Desperate Struggles (clues and player notes)

[rredmond]

Screaming shaving dude can transform in midday, as can others. Fan-freakin-tastic.

[Inferno]

Screaming shaving dude can transform in midday, as can others. Fan-freakin-tastic.

Duly recorded, here: viewtopic.php?p=391815#p391815

[Inferno]

A Howling of Wolves:

...a great black wolf speaks in the tongue of Men, without the aid of Ingrid's magic.

"Poor, lost children, dry thy tears. Thy suffering is at an end, if only thou wilt allow it.
Cease thy pointless resistance. Lower thy useless burdens. Hast thou not suffered enough at the hands of your cruel gods who hast forsaken thee?

"Struggling against thy destiny causes only misery unto thyself. I wast once a Man like thee. Now I have no regrets.
Join with us. The pack accepts thee. Embrace thy fate. Come and live a wondrous life, hunting forever as my packmate beneath the moon, the stars, and the endless night."

In the haunted wood, the wolves have come to give the wretched heroes succor... if only they will join them.

...Pyotr the half-orc warrior nods at the wolf's proposal. "What will dis cost us? To run wit de Pack?"

The wolf replies, "The price is identical to what thou stands to gain. Everything."

...Defiant to the end, Rudolf fills both hands with rocks and launches into a blustery tirade, ending with: "Thank you for your offer, you may kill me, yet again, or maybe I get lucky and kill you..."

The wolf laughs blackly. "Ha! Little one, I admire thy spirit if not thy wit. How little thou comprehends, even at this late hour. Nay. Thou shalt never die now. For that, thou art welcome.
"We aren't here to kill thee! Thou art one of us. Thy other selves hath already embraced the pack... and The Pact. Together we hath frolicked and dined beneath the light of the full moon.
"With the next moon, all of thee shall be with us in thy entirety..."

Urdur says: "Where is the black altar in the wood?"

Through clenched fangs, against its ferocious will, the wolf growls: "One day to the southeast, for thou."

Urdur asks, "Where is the human village?"

"Which one?" snarls the wolf with malice. "Vicar's Head is to the southwest, almost two days hence for thy ilk.
"The Ashblood Colony is due south. It might take thee nearly three days."

Urdur asks, "Do any members of the pack reside within the Ashblood Colony, hidden as humans?"

"Yes," growls the wolf.

Bo rushes forward and shouts: "Can you tell me more about this Pact?"

"Yes," snarls the wolf, guttural and low enough for only Urdur to hear. "It shalt possess thee and damn thee, mind, body and soul, for all eternity."

[wolfpack]

"The black coven shall never die, waiting til the stars come right again, and the secret witches and wolves shall rouse great Shub-Niggurath from his resting place beneath the dark mountains to revive his subjects and resume his rule of Oerth!"

I think we need to figure out what the dark mountains are, that may be where we need to go.


"By their stench can men sometimes know they art near, but of their semblance can no man know, saving only in the features of those they have begotten on mankind! And of those art many sorts, differing in likeness from man’s truest self to that shape without sight or substance which is their unspeakable selves!"

I don't think this can be ignored, keep notice of any unexplained stench.

the fact that the wolf we killed did not turn back human, and the crazy guy transformed midday and even the fact we were attacked at dawn not the middle of the night would indicate not normal werewolves. maybe we need a remove curse cast.

[Inferno]

The Wisdom of The Trees:

Brevos says, "Wise ones, we came into this wilderness looking for an ancient source of evil. Do you know of any other evil sources besides this shrine we have destroyed?"

The towering shepherds of the forest answer with the deep rumble of oaken throats:
"Aye. Thou hast pruned a vile sapling of blossoming evil... but the accursed roots run deep...
"In the direction of the rising sun... thou shalt find the origins of Evil... that blight and damn these poor forsaken mountains..."

This confirms what Hoom Feethos had learned at a terrible price from the heinous tome of forbidden knowledge found within the wretched Hell Mouth of the Dark Mother.



To travel as the crow flies might be impossible. But the heroes know a mountain pass exists. The mouth of the southwestern trailhead lies near the doomed hamlet of Vicar's Head.

The grey druid asks the ancient tree creatures, "Can you communicate over vast areas? Send or receive messages from others of your kind that grow to the west of these lands?"

"Aye... given enough time, youngling..."

