D&D 5e: The Butchers of Buldran

[Orikanyo]

Maribelle


It was now or never, best she took the now.


Her eyes went to one of the few smaller hounds that were left, as the larger one fled the scene. To clear out the riff raff is to make certain the enemy doesn't unexpectantly get the upper hand, hounds are pack hunters, this much anybody would know, they harrass and harry with smaller attacks and then come in with the largest of the dogs to bring down the prey, humans have learned this tactic long ago, in fact now it is done in much larger circumstances as well, even if full armies or even kingdoms... Sadly this thought process will stay within her head, bringing her intelligent thoughts to words is like trying to sew two live snakes together, it just wont work and you'll get more bites then you'd ever want.


Snatching her thoughts away from mass military strategy she rushed towards the smaller hound, axe raised as she shifted her grip on the axe, allowing for increased reach on her swing, in a hope to catch a hit on another target.(Battle master superiority, cleave effect into agacent target, only deals supriority dam 1d8), and with an large wind up she attempted a over head chop upon the disgusting hound.


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[Grimsvald]

The brute swung her weapon through clear air. Before her practiced blade could sever snarling head from smoky body, the enemy had already fallen victim to the tiefling's powerful magics. She would find herself much closer to the large beast, but holding no more of its attention. If it attempted to run towards any of Maribelle's allies she would be in a prime location to cut it down.

 

[Grimsvald]

Cadel slowly marched into the courtyard. From across the clearing he stared into the many eyes of this shadowy beast. Somewhere in the glint of those rubys he could see the old man's surprised face. The look of an unarmed villager being torn to the ground in a bloody fit would haunt him. It always did..thank the gods for magical items like the nightcap in his bag.


Cadel taunts the beast, "We've seen how well those fangs rip into innocent flesh, but lets set if they can rend something with a little less give." He slams his warhammer against his shield and stands ready. "Test your teeth on my steel dark one!" The shield raised to block. ~I am Cadel I fight for those who cannot fight themselves~ he chanted in his head.


The hound could not resist the taunt of a holy man. Even with the ranger's deadly potential still hanging over his head. The hound chooses to rush towards Cadel. The creatures smoke form twists and spirals unpredictably as it rushes across the courtyard. With all its speed it still would not make it to the paladin before everyone managed another attack.

 

[Grimsvald]

When the hound predictably charged Maribelle was ready. A smokey spiral attempted to fly past her but she cut through it with her mighty axe. She hit nothing solid, but she knew she hit something. Her weapon slowed down on contact as if passing through a raging stream. When her axe came out the other side it was dripping with darkness. Whispes of black flow down from her steel and fade away.

 

[JR McCormick]

Tháron


His shafts had seemingly penetrated the black fog that made up their ghostly torsos, and spun wildly out of direction. To whatever realm these beasts belonged, it was clear the tools of man could not return them.


He sighed deeply, and stretched his right arm over his shoulder in search of a fresh arrow. Notching it to the string, he drew sharply and held his breath. The creature that remained was on course for Cadel, and at that moment a flash came to him. Tháron recalled what happened in the old man's house. The shattered rubies that once ornamented their eyes, then decorating the floor.


His breath released, and with it the bow string lost tension. The arrow soared immediately toward the hound's right eye.


Their bodies were nothing but smoke... but their eyes were tangible.


And they could be broken.


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[mechanimated]

Syboden let her magics fade, thoroughly pleased with the success of her spell. The smoke-and-darkness monstrosity fled from her in pure terror, and she reveled in the sensation of power. Maybe it didn't always work out the way she wanted, but man was it nice to be a fearsome spell-slinger every once in a while. Problem was, Syboden was running out of spells. If this fight didn't end soon, she was going to be tackling the beast with nothing more than a dagger and witty repartee -and as much credit as the wizard gave her cutting wordplay, she didn't think a slobbering construct hungry for flesh would be particularly discouraged by a well-timed joke about its mother. Luckily, the thing was still far enough away for Syboden to feel confident in standing her ground and throwing her magery at it once more. It was charging Cadel, which was fortunate. The tiefling, though by no means frail, did prefer to have a nice, meaty swordsman between herself and any threats.


