Deposed Wästland* nobleman, Lord Margar, heir of the fallen house of Tünstal, buried his aunt Marathuk in her mausoleum in the grounds of her artillery-blasted manor. She bequeathed to him a dying wish: restore the Staff of Awful Light — her most prized possession — to the village of Tünstal that his family has presided over for generations. It is, according to Lady Marathuk, the only thing that can protect the village from the coming harbingers of the world's inevitable demise.
Alas, with the land slowly descending into ruin, Margar finds himself — along with many rich and poor throughout the Western Kingdom — without a home, at the whim of a mad and paranoid despot, King Fathmu IX. All the same, Margar and a loyal band of outcast companions made their way to the ruined chapel of St. Olundan on the shores of the Tragic Lands: a vast marsh stretching eastward into the Endless Sea, for this legend-haunted edifice was where she believed the stolen Staff was taken, years before. She was not wrong.
Beneath the chapel, the six companions recovered the Staff of Awful Light from the inexplicable horrors that dwelt in its crypt. Through peculiar happenstance, the companions also discovered a map to Castle Risten, the home of Baron Risten, tucked in the pocket of a screaming hag. Lord Margar recognised the woman; she was once the devoted nurse-maid of a childhood friend of his, the son of Baron Risten and heir to the Risten estate...yet he disappeared when he was but fourteen years of age.
The companions have agreed that travelling to Castle Risten is their next port of call, much to the chagrin of Barbarister, Lord Margar's horse, who frequently speaks to his master (though no-one else seems to hear). The horse believes Aunt Marathuk's wish to return the staff to the village should be the top priority, but something calls Lord Margar to investigate Castle Risten...and so this is where he leads his companions.
* you pronounce this as 'Vest-land', by the way
THE STAFF OF AWFUL LIGHT
As for the staff itself, it appears more of a spear than a staff: a long shaft, mounted by a jagged blade with strange runic markings thereon. Forged from a unidentifiable metal, charred and heavily pitted throughout, the whole thing appears to be very, very ancient. And yet, despite its name, no light seems to emit from it, and one wonders how it came to be called such. If anything, it looks to be a useful weapon...
CASTLE RISTEN
After bidding farewell to Prügl — who was certain his unseen nemesis had nearly caught up with him and he must find somewhere safer to hide — and after also bidding farewell to Grin — who said he and his monkey companion had a cathedral to desecrate somewhere — the remainder of the party followed the map for a day through the wooded wilds of eastern Wästland.
Not far from Baron Risten's lands, Lord Margar found a good spot to rest in a quiet birch grove, a stone’s throw away from a tiny village populated by poor farmers, much like Tünstal. After chopping down some trees with Fechr's axe, to make a fire, and feasting on their supplies, they fell into a deep sleep.
"Wake up, you wretched scum!"
A voice abruptly woke the vagabonds up, revealing the angry faces of a group of armed guards wearing studded aketons, all bearing the coat of arms of Baron Risten: a white boar's head on a yellow and black striped field.
"Those trees that you felled are property of Baron Risten V! You shall lay your weapons down and follow us to request a pardon, or you'll pay for your crimes here and now!"
Violence was out of the question — so Barbarister counselled his Lord — not when caught off-guard by so many foes. So the Lord and his friends decided to obey, and see if they could solve this without risking their necks needlessly. But once at the run-down Castle, they were blindfolded and brought to the dungeon to be locked there for a long stay in a dark, windowless cell, shared with the slowly decaying body of a corpse. All the crew's belongings and their pets have been taken from them, including wise Barbarister!
A month passes, and there has been no word from Baron Risten. Perhaps he has forgotten about the party? Perhaps he was never informed of their arrival? Perhaps this is where they will end their days? But, sure enough, each and every evening (not that they can tell the difference between night and day anymore), the jail warden, Wemut, pays them a visit, with his hateful grin and disgusting flaccid body, to feed the party kitchen scraps, most of the time mouldy and greasy, chucking them through the jail cell bars.
"Here’s your royal meal, my little piggies!"
Thankfully, Giant-Dances-the-Sea, an alien life-form hatched from an egg in one of the southern swamps, has a special ability: he can conjure a strangely delicious food every day from thin air. This the party has been surviving on, throwing Wemut's kitchen-slop straight into their waste-pot.
TODAY
Today is a day like any other. The miserable party languishes away in the darkness of the cell, trying to encourage each other, though their hope is waning fast. As the evening draws on, soon the party hear the all-too familiar footsteps of Wemut, bringing his bucket of filthy fare.
The haunting melody of Prügl's lute has long faded from the party's ears, and their natural abilities have returned. Those whose minds were sharpened but bodies weakened have regained their muscular power, and those whose mental faculties were lost yet bodies enhanced have regained their cognitive focus. Your online character sheets have been updated to reflect this.
First actions:
- Malaiz, could you roll a d100 to see if the shard of blade inside you reaches your heart?
- Could everybody roll their daily Omens? Malaiz: d4, GDTS: d4, Margar: d2, Fechr: d2.
- Could everybody roll their daily Powers? (d4 + your Presence stat)
- Giant Dances the Sea, could you roll your daily unknown innate spell? (d20)
