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PostPosted: Thu Jul 02, 2015 2:51 pm 
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Here, players may deposit notes, clues, thoughts, febrile imaginings, confessions, last wills and testaments, and sundry.
DMs too!

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PostPosted: Tue Aug 25, 2015 12:29 pm 
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The Sinister Rumors of Briarsgate:

DM wrote:
... you find the normally-tedious city gripped in the thrall of one fearful topic. It seemed all men there, from merchant prince to lowly barkeep, have become skittish, gossiping washerwomen; their nervous lips abuzz with anxious, whispered rumors of strange tales about a village called Briarsgate, to the east, beyond the Dim Forest.

“Sinister and mysterious evil is at work in Briarsgate. The village itself is somehow being altered.”

DM wrote:
“'Patron?' Folks ‘round here call me Alfredd, miss. You might as well, too.” He wiped down the bar and continued, happy to talk to a young woman, “Hochoch is a fine, upstanding city. No one wants any troubles here, and that’s all there is to that, if you please.
"But Briarsgate… well that’s another story entirely, I’m afraid."


He started drying and putting away glasses for the night. “Where to start? Briarsgate’s a farming village, at the crossroads of Hochoch, Hookhill and… Shiboleth. It was founded… when?” The barkeep looked at the floor for the answer. “…Was it over a generation ago, Daisy my dear?

Daisy, the large bulky barmaid, nodded her confirmation and said, “Oi, ‘at’s roight.”

Alfredd continued. “Ye see, back then, explorers reported the land north of the Rushmoors and east of the Dim Forest extremely fertile. Soon after the arrival of many farmer families, the village of Briarsgate was born, named after the dense bramble thickets that surround it, or so I’m told.
"The land proved rich, with crops half again as normal, and word spread. Briarsgate grew into a thriving, successful town of…”
he looked at the ceiling this time. “…over 400 people?"

“Aw! Not 'alf!” said Daisy.

Alfredd shrugged. “In any event, these hardy, frontier farmers organized a well-trained militia to fend off goblin and ogre raids from the Dim Forest. Well, those fell creatures soon learned that Briarsgate was a settlement best left alone. Lately, however, the story turns darker. Ye’ve heard the rumors, miss. Terrible, they are."

“Quite!” said one of the other adventurer-guests of the Anchor and the Bell; a drowsy, white-bearded man with a young, mercurial spirit. “They say the well water at Briarsgate has been poisoned by a rather powerful drug. The poor villagers have gone mad, you see.”

“No,” said a dark, thin spider of a man with a black turban atop his high head. His suspicious eyes slid across the room as he solemnly uttered, “I’ve heard it whispered that a black sorcerer from the Valley of the Mage has moved to the Dim Forest, to work his foul enchantments upon the unsuspecting townsfolk.”

“Och!” rumbled a fat, bald-pated, ginger-bearded dwarf. He squinted one beady little eye as he imparted his sage wisdom on the matter. “I happen to have it on good authority, lads and lasses, that ‘tis the ghosts of slaughtered goblins that haunt Briarsgate, as revenge for their bloody massacre!”

An aloof elf, who moved and spoke like a human, coldly laughed at that one as he returned from the outhouse. “Ghosts, eh? I expect the motives will prove a bit more mundane. Whatever it is, there’s money behind it. There always is. You don’t attack an entire village without profit. Bandits, I hear.”

An eager young hobbit at the bar wiggled his furry toes in anticipation as they dangled from his high stool. He peered around his big tankard and offered, “Beggin’ your pardons. If’n you don’t mind me sayin’ so, I was told that a horrible, no-good, three-headed monster has been stealing the poor children of Briarsgate from their beds at night, and no mistake!” Then he shivered at the thought of it.

Daisy the barmaid couldn’t resist chiming in: “Oi! I ‘ear tell that savage crocodiles ‘ave been straying far north of the Rushmoors! Attackin’ folks an’ drivin’ ‘em off! The swamp is takin’ the town back! Swallowin’ ‘er up whole, it is!”