Contemplating her magical arsenal, Sybodan reached into her component bag and crushed several ingredients in her fist. She drew on Cadel's divine blessing as she cast, willing her missile to fly true. A poisonous green light blossomed and spilled from between her fingers, dripping and vanishing into nothingness before hitting the ground.


"Tinctavenauem"

Melf's Acid Arrow - Target takes 4d4 initial acid damage, and an additional 2d4 damage at the end of its next turn. On a miss, the target takes half initial damage and no lingering damage.

​

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[Grimsvald]

When Tharon's arrow met with the shadow hound it was still a spiraling mass of smoke. The arrow passed between black tendrils of darkness, hitting nothing until it dug into dirty. Although the release was unfortunately timed the power behind the arrow was strong. The arrow sticks into the ground.


As the creature took form on the end of its leap Syboden's poison arrow proved itself more effective. The long lance of green magic pierced through the beast with noticeable damage done. A fist sized chunk of darkness was wrenched out of the center of the beast. The pain caused it to growl, but it kept its eye focused on Cadel. Within seconds the fist sized hole in the center of the shadow hound sealed shut. Now its form seemed a bit thinner and greener...poison lingered within the smoky form of their enemy punishing it over time.


It was clear that the enemy now stood on unsteady paws. The shape of it was inconsistent and its head began to lower. What ever they were doing, it was working, but the shadow hound is determined to bite into this paladin before it sees its life ended.

 

[ShadowedNexus]

Cadel


After taunting the hound, Cadel prepared for his next action. He wouldn't have too much time before the hound arrived to tear into him, so it would probably be best to get the first strike. The beast at least appeared to be on it's last legs, so Cadel knew one strike would most likely be enough to take it down. Noting the distance between himself and the hound, Cadel knew he could make that distance if needed. After considering all he could do, Cadel decided to charge towards the hound.


Cadel could feel the fury of the hound and he neared it, radiating from the beast las a thick aura of hate and malice. The powerful aura strengthened his resolve and confirmed his need to destroy such an aberration. As he neared the beast Cadel called upon divine blessings, surrounding his Warhammer in a divine shining light. He mustered all the strength he could, and unleashed a mighty swing down upon the beast.


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[dice]18371[/dice]


(Divine Smite)


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[Grimsvald]

The hound lunged towards Cadel ready to chomp down on him with dripping black fangs. The holy warrior managed to swing his gleaming hammer just in time to bring the creature's life to an end. As the warhammer swung in on the beast's head, holy light created a red, violet spectrum through its ruby eyes. For just one moment the hound seemed to be completely tangible. Cadel's hammer crashed against its jaw like hurricane waves destroying an old cliff side. The hounds head exploded flinging chunks of black meat and fragments of black bone rolling across the ground towards Syboden. The chunks quickly faded into smoke by her feet. This revealed a single chip of ruby spinning like a dreidel.


This victory brought about a particular brand of silence and relief. As they each watch the creature's body fall apart and fade away they are assured it is dead, but reminded it was not alone. There have been no signs of it's keeper returning. The butcher's return seems imminent so it may linger on their minds, but there was no evidence as to when it would be. The crackling of the flaming building grows loader until it is noticed. One of the support-beams gives out a screech then bursts. Splinters of word spray out and the roof begins to collapse. This fire is slowly spreading onto the next building.


[initiative order ends]


Will the party react to this fire or give themselves time to rest after sending those fiendish hounds back to hell?

 

[Orikanyo]

Maribelle, once the hounds were finished, put her mind you another use, trying to find water for the building.


Easier said then done, but regardless she had to help these people, it was her job as a hero no? She remembered some magic users could.. create water, but.. did her friend have that spell? No, she had to rely on herself for now.


"We need water... get people out of building!' she pointed to the others in a manner that seemed somewhat like a order... maybe? A slight suggestion?