"Is there anything more you can tell us, great shepherds?

"...Be ye warned... To the vile source of Evil... none dareth go... Not even the hateful witches...
"...Except once... and recent...
"They doth made an accursed pilgrimage... to deliver unto Evil... an innocent childe... they had stolen...
"May the Gods have mercy upon her precious soul..."

[Inferno]

Breaking the Curse:

Urdur reviews the journal discovered in the secret library in Vicar's Head. A formula professes to cure the curse that afflicts all of them but Jerome. The potions requires one fresh sprig of wolfsbane per sufferer. The party possesses but two dead sprouts.

The grey druid and the grim ranger both know that wolfsbane is native to windy mountains. It grows along streams, in damp, shady fields, and in mountainous meadows.

Long Bo believes the elixir they hope to concoct will be more potent if the wolfsbane is harvested with a silver sickle beneath the light of the moon, and caught in a bowl before it touches the ground.

They share their disappointing news with the other accursed heroes.

Later...

Unseen Urdur brews a sorcerous concoction and offers it up to Brevos, Ingrid and Long Bo. Ingrid refuses the Wolfsbane Elixir. At the priestess' invitation, Telkis reluctantly takes her place and the three drink the strange bubbling potion.

Then they scream in agony.

With mounting terror and dread, they feel themselves once more convulse, contort, change!



Their howls pierce the silence of the graveyard and their fell, hungry voices are no longer remotely human!

Before the heroes' disbelieving eyes, at the edge of a frozen field of mass graves, Bo, Brevos and Telkis transform into unspeakable things not of this world!

Ingrid, shocked and aghast, pleads for the forgiveness and absolution she fears will never come. Meanwhile, Jerome, Mouser, Rudolf and Urdur all bare steel in dread anticipation of what they must do next!

The young paladin of St. Cuthbert resolutely grips his sword and grimly advances on the once-human monsters with prayers upon his trembling lips.

Brevos falls to his knees, groaning and crying out. Telkis begins to rip his armor off, lest it strangle him as he assumes his other shape! Long Bo, writhing from unimaginable agony, helpless to defend himself, begs Jerome not to kill him!

The young paladin is moved. He stays his terrible sword.

Suddenly, the three changelings cease their ghastly becoming! They slowly return to their normal forms and are themselves once more! They lay on the bone-white snow of the graveyard; panting, gasping, their hearts pounding in their chests.

From three of the heroes, the dread Curse of The Beast is lifted.

[Inferno]

Dread Lore of the Death Shrine:

"Ah fear ye seek that which ye shuid not," an old one-eyed man answers Telkis.

"There is a mountain that no one climbs. Legend holds that a great evil once lived upon the mountain an' forever cursed th' land."

The public house goes quiet again; the voices that filled it, replaced by a palpable dread.

The old man croaks, "Wee little lass or no, if ye value ye souls, ye shuid not go thare."

The old one-eyed man pulls on his pipe and speaks in a cloud of smoke. "'Tis an abandon'd temple an burial ground o' an ancient death cult that ye seek.
"Long ago, the reign o' the cult upon the mountain was endit whan the villagers rose up and destroy'd it wi' help from escaped slaves an traitors from within the cult. The shrine was consecrated by twelve priests wha gave their lives tae trap the Evil inside. Na one goes thare now."

The silence of the other patrons is deafening.

"Dae not go, lassie. Ah beg ye. Forego ye pride. Dae na waken that which sleeps."

[Inferno]

Proclamations of the Tortured Faces:

The faces are wet and appear to be moving and changing, writhing in agony, due to a trick of the torchlight. The tortured faces on the floor near the stonegate shriek in hideous daemonic voices, telling these willing human sacrifices of the dread fate that awaits them:

"You are a gift to The Nothing! The Nothing!"

"Look Upon The Seven Faces of Immensity! Look Upon The Breaker of All Things! Look Upon the Bound and Conquered God!”

"Look Upon the Twin Inquisitors! Look Upon the Exalted Interrogator! Look Upon the Praetor-Pontifex!" urge the writhing visages in the floor!

"Look Upon Eizethrat Nexx and Gorgulos Nexx!
Look Upon Vorgen Pox, Nazir An-Azat and Aetheldredd Aleph!
Look Upon Aervik Narn and Carnithrax Maximus!
All Resting for Eternity in Deathly Splendour within The Tombs of the Greater Repugnances!"