A large, hairy, well-dressed half-orc looked down his wide nose and proclaimed, “Stuff and Nonsense! I Dare Say, None of You Have The Gist Of It! If I May Be So Bold, Positively Everyone Who is In The Know Recognizes That The Good People of Briarsgate Are Being Replaced! And Their Ghastly ‘Changeling,’ if you will, Can Be Recognized by Two Dread Fang Marks On Their Throat! Rest Assured, You Have It Upon My Word As A Gentleman.”

Each of you had already heard at least one of these unsubstantiated rumors in your short time in the city. It seemed no one didn’t have an opinion about Hochoch’s favorite topic of conversation.

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PostPosted: Fri Sep 11, 2015 3:25 pm 
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The Testimony of Felicity and Killian Gade:

DM wrote:
Grothnak, Pelais and Telkis stand at the dark back door of a Farmhouse (19).

“Forgive us our failing faith, kind sir! Our convictions have been sorely tested! I fear righteousness is too much to hope for in Briarsgate! Please come in!” the young woman says, stepping back to let you enter the modest farmhouse. She fearfully looks outside once more to make sure no one is watching. Then she shuts the door and locks it.

Trembling in the darkened kitchen, she weeps softly, “I am Felicity Gade and this is my husband, Killian. Good sirs, something terrible is amiss in our village! We don’t know what to do, nor whom to trust!” she cries, unable to hold back any longer.

Killian Gade embraces and consoles his wife tenderly, and then says to you, “In truth, we fear for our lives. And the lives of our babies," his eyes flashing to the other room where they lay sleeping. "For many months now… we cannot explain the forces at work in Briarsgate. As my wife said, we cannot trust anyone here any longer. Perhaps… we can trust in outsiders," he says, looking to you with hope.

Felicity sobs uncontrollably, "Please, Merikka! Please, merciful goddess! I beg you. At long last, let our prayers be answered!"

Pelias seems uncomfortable with the crying, though he tries his best not to show it. "Mortal fear. When gripped by such a force, it infects your every though, casts doubt on every action, and renders every sleep restless. It is no way to live."

Felicity's gasping sobs become unrestrained tears of relief that someone might finally understand the nightmarish hell that their lives have become.

Pelias continues, "Perhaps you can tell us something precise of these happenings. How many are acting strangely? And what manner of action leads you to call them strange? And, with apologies in advance for offending you two - how is it that you are one of the few, if not only, that remain untainted by whatever foul force has imbued this town?"

Grothnak casts a sidelong glance at Pelias as the paladin practically interrogates the poor villagers.
"You can trust us," he says to Felicity and Killian. "Please, tell us anything you know of what has happened here."

Pelias subtly uses his holy powers to detect evil while others in his party speak. The young paladin senses no great evil here.

"Yes, yes, my dear... please don't cry. There's a dear. Who or what is bothering you? We'll take care of it. If it can be defeated by bludgeoning, I'll do it personally..." Telkis adds, waiting expectantly for the young lady's explanation.

Felicity Gade struggles to regain her composure, reassured by Telkis and her loving husband. She wipes her eyes and then looks into yours. She continues with a fragile, quavering voice, "Good sirs, please believe me when I tell you we are trapped in an unseen web of secrets. We live in terror, forsaken and forgotten. Briarsgate is dying. Once thriving and full of hope, our village has become a maze of locked doors and frightened faces!"

Killian Gade says, with steady determination, "Strangers are shunned. Trade has withered. Rumours flourish, growing wilder with each retelling. Our friends, terrified, flee their homes, abandoning their farms and the lives they've built here. Others... simply disappear. No one seems to know the cause of it all. There are no explanations for us."