She hustled about to look for a water source she could easily draw from, and a bucket of course.


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or use her passive perception if it pleases you, otherwise she knows what she is doing.

 

[mechanimated]

Syboden watched Cadel smash the hellhound into smoking chunks, letting out a loud whoop of glee as it disintegrated. The last gleaming ruby fleck came to rest at her feet, and she scooped it up, holding it to the light. Hmm. Perhaps there was something here that could give her a hint about the creatures master. If any magic lingered in the gem, the wizard hoped to probe it and infer something, anything, about the bizarre butcher who had sicced the foul thing on them.


After a minute or two looking over the ruby every which way, Syboden suddenly jumped at a reverberating CRACK. Right, right, the burning house. The tiefling turned, peering into the blaze. A beam collapsed as she watched, splintering into charred pieces and sending out a spray of embers. Mmmm...this was no good. Syboden eyed the blazing hovel critically. Perhaps what had worked on the beasts would work here as well. She wouldn't be able to save this home, but perhaps the rest of the town could be kept from going up in smoke. Syboden remembered a demonstration she had seen, when she was just learning the basics of spell weaving. A student had let his flame get out of control, and the master put it out not with water, but a concussive blast. She could remember even now the ripple of hot air that stirred her hair when it happened. There was no guarantee it would work as well when scaled up, but it couldn't hurt to try. If nothing else, between the fire and having already set off Shatter once inside the house, the structure couldn't be very stable. Even if it didn't put out the fire entirely, the rickety hut would probably collapse on itself, which would smother much of the flames.


"I'm gonna try something! I wouldn't stand too close..."


She glanced around, making sure her fellows were clear of the blast site. It'd be a damn shame if, after surviving all that, one of her companions was impaled by a chunk of burning house. Syboden focused her spell toward the base of the house. Fire drew fresh air in along the ground, and heat and smoke rose up above it. If she could disrupt the flow of air with the blast, perhaps it would be enough. Plus, again, it might at least make the house cave in.


"Shatter."





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[Grimsvald]

Maribelle finds nothing in the way of water. Though this may not be a fault of her own. The land by their feet is dry and cracked beneath this blazing sun for a reason. Water in this area is far from abundant. She remembers that the old man mentioned streams to the north, but she has no idea how far away they are.


Syboden spells works gloriously. For a moment she feels like a teacher herself. All but 1 support beam explodes causing the home to crumble away from the rest of the establishments around it. It falls a few feet out into the courtyard, but everyone is well out of the way. 90% of the flames extinguish which leaves the home in a smoldering undangerous heap.


The upper level of the home is left at an incline towards one unburned corner towards the back left of the home. Something large and heavy slides down the incline crashing through tinderwood walls and tumbling out into the court. A slightly scorched wooden chest sealed with a simple lock. It must be something treasured and secret for the oldman to keep it hodden away in this addic of sorts.


Syboden is forced to examine the ruby closely in order to withdraw any information. There is no magic within the gem and its clear there never was. It is simply a material component. An untrained eye would stop here. She would not.


While the arcane energy dissipates Syboden is able to note disolving threads of the magic woven together. Each thread has a distinct color and texture in her mind which allows her to pick appart the spell. The spell is well practiced, refined and even personally tweeked by its caster. Though this spell may be sitting in a book found in any arcane college, you would need extra notes scribled in the margins to cast it this powerfully.


That being said...the spell has been sloppily tossed together. Replicated so often for so long that its caster has gotten careless with his magic. Also something tells her that the cast does not rely on spells and probably has few among its repertoire. They do not think like a mage. They don't even think like a cleric.

 

[mechanimated]

Syboden was utterly baffled by the weaving attached to the ruby. Sloppy, yet powerful. Practiced, yet lazy. The exact opposite of the work of a true mage, despite the strength of the summoning. What could it mean? Perhaps this butcher was employing magic not his own...Syboden had heard of such things, 'enslaving' a spell in a powerful artifact that anyone could use even without wizardry of their own. This would definitely bear further investigation. She'd compare it to her own arcane notes tonight, see what could be seen. Pocketing it for later, Syboden turned her focus back to the burning house.


