Entry: Athebryn’s Tales of Valour
Come sit ye all and hear another fable of the bravery of Athebryn’s troupe, in “Ravenmoore or less”.
Having brought much merryment and joy to Galduria, it were not a surprise to our traveling band to be approached by a young and confused representative of Maginmar. When she deflected her attention from the lavishing Elven and delectable Feyward and solely spoke to Sandru were could on surmise what was said;
“Lord, oh lord, bound by muscle and musk; please save my woeful brother-in-law and bring back the fruits of the government, oh please, please…”
The band shocked at our trader being called Lord, were quick to ask questions, and with a few quick responses, incentives and without much ado, set off to help the damsel by finding her unsoberly relative last seen heading to Ravenmoore.
While there was a stop along the way, it was hardly worth the scratch. The town plagued by weren creatures, was much more heavily affected by a distinct case of insipidity. While were tried to share our talents, unfortunately to any tune requires an ear, and to any dance requires a beat, and the people of this place lacked facilities.
Arriving at Ravenmoore our troupe had to divide sending a small group in. A small, dark and deathly path hugged and rubbed the Quintet as they made their way in; near the end they were met by a simple child and his beloved pet, a grotesque oversized mosquito, which would foreshadow the events to come.
The town folk were simple, and amazed at such magical creatures as “Elves” and “Gnomes”, though we must not laugh, for their dark pathways have left them isolated and their Family hierarchies most likely looked more like the weave of a fabric than a tree. Lucky for the Quintet though, the simple folk were welcoming and celebrating good harvest, pulling in the travelers to participate.
The brave and wisdom filled Koya was very unsettled in the small village, their worship of Desna was questionable, deviated by years of isolation. When having a wrestle with a pig, the rest of the group shared Koya’s concern – the pig burst into a demonic plant and cause quite a the damage to our hero Athebryn, and his companions.
Having saved the town yet again we returned for some well deserved rest. In the dark of night the “not so bashful with the ladies” Theibar set off a call of great distress. Having been lured into the fields by the beauty of the town, he was ambushed by her parents. He defended himself well smiting one of his attackers but was ultimately poisoned by the pretty vixen’s betraying blade.
The heroic group came and saved Theibar from the vixen and remaining parent he had yet to rightly smite. Once healed Theibar jumped into action with the rest of the group as the onslaut of a blood thirsty cult began! You see, while the variation on Desna worshipping was a quirk for most in the city, for many it was a guise to hide their true worship of the evil demi-god [what’s his face].
Having destroyed a hay creation of evil, an old lady weaver who appeared as a weaver of 8 legs, the group entered a decrepit house where the Elves defeated three cultists, and the wayward and Lord grounded some winged bloodsuckers. Inside the house the group found dark paraphernalia, confirming the deviation of the small town. Attacked by some 3 deformed monsters, they were yet again ovecome by our mini-army, opening the pathway ahead.
Leading further into the fields, the fields became thick and dark, filled with insects, cobwebs and evil. After another fight with a glutenous monster, our group came to clearing, filled with 26 or so worshippers wearing clocks of mosquitos, while chanting towards the corrupt major, donning cloaks of dispair.
The agely Koya was quick to provide support as the team took on this great of foes. The mayor, using the hexful blessings of his evil lord, attacked with lightening and froze Lord Sandru. Unfortunate for Official of evil, Athebryn and Luthien got to his sides and gave him the beating his mother should have given him as a child. and with one final action Theibar shot an arrow of true justice, into the neck of the no-longer major.
Horay for our gang! But, oh, what is this? The cloaked cultusts let our a horrendous scream as the mosquitoes drain the life from them, and start forming a dark creature. The gloomy sky starts to pull down to the deformed figure – Smash! – Theirbar quick witted throws a, un light bomb at the formation – Splash! – Luthien drenches it in oil – Click! – And with a click of Athebryn’s fingers the formation is alight, reeling in agony.
With a few decisive actions, the last of the life was taken from the humanoid mosquito, and it lied defeated at the feet of our hero’s.
Upon further investigation of the dead bodies, and evil worhipping ground, the remains of the Brother-in-law of Magnimar were found. It would seem that his intoxicated ramblings and questionable ways were not the cause of missing taxes, but instead his sacrafice by a cultist group. We gathered sentimental pieces to bring back to the family so they could greive the lost, and collected the taxes to put the small town in good stead.
Having saved Ravenmoore from it’s dark secret, the group put in motion the rebuilding of the village’s religion, the pretty vixen promised to assist in the rebuilding of Desna’s church and we left them to their devices.
So Ravenmoore or less? Well in that one fateful and cleansing night, the town of Ravenmore lost over a quarter of it’s inhabitants, taking it from more to less. With many key heads being a part of the cult in order to bring them good crops, it’s anyone’s guess as to if they had enough people to sustain the town, or if they had enough crops to eat – chances are by now, there’s nothing left but the ghosts of those used to yield good crops quietly pushing around the unkept fields, waiting for a time when Desna’s true blessings will set them free into the clear and starry sky.