[Inferno]

Harrowing Visions from the Outer Planes:

Beyond the Fields We Know

Jerome's mind and his soul enter into the painting of the Dark Mother.





Past her undulating tentacles, past her unspeakable screaming, a world waits beyond this one. Nay, a universe.





An alternate dimension of existence. Into it he plunges.





Hurled into the howling black abysses beyond his ken where stars burn in the fathomless gulfs of infinity and eternity,...





Jerome ascends shrieking upward into the higher planes of consciousness.





Hurtling beyond space and time, matter and energy, flesh and the soul, beyond all concepts of madness and death.





Transported and transcendent, beyond all imagining and all comprehension.





His sanity under siege, his beliefs, his memories, his very sense of self, all hang by a cracked fingernail.





A mountain... A girl. Was there a child??





Beyond all darkness, his shriveled, quivering mind is naked before the unimaginable vastness of The Outer Planes. Suddenly, he is not alone.




Suddenly, that which remains of Jerome gains some small fragment of understanding.

(Random Effect of the Black Lotus: "Contact Outer Planes. You may ask d4 questions."
Jerome: please roll 1d4 and ask away.)


Questions?!

That which remains of Jerome of the Mighty Oak hovers far beyond this universe, within the sanity-shredding horror of the Outer Planes of existence!



Jerome's harrowed, devastated mind asks:

iS tHe chiLD We cAmE tO rEsCuE STill aLivE?

The answer ravages his psyche:

Yes.




Jerome's trembling, desecrated soul asks:

Who IS tHe mASteR oF tHis StRongHOld?

The answer razes his consciousness:

The Praetor-Pontifex.
Who Slumbers within The Tombs of The Greater Repugnances.




Suddenly Jerome opens his eyes and he is back on Oerth. The dark mountains. The lost shrine. The gallery of horrors. The center of the spiral pew.

How long... have I been gone?... Centuries?... Longer?

...Did it happen?... Did I dream it?

Unable to move, unable to speak, blood and froth are Jerome's only words now.

[Inferno]

Litany of the Damned:

Jerome has never been bitten by a wolf and does not bear the Curse. Everyone else has.

Bo, Brevos and Telkis drank of the wolfsbane elixir and were cured. Brevos and Telkis were bitten again last chapter, and re-infected. But Long Bo was not, and remains cured.

Mouser and Urdur drink of the conjurer's strange bubbling concoction, the wolfsbane elixir...

From two more of the heroes, the dread Curse of The Beast is lifted!

Brevos moves away and drinks of the wolfsbane elixir!

His body is violently remade. He is become unto a vile, unspeakable horror...

Ingrid and Telkis, the last of the heroes to take the wolfsbane elixir, move away from the others and brace themselves for what is about to happen.

They drink and then they howl in piteous agony. They begin a harrowing transformation into things bestial, depraved and utterly inhuman...

None now bear the Curse of the Beast. Three doses of the wolfsbane elixir remain.

[Inferno]

A Dark History:

The congregation carries the heroes out in a solemn procession, borne outside beneath bare branches and the darkening sky some distance through the woods to an ancient church on a hill.



Its architecture and age are those of times long gone by, before the founding of Gran March when this land was the seat of the empire of Vecna the Dark Lord.

The secret church is clearly consecrated to Saint Pentival, an ancient paladin of Pelor, legendary foe of Acererak and founder of the mysterious Order of the Knights of the March. Legends tell that Pentival was brutally martyred long ago at the wicked hands of the vile servants of Vecna.

After labors long and arduous, Jerome rescues a large chest imprisoned in a locked, barred dungeon cell.

Mouser eagerly comes to investigate. Reflected torchlight from the hallway reveals a brass emblem upon the great trunk bearing a symbol the thief does not recognize. But Jerome does, as he steps closer. It is the sign of the mysterious Order of the Knights of the March.



... Legends tell that after the fall of Vecna's reign, the Knights of the March became stewards of many strange and powerful artifacts of the Dark Lord, and secreted them away for safe keeping, none know where.

[Inferno]

Whispers of Atrocious Murder:

Urdur examines the posted notices:

GHASTLY MURDER!

Dreadful Mutilation of a Woman.