The spell worked fantastically. A bubble of hot air rushed out, stirring the wizards cloak, as the upper floors collapsed into the lower and extinguished the bulk of the flames. Here and there, wood still crackled, but for the most part the wreckage was a charred and smoking, but no longer alight, heap. Out of the smoldering mess, a chest tumbled neatly down a miraculously intact plank of wood, smashing through the weakened side of the house to land heavily practically at Syboden's feet. The lock on it looked crude and cheap. Not surprising, considering the state of the rest of the house. Syboden hesitated, sparing a brief thought of pity for the dead old man, before attempting to pry it open. Not like whatever was inside would do him much good anymore, and perhaps there'd be something useful in there...like a map to this other town the old fellow had mentioned.


On her travels, Syboden had met characters from all walks of life, including more than a couple of the thievish persuasion. What she gathered from them was that attacking the lock directly was the last resort. Always go for the less obvious weak spots. For example...the hinges. Instead of trying to pick or smash the lock, Syboden looked to see if it was possible to push the pin out of the hinges and open the chest backwards.


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[JR McCormick]

Tháron


The beasts had met their end, and it relieved Tháron to the point of jovial possibilities. Not that he would dare smile at the death of any creature. Bow in hand, the leather clad ranger stepped past the rubble which had once played house to the old man, and sent a white globule of saliva sailing to the earth. Less interested in magical remains, his eyes took to the horizon in search of the Butcher.


Without breaking eye contact with the distant ground, Tháron dropped his pack to the ground and fished amongst his belongings. It had been a stroke of luck that his accoutrements meant so much... lest they would have perished in the fire.


Removing his left hand from the bag, he tapped Syb's shoulder and presented her with a crumpled map he had saved from the house. She was otherwise engaged, he knew, but it was high time he gathered the arrows which scattered from the battle. If the Butcher was to return, he would not have time to make more.


Peering back to the distance, he concentrated, and brought up his arm to shield his sight from the sky's glare.


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[Grimsvald]

The pin is slightly rusted over, so it takes some effort. After a few minutes you manage. The heavy pin thuds on the ground leaving the chest easily opened. Just like everything else in this town, a master craftsman didn’t put it together. A potter, a cook, a hunter or maybe the old man himself. When the worn ugly chest is peeled open it reveals an unexpectedly valuable treasure.


On the inside of the lid there is a solid gold plaque that reads “Hadryon Halohunter, Protector of Justice” Laying within the chest Syboden sees an ornate hammer. The head of the hammer is heavy and the handle is long. On both flat, unused sides of the hammer are small golden kite shields marked “Halo Crusher”. On one of the uses sides of the hammer there are many sharp fractals of topaz. They each measuring over two inches and point to a common tip. The handle is well wrapped by a thick brown cloth. It was white once, but stained this daunting brown by old blood. Every inch of this cloth is written on with magical script. Syboden would easily decipher this as a spell of protection against evil. It had been used on her before, but ignorant minded clerics. If she chose to lift it from the box it would make her fingers tingle as it fought the ancestry in her blood.


Beneath this hammer is a large folded robe; tan and brown with dark golden trimming. The outside of this robe feels cold and rough to the touch, but inside feels more comfortable than silk. If a caster were to touch this silken inlay they would feel revitalizing energy flow into them. It was infused with some kind of mana source. The abilities of this robe may be slightly beyond her mental reach. When it is removed it becomes clear that there is something in the robes front pocket. Inside there is a large black ring, more sized for someone’s wrist than their finger. It is engraved in Infernal language. “To my sweet Paylea, something to cover that chip in your horn”. This engraving has been colored gold with an enchanting dust. Syboden would be unsure of this horn rings power, but she can tell it is not dangerous.


Tharon sees no one between him and the horizon. Wind blows dust and tumble weeds. It is like nature is whispering to him, telling him how empty this world has become now that the butchers sit in power.