“Please, sirs. Come to the back window. Let me show you,” Felicity asks as her trembling hand opens the curtains a crack. “There, the Foaming Mug Inn, over there,” she indicates the Abandoned Building (16) you passed moments ago.
Killian says, “A dozen townsfolk were found murdered there one morning, including the proprietor. A sword fight. But no one ever discovered the reason. Those people were friends and neighbors! The building’s been abandoned ever since. A year now, I reckon.”

Felicity points at the Blacksmith (15). "Over there. Poor old Jakob Smith. He's been out of his right mind for… coming on almost 10 months now. It happened suddenly and without cause."

Felicity continues, "Past Jakob's. Through there. That Rundown Farmhouse (13), Young Llewellen Cobb’s place. His new bride disappeared mysteriously six months ago. On their wedding night! No explanation. No funeral. No tombstone in the town graveyard. Llewellen won’t say what’s come of her."

Killian says, "Come to the front." He points from another window’s cracked curtains at the prosperous Farmhouse and Barn (18). "The widow Hochstedt’s spread. Her husband also disappeared this year. After 24 years of marriage. She’ll not speak of it. Nor will her three grown sons who live with her."

“Beyond her, the Book family’s place," he says, indicating the Decrepit Farmhouse and Barn (17). “A whole family up and left without a word. They were our good friends. No warning. Just gone. This was nine months ago. Never heard from any of them since. We don't know where they went.”

You all return to the back room as Felicity insists, “It can’t be that everyone is involved, it just can't be! In my heart, I trust the Mayor (at 10) and the Church (21), thank the goddess. But for some reason, we know not what, they've done nothing about it. You must believe us!"

Killian looks Pelias dead in the eye and says grimly, "No. It’s good that you mistrust us, mister. You’re right to do so. So many strangers pass through here. Like yourselves. They think it’s safe. Because it’s a town. But it’s not. It’s not safe. Don’t trust the folk you meet," he implores in deadly earnest. "Don't trust your friends."

Felicity pleads to Pelias, "The Weavers (5) in town! Speak to them if you don’t believe us! They’ve told similar stories, of strange happenings near them... at The Golden Grain Inn! (6) ...And how outsiders should avoid it at peril of their lives!"


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PostPosted: Sat Nov 21, 2015 6:57 am 
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Know Your Enemy!

Here's what you know about your mysterious foes:

    Their identities are hidden, even amongst their fellow villagers.
    They are numerous, organized, intelligent, communicate well with each other, and know their home terrain extremely well.
    They appear to prefer subterfuge, ambush and poison to fair, honest combat. But if exposed and cornered in their home, they'll fight to the last man.
    They have no fear of torture or death, except perhaps Derek Desleigh and whoever escaped the inn via a rope from the back window.
    At the inn they were striking to subdue, wanting their victims captured alive and placed in cages. After the battle at the Inn, they seemed content to burn you to death at the barnfire ambush.
    Many of them are simple farmers and villagers, but not all. Derek Desleigh successfully backstabbed Pelias.
    They might be charmed.
    They kidnapped a family that spoke to you.
    You've gotten dire warnings from the Gades that almost anyone in the village could be an enemy. You know you are being watched by villagers.
    Hoom knows the Golden Grain Inn isn't a real business, and that Bertram Beswill recently purchased an inn property in the capital city of Hookhill.
    Their goals and motives are unknown. This limited exchange offered the most insight to date:

        Inferno wrote:
        Image

        All warmth leaves Beswill's face as he steps back and says to the adventurers with icy politeness, “Please drink. I think you’ll find it quite a relief. A blessing, really. To abandon at last all the dreadful, worldly burdens you bear, many of which you’re entirely unaware until you’ve let them go. Your oaths, your duties, all your many tiresome responsibilities. The fear, the doubt, the very uncertainty of life itself. What a terrible weight. Be free of it, won’t you? We can help you do that."

        As one, all the eyes of the many different patrons watch the strangers.

        Beswill raises his glass. “May I propose a toast? …To knowing inner peace, clarity of purpose, unity, and contentment at last. Now, drink up, my friends. Drink up.”

