulge beneath Hargr’s skin, “It almost looks as though it’s trying to find your brain.”

“No rush then!” Van Hellsqueak chortled.

“Get it out now!” Hargr roared, “I need my brain for thinking up ways to kill that smarmy halfling!”

Rafe holds Hargr still while Thorne hacks the leech-thing out of his neck. He has to cut carefully to avoid severing any of the major arteries and killing the patient even more quickly that the parasite would have done.

“That’s just about the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen,” Rafe opined, examining the dead thing speared on the end of Thorne’s knife, “I can scarcely credit that it came from this world….”

---

Undiomede House slumps on the bank of a wide, marshy lake in the depths of the Soddentimbers. The mouldy plaster is peeling like a ginger in the sun, revealing the damp-stained brickwork underneath. The house stands adjacent to a waterlogged cemetery, where lichen-covered tombstones lean at maddening angles. Van Hellsqueak feels his sanity slipping away – then he recalls that he’s still dressed as a cultist and genuine insanity can only enhance his performance. You have to inhabit the role!

Marching up to the front door, Van Hellsqueak stands on tippy toe to reach the bell. It comes away from the wall when he tries to ring it. Shrugging, the halfling beats on the door with his new morningstar until someone answers it. That someone turns out to be a hideous, inbred marsh giantess, who has to crouch awkwardly to fit into the cramped foyer.

“What do you want?” she growled, squinting suspiciously at the little fellow in his ill-fitting robes.

“Hello! We just came from Illmarsh with more babies to be sacrificed,” Van Hellsqueak explained cheerfully, “I just need Father Voltiaro to come out here and sign for them.”

“Nobody told me about any babies!” the giantess rumbled.

“Oh, perhaps I have the wrong address. This is Undiomede House, isn’t it? Perhaps I could speak to the homeowner?”

“Get lost!” the giantess snapped, slamming the door in his face.

“So much for the diplomatic approach,” Hargr grunted, shouldering passed Van Hellsqueak and booting the door off its old, rusty hinges. He charges through the foyer and swings his axe at the giantess’ scaly shins. Van Hellsqueak produces a crossbow from the loose sleeves of his false vestments and starts firing, whilst Thorne creates a bubble of frigid air centred on the giantess. Realising she is outgunned, the giantess fights her way out of the house and dives into the lake. Nobody much fancies the idea of going in after her.

The heroes explore the first floor of the dilapidated mansion and find little of interest, save for a mouldy, old sofa. Hargr reaches down the back to check for loose change and finds a swarm of giant tics. They crawl all over the greedy dwarf, draining his blood.

“Hey, that’s my blood!” Hargr protests, “I need that for bleeding! Get them off me!”

Van Hellsqueak steps forward eagerly and swings his morningstar into the dwarf’s groin. Hargr doubles over in pain.

“Sorry, I was aiming for the tics.” Van Hellsqueak apologised. Nobody believes him.

Hargr stumbles out of the house and rolls into the lake, drowning the tics beneath the murky water. He floats there for a moment, nursing his bruised nuts and considering how best to take his revenge on the wretched halfling.

To be continued….