 

[mechanimated]

Triumphantly, Syboden threw back the wooden lid, pleased that her idea had worked. Her eyes widened at the magical trove concealed inside the beaten, charred old chest. Who could have thought that this old man had something of such value? The worksmanship on the items was exquisite, clearly cast by a masterful enchanter, and the materials used were of astoundingly fine quality. Syboden lifted the hammer, hefting its weighty mass with difficulty. The divine aura radiating from it was evident even without a closer inspection of its magical properties. The tiefling could feel the cool metal beneath her fingers tingle with powerful energies. It was truly a gorgeous piece of work. Somehow, Syboden guessed that any malign creature that found itself at the wrong end of this weapon would be in for a hell of a surprise. Laying it aside, she turned back to the rest of the fascinating find. Hadryon Halohunter....? A familiar name. Syboden racked her brains, running a travel-worn hand over the gleaming plaque. After a second's thought, she pried it free with her knife and tucked it into her bag. Who knows? It might well be solid gold, considering the rest of the contents. And if not, perhaps someone elsewhere would be able to tell her more about it.


"Cadel! You might want to take a look at this warhammer. It's...impressive. I think you'll find it to your evil-smashing tastes, eh?"


The cloth that had covered the hammer slipped to the ground, and Syboden picked it up and examined it. A powerful spell. Her fingers tingled, as though with electricity, while she held it. Not painful, but not entirely pleasant either. Given enough time, the wizard was confident she could transcribe and use this spell. Considering the creatures they had faced today, it would no doubt come in handy. Pulling out her spellbook, Syboden folded and tucked the cloth between its pages for later.


Ahhh, so many treasures! The horn ring passed through her hands next. She was surprised to find something meant for a tiefling in this land, and clearly a fine gift. "...The chip in your horn...", muttered Syboden thoughtfully. Paylea, a tiefling name, and the carving in Infernal. She traced the beautiful script, the sight of something so familiar so far from home jarring her. The arcane auras of these items were...pleasant, was the best way to describe them. Not that this made them particularly trustworthy - some of the most dangerous artifacts enticed unsuspecting individuals to put them on or use them. The presence of the warding against evil encouraged her however, so she reached up and slipped it onto her own horn. It was kind of pretty. Syboden had never owned anything so fancy - nice things tended to make you a target on the road.


Lastly, Syboden fully unfolded the robe, standing and holding it out at arms length. It looked well-made but plain from the outside, but her attunement to magic energies let her sense its hidden powers. The inside felt softer than the finest silk, warmer than the most expensive ermine. An item so modest in design compared to the quality of enchantment meant something, certainly. Perhaps the tiefling who owned it, too, was a wanderer. Someone who needed to hide their wealth or skill.


Thoughtfully, Syboden examined it more closely, striving to perceive the exact nature of the spells woven into its cloth. "A clever wizard never trusts an enchantment whose casting she didn't see," she intoned under her breath, old lessons still remembered reverberating through her skull. I guess I'm more curious than I am clever. Syboden slipped the robe on, marveling at the comfort and fit of it.


"Oh!"


She was drawn from her inspection of the fascinating chest by Tháron, who presented her with a map. He seemed preoccupied, scanning the horizon with anxious eyes. Wise, perhaps, to keep an eye out for the return of the butcher. Ahh, well, that was what meat and muscle were for! Wizards had no time to play lookout when there were fascinating toys to examine. She unfolded the map, dusting off ash and peering at the worn lines. Smart of him to grab it, as it had their intended destination marked for them...assuming they ended up going there.


"Hey, fellas? Why don't we get nice and cozy and decide what to do next. I am just all about figuring out our next destination before that big, smelly bugger with the hellhounds makes a reappearance. I'm flat out of spells. And do any of you know who this 'Halohunter' fellow is? I swear I've seen the name before."