        The inn is utterly silent... The calm before the breaking of the storm.

    The strange, old hermit claims there are three dens of evil in Briarsgate: the Golden Grain Inn, the old Foaming Mug Inn, and the Church of Merikka.
    The enemy raised villagers from the dead and condemned them to everlasting undeath. (If the heroes had slain more villagers at the first battle at the inn, would they have faced more zombies later?)
    You found an evil shrine to a horrific serpentine reptile god in the tunnels beneath the Golden Grain Inn. Undead creatures in league with the enemy seem to worship this evil thing.
    Horrific, reptilian men were discovered at the abandoned Foaming Mug Inn.


Between Derek Desleigh and the many survivors of the battle at the Golden Grain, here's what they know about you:

    They know what you look like and how you fight.
    They know there are demihumans among your number and that you have infravision.
    They know there are spellcasters among your number.
    They know that you spoke to the Gades.
    They know you killed Bertram Beswill, defeated a score of men at the Golden Grain Inn, and searched its basement but not the tunnel beyond the barred door.
    They know Moogeye escaped imprisonment just before the Golden Grain Inn burned to the ground.

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PostPosted: Fri Apr 15, 2016 1:41 pm 
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The Revelation of the Strange Old Hermit:

DM wrote:
The aged beggar remains silent through the paladin's eloquent plea but the hubris, scorn and skepticism of the druid and the half-orc proves too much for him, and his cautious, expressionless mask slowly cracks, and then explodes.

Grothnak narrows his eyes and scowls at the cragged old man. "Even a hermit could not be unaware of the evil that has overcome this town."

"What the hell do you know about it?" the old man's broken voice snarls with contempt from out of the darkness.

Bo says, "...You don't seem like an evil monster to me..."

“Hah! An evil monster? Is that what the goddamned evildoers of Briarsgate look like?! Monsters!? the ancient hermit growls with rage, spittle flying from his lips.
"If you 'investigators' know so damned much about the scourge of Briarsgate, how can you trust me? I could be one of them, you damn fools! ...And so could you!"

“Trust the wrong man with information in Briarsgate and you betray innocent lives! I know. I've done it, may all the gods damn my eternal soul to Hell! Want to know whose blood is on my hands?!" the mendicant rants, wild-eyed, thrusting out his empty palms.
"Men. Women. Children. All dead, or worse! Because of me! I betrayed them! Betrayed them to smiling, fair faced 'friends!' Well intentioned, trustworthy!... only wanting for information! Not meaning any harm at all! he shouts with all-consuming hatred. His weathered visage is twisted in harrowing torment. Just like Pelias' face last night.

No! No, goddamn you! No more! No more deaths on my conscience. The weight is already too much to bear. You get the hell out of here! How can I trust any of you with another innocent life?!”


DM wrote:
"Your 'intentions?' Listen. Don't trust the intentions of anyone you meet! Anyone could be one of them! No matter their past virtues or present appearances. One of them, Bertram Beswill, was once a dear, kind and gentle man. Still is, deep down, I imagine."
To Bo, he growls, "You've 'maimed and killed townsfolk?' But they're the true victims of this evil!"
Then, heavily, in response to Grothnak: "I have no fear of reprisals. Or death. I've stopped caring about my life..."
He glances at Pelias, and adds grimly, "...But if I can help Briarsgate, and my soul, by aiding you, I will. I'll risk trusting you that far. Don't make me regret it."

Then the hermit says to everyone, "I won't betray the names of the innocent. I'll only tell of the evil that has infected Briarsgate like an insidious cancer.
"That evil took root a year ago, at the Foaming Mug Inn."

The adventurers knew the building:

      DM wrote:
      An Abandoned Building. (16*) The doors and windows of this large, battered and weatherbeaten building are boarded up. A sign lies face down in the weeds before the broken porch. The roof has several holes.