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(((Woops, forgot to add the +1s from the magical horn ring, since these are all int checks. So it's actually 25, 9, and 13)))

 

[Grimsvald]

When Syboden puts on the Halo Horn Hold she feels more confident in the knowledge she has. Anything she felt pretty sure about, she now felt positively sure about. Anything she felt positively sure about was now irrefutable fact. That wasn't just an arrogance it was an enhancement of intelligence. With the magical coat covering her whole body, there was more skin to fabric contact, more information pooling into her mind.


Slowly the reality of this robe became clear to her. There wasn't a mana source within these fabrics, more like a counter spell with a storage facility. A storage facility that is currently filled with a very familiar magic. The very fire magic she used to burn this house to the ground now lingered within the threads. As the house was burning this coat was absorbing the arcane power in the air. The teifling is positively sure that she could draw that power out of the coat and add it into her next spell's potency.


When she asked if anyone knew anything about Halohunter someone spoke up. A young voice she didn't know yet. "His name was Hadryon and he would be happy to know you adventurers don this gear before your journey. Especially you.." He nodded towards Syboden. "You remind me of his wife. Well, the paintings I saw of her. Follow me to our town hall building. You can plan your next move and I will tell you everything I know about him." The boy began walking towards the building right next to the old man's house. It is now that the party realizes everyone had come out from hiding to stare at them.

 

[JR McCormick]

Tháron


The half elf had gathered what arrows he could from the dust, and set them back in his quiver. It was not long before the townsfolk had emerged from their homes, likely curious of the peculiar group that stood before them. It was true, Tháron was not accustomed to a great deal of interaction, and for this reason he chose to step back.


He didn't know these people, and they didn't know him. In truth, he had not thought much of their safety when defending their town, and was more concerned with his own preservation.


Having said that, he did not actively wish harm on anyone that did not deserve it... and the women and children in this town did not deserve to be terrorised by this Butcher.


Looking to the child... his mind wandered. Where was the boy's father? Or any of the town's men? Would they not fight for their families? Would they not take up arms against these oppressors, rather than lock their doors and hide? This was not the way of animals... and it was not his way.

 

[Orikanyo]

Maribelle





Looking to her friends, or atleast compatriots she saw Syboden rummaging around in a box, donning new accouterments. In truth, it didn't seem like anything Maribelle would be interested... but admitably they looked fitting on the woman. Magic things go to magic folks no? Mari was not suited to such things, she was plain, so the mundane is hers to wield.


Regardless, a child spoke, but not as a child would, what strove him to speak so... She couldn't say.. but it peaked her interest, that much if for certain.


"Tháron, Syboden, let us follow the child, he speaks oddly... but perhaps he may know of something we do not."


She spoke these words quickly, hoping she wasn't intruding on their thoughts, it was a strange battle, but they got out unscathed so there was little things to worry about, best they moved onto larger matters...


Plus... the stares unnerved her... it made her heart uneasy, best she got out of sight.

 

[Grimsvald]

Those who chose to follow the boy into the town hall find temporary sanctuary from the staring eyes of the town’s people. He sits down at a long table and invites everyone else to do the same. This building is cramped for a town hall, but large compared to the old man’s house. Like the rest of Stice it is built poorly. All four corners of the room stand at different heights causing the roof to be uneven. Every chair around this long table is different. Some are tall wicker chairs while others are smaller plank wood, some stools and even cut off tree stumps.


The boy didn’t wait for everyone to sit down before he began, as long as someone was within earshot. “Hadryon was a great man, not just a good man. I know he didn’t look like much when you met him, but he used to be a devastating force on the battlefield. My father used to tell me stories about Hadryon every night before bed. Most parents told their children these stories. Come to think of it, they might be the only stories we know anymore. “ The boys eyes wondered. There aren’t as many parents around to tell the stories these days.


“He…he really was our hero. Some called him our protector, others called him our savior and some called him Halo Hunter. Back when the evil emperor ruled over our kingdom he had a fearsome elite guard called the Blood Angels. These monsters were forged together by god, but fell from grace to serve devils like our king. Those with wings died them red, those with halos and celestial eyes wore dark vales. They were the things of nightmares, but Hadryon stood up to them without a second thought.” A young girl put her hand over his on the table. She placed a bowl of cabbage soup and some old bread in front of him. “Thank you sis.” he smiled to her. She stood beside him and gave him a kiss on the forehead.


The sister spoke up, “Throughout those turbulent times Hadryon formed a very intimate relationship with his military advisor. She was so beautiful and such a unique vision. A teifling named Paylea. She was so smart, always 10 steps ahead of everyone. All the women envied her, the girls looked up to her and the boys couldn’t stop looking AT her.” The girl sighed. She couldn’t help gushing admiration when talking about her. “It’s funny to think how much everyone loved her considering how afraid of her we all were when she arrived. We had never seen anyone like her before. We thought she was evil so we all kept away from her. Hadryon was the first person brave enough to talk to her. It wasn’t long before he was in love and his approval was enough convincing for any of us. Once the reign of the Blood Angels and the Emperor was over Hadryon and Paylea settled down, but in time she died from illness. Of course he was never as chipper or outgoing after that…They would both be happy to see you putting this gear to good use again.” The skinny young girl smiled weakly to them.


Her brother coaxed her into a chair beside him. “Take it easy now.” He looked to the party, “We don’t really have anything of material to help you, but if you have any questions about the area we may be able to inform you.”

 

[Agent of Evil]

Xi looked around the wretched hole his current job had sent him to. A lot of his missions were like this. An unsigned letter directing him to here or there. No communication with his employer save the target. No indication of why they wanted someone dead or what was to be gained. But this job was just... off. All of his previous contracts involved wealth. Sure, sometimes he was sent into the slums, but it was always to a well established and discreet brothel to deal with a minor noble or knight that had seen one whore to many and pissed off his wife. Never in his life had he been sent to such a pit. But a contract was a contract. He had agreed to this job and he would see it through or die trying.


He knew he was late and wondered if the burned building was what he was sent to prevent. However that made little sense. A few dozen copper-a-day thugs would have been better at that sort of thing than a man of his talents, cheaper too. He looked about and notices signs of activity in a dilapidated building that was marginally less decrepit than any other in the town. That had to be the civic center. If he was going to figure out what was going on that seemed like the best place to start. He brushed the dust off his simple, unmarked, grey robes and headed towards the town hall. Whatever was going on, he was sure it wouldn't be boring.

 

[Grimsvald]

Maribelle chose not to take a chair. She leaned her back against the wall and crossed her arms. She could feel the weak wood slightly give way to her bulk. She didn't want to be the first to break this silence, but it got heavier by the moment and no one else showed signs of questioning the boy. "Enough of the hero. Tell us of Butcher."


The boy looked to her with questioning narrow eyes. He hadn't expected this question. If they didn't know who and what the Butcher was, why were they here? He forced the expression to fade from his face and he explained, "It is said that he and all the other butchers used to be heroes. They were the only ones able to stand up against the evil Emperor and kill him. Even though they were barbarians from the southland we didn't expect we were trading out one evil for another. Once the Emperor was dethroned these heroes turned on us. They were worse than anything before them. They named themselves the butchers, but our bards gave them some individuality." The boy drank a bit of his soup then pushed it towards his sister encouraging her to eat as well.


"The terrible butcher that haunts us here in Stice is known as the Crazed Carver. The stories and songs say that he used to be the groups tracker. They always described him as one with nature before he turned. That gentle hunter now hunts humanoid prey. That friend of woodland kind has seen to turning his familiars into shadowy beasts. If he kills you he will drag you away to a secret cabin in the woods where he will tan your hide and eat your insides raw. He probably sits there now waiting for his fiendish pets to bring him the corpse of Hadryon...He will be furiously disappointed." The boy begins to get angry again when he remembers that the hero Hadryon is dead. His sister calms him and slides the bowl back to him.

 

[JR McCormick]

Tháron


The hall was queer of shape, to say the least. Crooked and misshapen, the ceiling corners loomed awkwardly overhead. As Tháron entered, he was greeted with the tail end of the young boys speech. Words clung to him, and an image of that hulking man devouring his own raw insides crept into the forefront of his mind.