          “The old Foaming Mug Inn. A dozen townsfolk were found murdered there one morning, including the proprietor. A sword fight. But no one ever discovered the reason. Those people were friends and neighbors! The building’s been abandoned ever since. A year now, I reckon.” -Felicity and Killian Gade

      Image

The old man continues, "I stupidly thought it had been stopped there. Stupid, foolish old man.
"It reappeared at the Golden Grain Inn."


      DM wrote:
      The Golden Grain Inn (6*) is a large wooden building decorated with carvings of wheat sheaves along the eaves of the roof, and a sign picturing grain and a pitcher of ale. A corral and stable are off to the side. Its innkeeper was Bertram Beswill* slain by Pelias at the battle at the Golden Grain Inn.

          "...outsiders should avoid it at peril of their lives!" -Felicity and Killian Gade

      Image

"Then it spread... to the Holy Church of beloved Merikka," he says in a voice as broken as his heart.

      DM wrote:
      The Village Church. (21*) A stone temple to Merikka, benevolent goddess of agriculture, fertility and the harvest, surrounded by a wall and a line of majestic elm trees.

          "In my heart, I trust the Mayor and the Church, thank the goddess." -Felicity Gade
      Attachment:
      Church of Merikka.jpg
      Church of Merikka.jpg [ 462.7 KiB | Viewed 397 times ]

The hermit grunts, "Those three places. There beats the heart of evil in Briarsgate.
"Now that I've revealed my hand, are you with them?! If you are, know that I am your enemy. I know you are real and I stand against you!"
His bent spine stiffens and he looks the adventurers in the eyes with anger and defiance, fully expecting these words to be his last.

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PostPosted: Thu Jul 14, 2016 3:27 pm 
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The Confession of Baltus Ardwyck:

DM wrote:
Trembling with fear, Baltus meets the elf's cold, alien eyes. He answers the questions as a man pleading for his life. "Y-yes. Something is wrong. Terribly wrong. Every soul in the village knows it," he sobs.

"The mayor has summoned me. As two of the oldest, founding families, he has asked my counsel before. But never on this matter. I believe he will now.

"M-Mine is one of the outer farms. I only became aware of the... changes three months ago. Others saw it sooner and were ridiculed. I-I dared not believe it. The wild rumours, the dread suspicions that pit neighbor against neighbor, the lurking terror without name or shape; all conspiring to obscure the truth. So that rational men might choose to ignore it in blissful ignorance. The alternative, you see, is far too much to bear."
He silently weeps. No longer for his life. But for what had befallen his home, his family. A carefully erected dam that had been held in place for months finally gave way.

When the emotion subsides, he says, "...I saw you two downstairs - strangers - and thought you might be involved in this dark business. So, I...watched you. I know now you're not a part of this. I-I'm sorry... so sorry. I meant you no harm. Please believe me".

He gathers his strength and beseeches his two captors, "Now please. Let me go. I've a wife and children. I am begging you. Please."

...

Baltus nods, looking at the floor. He compliantly answers their questions, struggling to give voice to the dread topics that have long infested his mind. "I've known the Mayor all his life, but... how does one trust any soul in Briarsgate any more?" He pauses, reflecting on his own dark words. "I can no longer say which is worse: this hellish, all-pervading doubt... or a terrible actuality.

"I have seen a dark, eyepatched man in town before, infrequently. I know him not, but he has an ill look about him. An unpleasant sort, if you take my meaning.

"I, I know all about the Church. My family attends worship there, as do most good folk in these parts. The flock is led by Father Abramo and the priestess Misha Devi."
The names are clearly Baklunish, a race of humans descended from the peoples of ancient Khemet. It's not surprising. Merikka is an agriculture goddess with roots in ancient Khemet. Her worship survived the fall of that once great civilization, and spread across the present-day Flanaess.

"If they have a role in this dreadful conspiracy then truly we are without hope," Baltus says in rueful astonishment. "...It is a horror unimagined... and unimaginable."

...

"The Mayor's offices are in his home. We are a small village, sir. This isn't Hookhill, you know."

And, "That crazy old hermit? I beg your pardon but you two are strangers here. Please take my word for it when I say, he's mad. You've been ruefully misled. That explains it. In fact, if any of his demented ravings have proven true, it's likely because he's responsible for the troubles of Briarsgate!"

...

"The hermit is clearly deranged, to judge from how he lives," Baltus says. "He's dangerous... unnatural. Trapped by poverty and madness, of his own making I can assure you, one can easily imagine the bitter grudges he harbors against his betters in the village.

"His account of the Foaming Mug Inn is true enough, but often have evildoers woven truth with lies in order to deceive and ensnare their gullible victims."

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PostPosted: Thu Jul 14, 2016 3:32 pm 
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Excerpts from the Diary of Faith Whitaker:

DM wrote:
"Dear Diary, I fear I am in the grip of an evil spirit. It is as if my very soul is haunted. I am plagued by apprehension, possessed by a nameless dread. Something is happening to me. Or else, to the entire world around me..."

"Efram tells me it's all in my head. I don't know what would be worse: stark raving dementia, or that this terror is all real..."

"Friends I have known all my life now watch me closely when they don't think I see them. They must be able to tell that I am going mad..."

"Sometimes I feel as if I cannot tell where this delirium dream leaves off and true memory begins..."

"I know this much is real: The Hochstedt family, our dear friends and neighbors, suddenly disappeared without warning today. Their house stands empty! In the name of blessed Merikka, what has become of them?!..."


The final entry reads:

"After four agonizing days, the Hochstedt family has inexplicably returned! Except for their husband and father! Goodwife Hochstedt has no explanation! I confronted her today and I'm sure she thought me quite deranged. But now I know I am not. I know it! As does my dear Efram."

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PostPosted: Tue Oct 25, 2016 11:04 am 
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Statements at the Council of Shadows:

DM wrote:
The shadowy villagers recoil at the decapitated heads of the serpentine abominations... and at the dread ramifications, and terrible, undeniable certainties they starkly represent.
"What?!?"
"No!"
"They seem intelligent! ...Evil!"
"Sweet Merikka!"
"What in the name of Hell are they?"


Noble Pelias Blanchflower looks to the hermit. "Perhaps now you will trust us? Have any of you any information regarding the source of this evil? We are aware that the elves seem to have departed this town. Is there any information that would be of value to us...and you?"

The old hermit croaks, "When we first met, I trusted you enough to name three places. For the life of me, I don't know why. But I'm glad I did. After seeing the Golden Grain Inn burned to the ground, my trust grew. That’s why I just brought you down here, instead of sending you away."

Telkis Brassfang asks, "Are all the people that can be trusted here, now in this room, or are there others of you out there?"

The hermit mutters, "These villagers are those I trust, if any in Briarsgate can be trusted. I won’t compel them to give their names, for the safety of their families. I asked others to come as well, but they did not."
He looks at the adventurers. "I saw your fine handiwork at the Golden Grain. You mentioned you went to the Foaming Mug. What of the third place I told you of?"

Telkis asks, "...that temple? Do you suspect it to be a refuge for evil here? Are there any ways of getting into it besides the front door?"

"I told you I suspect it," the hermit grunts. "It's through those gates or over the wall."

Anxious murmurs ripple through the obscured townsfolk at the idea that the blessed Church of Merikka could be involved in these dark matters...

Long Bo asks about the Rushmoors and someone replies, "Those dark bogs are leagues from here, and as large as a small nation. I know of no secret trails within that forbidding place. Most folks would rather steer clear of its deadly dangers, sir, than find a way in." The decrepit hermit nods doesn't seem to note Bo's secret signals...

The hermit limps to the light beneath the trapdoor in the ceiling. His rickety frame is a knot of worry. “It seems the enemy is targeting the church and the inns."

"Yes," a shadowy villager agrees. "The Inn of the Slumbering Serpent is now shut. Belba and Ollwin Cralloon have run off... or been taken!"