He brushed the thought aside, and made for the wall which faced the siblings. Leaning, Tháron's left boot rose to balance his stance against the creaking wood. A small dagger found its way into his palm, which flicked lazily for a moment before its tip began picking the dirt from his nails.


The building, in his opinion, did not hold the majority of oddness in this scenario. His attention was in fact drawn toward the children. They spoke for the community, and that caused him some element of concern. Again, he thought of the men... and their willingness to allow this horror. They were weak, and perhaps they didn't deserve his help. These children on the other hand seemed older than their years. Youth stolen by the butchers, and the families that allowed this to happen.

 

[mechanimated]

The strange children brought Syboden out of her musing, and she stood to follow them. Maribelle mentioned their queer speech, but the tiefling found nothing strange about it. She had traveled far, and seen much. When war ripped the young from the bosoms of their parents, adulthood came swiftly and with a blood price. The hollow eyes, the slightly trembling hands...she had seen it all before. The wizards mouth quirked momentarily into a small smile as the little girl gushed about her hero, Paylea. That was different, a tiefling spoken of in tones of such admiration. And the boy had said she reminded him of the dead woman. The small smile became a proper grin. How very flattering.


After a moment, Syboden stood and circled the table, pulling a chair with her. She couldn't watch these wretched urchins much longer. Always the effervescent socialite, it was in her nature to just act on her urges and trust charm to let her get away with it. Putting the chair between the two children, Syboden rifled through her bag and pulled out food of her own. She always carried rations, and while they weren't exactly kingly, they'd be better than this thin cabbage water. She offered the boy a scrap of cloth to wipe his face and hands and laid half a dense milk biscuit before him, along with a strip of chewy but quite palatable cured meat. Taking the girl onto her lap, Syboden wiped her cheeks free of soot and grim with her sleeve before offering her the same.


"Well then, you two might just be the heroes I need. I've come from very far away, you see, and don't know much about this land. These butchers explain a lot about the sad and cowering nature of the people. They've lived too long under murderous bootheels. They don't know any other way...Here," she said, pulling out the map and laying it on the table in front of the youths, "look at this for me. Hadryon told us to go here," she pointed to Inju, circled messily in red, "and look for help. Do you know who he might have meant? The name began with a 'D', but he hadn't managed to get it out in time."

 

[Grimsvald]

The little girl welcomed Syboden's forward personality and kind actions without hesitation. She took the biscuit in both hands and sheepishly nibbled on it while the tiefling explained. The little girl smiled so bit that her eyes became slits. Then she nodded and lowered the biscuit to speak. "Inju is not a place. There is IN, a central city to our nation. It is definitely the biggest city I have ever heard of. It has a large castle in it which used to belong to the emperor. Then there is JU a city just south west of that central city. It is not nearly as big, but it is much better off than we are here in Stice. If Hadryon asked you to meet someone in Inju he must have meant for you to meet them on the road in between.


The girl ate more of her bisuit and talked with crumbs fumbling out of her mouth, "The only people Hadryon ever knew were from his days as a soldier. So it must be another soldier. That hammer is a thing of legend. I am sure if you flash that around at the right people they will point you in the right direction. Make sure not to flash it to the wrong people. Someone faithful to the butchers is likely to have your head."


While the sister spilled everything she knew the brother was less receptive. He seemed skeptical of Syboden's motherly role playing. He broke up the biscuit and dropped it into his cabbage water. He took one good bite of the meat then dropped the rest into his soup as well. Quietly he stood from his chair and walked over to a door way, "Kratha, aop p'jud dios. Eiy maaf up" he said handing the soup off to a frail looking older boy. "Eiy maaf up qita p'jom qa" The boy reluctantly took it with a slight head bow. Then he began to eat. The brother then returned to the table. "Just stay clear of the men who look like they have nothing left to lose. They are usually in the butcher's pocket."