Gasps and rumbles of unease.

The hermit continues, "Inns and churches. What common thread do they share? They're gathering places. Crowds speed the spread of this insidious contagion.
"That's something that's been troubling me,"
he grumbles as he glares at the inhuman, horrific heads at their feet. "Are we to believe that the goal of these heinous abominations is to dominate a small farming village?"

Quote:
"Hookhill?" grumbles the strange, wizzened hermit at Mouser, eyes still downcast at the decapitated horrors. He frowns hard as his gravelly voice croaks, "I'd wager the damned secret masters of this invisible conspiracy hunger to spread their contagious evil to Hookhill, and beyond. Instead of controlling dozens, they could dominate the wills of thousands."

He disagrees with Moogeye, gently. "I don't know. Maybe the dense crush of relentless civilization would let this infectious bane go more easily unnoticed."

A shadowed farmer offers, "Need we isolate our village against the outside world? Any who leave us might carry this black plague of the soul with them!"

Another tremulously stammers, "I-If we are to quarantine Briarsgate, should we also try to prevent people from coming here? Block the roads from Hookhill and Hochoch?"

Hysteria tinged the edges of some of the disembodied voices. For too long, the residents of the forsaken village had remained quiet on this topic, for the sake of themselves, their families, and their sanity. Now that they were with other like minded folk, they found it hard to stop talking. It was a horrible relief to know they weren't going mad. At least their minds were still safe, if not their lives, their families and their fortunes.

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PostPosted: Wed Apr 12, 2017 2:41 pm 
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The Account of Verity Clayborne:

DM wrote:
"... All wealth in Briarsgate goes south... For the Dark Mother..."

..."Please listen to me! You don't know what they're capable of!"

..."If they find us, you'll become one of them!"

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PostPosted: Thu May 04, 2017 4:07 pm 
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The Secret Map of Misha Devi:

DM wrote:
Telkis also searches the bedroom of the fallen necromantress, Misha Devi. The dwarfish gnome finds, tucked between dogeared tomes on the shelf, a worn, folded parchment. He opens it to reveal a quickly sketched map, water damaged and dirt-stained, marking a path leading from Briarsgate, winding around the Dim Forest and deep into the heart of the Rushmoors to the south. Telkis knows where the murky Rushmoors are said to lie:

Image


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PostPosted: Thu Jan 18, 2018 3:41 pm 
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The Book of Forbidden Blasphemies:

DM wrote:

...something abhorrent and wrong takes root within the minds of Hoom and Mouser... and blossoms.



They try with all their might to close their eyes against the inconceivable implications on the page. Instead they open them wider.

Unthinkable, forbidden knowledge transforms them. Transforms everything. Forever. The pair visibly wither before the harrowing truth. (Hoom, permanently lose 2 points of Strength. Mouser, 2 points of Constitution.)

Reeling in the deathgrip of vertiginous deja vu, they remember with sickening horror that which they have seemingly known all along:

Mouser says, distantly, as if to himself: "...The Dark Mother's true name is Shub-Niggurath.... Ai! Ai! ...She is an Outer God... a perverse fertility deity... an enormous liquid miasma from which extrudes black tentacles, slime-dripping mouths, and countless eyes. She endlessly births worse horrors..."
Mouser vacantly looks at and through the ghastly statue. "...Its terrible name is Ayi'ig... Granddaughter of the Dark Mother... and a serpent goddess..."

Hoom, his eyes focused upon infinity, detachedly says: "Ai! Ai! Shub-Niggurath! ...The Church of the Dark Mother was born thousands of years ago... near here... in the forbidding mountains to the east and north..."

Upon these words being spoken, the blurring acoustic distortions of the mirror suddenly fall silent.

Hoom and Mouser close the ghastly, skin-bound book and are themselves once more. Mercifully, to defend against unimaginable meaning and ramifications, the conscious mind cannot remember anything that was read.

However, the subconscious mind cannot forget.

_________________


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