A fourth young misfortunate has been savagely mutilated and murdered by the Hookhill Ripper! The latest unspeakable crime against Men and Gods was committed the night of December 21st in Devil's Acre, the same neighborhood as the others. Women and children should keep indoors at night. Anyone with information as to the identity of this diabolical madman is urged to come forth immediately! Let us pray this villainous blackguard is soon brought to justice!

...the doomed heroes try to learn what they can of the unspeakable acts of the Hookhill Ripper.

Urdur's sharp ears overhear:

"You going to the hanging tomorrow? Should be a good un!"

"Ow. That Ripper's a saucy one, he is. Stealing girls' hearts. Wif a knife. Haw haw haw!"

"An' I'm tellin' you, the city guard are in on it! How else is it they have no leads and no likleys?"

...

After ordering a drink at the bar, Long Bo quietly asks: “What do you know about these horrible murders?”

The barkeep stops and warily looks Bo over. Then he answers tightly, "What is there to know? Working girls found dead, right ere in Devil's Acre... Blackchapel," he adds, in case the stranger doesn't know the sobriquet of Hookhill's largest slum. "Said to be killed unnatural. But only the gods, the city guard and the coroners know what that means! Been going on for months and no stoppin'. Last one was found four days ago."

The grey druid knows the winter solstice was four days ago. The shortest day of the year is sacred to druids, witches, and even laymen who no longer understand its significance. The festivals in Hookhill are just ending.

"Them girls there knew one of the deceased," the barkeep nods at a table of huddled women, drinking themselves numb.

Bo asks the barkeep, "Have the other murders also occurred on specific dates?"

"Now that you mention it, one poor girl was done in on All Hallow's Eve," the barkeep answers.

The druid knows October 31st as Samhain and the Witch's Sabbath; the end of harvest and the start of winter, signifying death in the cycle of the year.

In the thickly crowded tavern, Bold Dell takes Faron's gold pieces and whispers to him and Mouser in the tongue of footpads, waylayers, snakesmen and jackrollers: ("A bloke I know says a member of the royal family has been slumming in Devil's Acre and knocked up a whore, making her bastard child the future King of Gran March! Now the whore and her friends are being offed by agents of the crown to protect the throne. That's why the Ripper will never be caught. I can bring you two to the bloke what told me... for 18 more gold.")

Jerome lists feast days. Urdur recalls that tonight and tomorrow are known in Greyhawk as Winter Solstice End. Sacred to druids, witches and sorcerers, and symbolized by Light and Life, it signifies that days now grow longer.

[Inferno]

Testimony of the Vermin and the Dead:

The grey druid had cast an incantation to converse in the ancient language of rats. He and Telkis hear one of the swarming vermin in the alley squeal, "I saws the whole fing. They were almost Men. They kilt her and ate of her and took wet sticky parts of her..."

And then, when things couldn't be more horrendous, the macabre horror of mutilated flesh, blood and bone starts to speak!

"... Am I still alive???...," it asks.

...

"...My God... Please, what's happened to me?...," the hideous thing cries.

Mary screams without stopping.

Ingrid asks the horrific cadaver, "Can you tell me anything about who did this to you?"

The dreadful atrocity answers. "...I... It happened so fast... There were three of them at least and... Their eyes. Their teeth.... I don't think they were human!... My God. I'm dead, aren't I?... Please, no. I'm only 25..."

[Inferno]

Mysteries of the Haunted Manor:

Jerome approaches the huddled misfortunates with empty hands and says, "... I am Jerome, a follower of St Cuthbert. Do any of you know anything about the abandoned manse over there?"

"Aye, sir. 'Twas the manor of a great Lord and Lady once," comes a reply.

"A terrible curse fell upon their noble family," whispers another.

"They're all long gone now," croaks a third.

"That place is haunted!" rasps one more. "Ye'd best keep away from there, dearie, if'n ye value ye life!"

No further rumors about the secret lair of the Hookhill Ripper are known.

Then Long Bo and Telkis relay the testimony of the vermin:

"Nothing lives in that house except on certain nights."

"Something's happening inside this house! Can't you feel it?!"

Lost majesty and grandeur coated in dust undisturbed.

...Without incident, they reach the inside of the front door, where the unnatural footprints from the sewer had definitely entered. But somehow, those bare, wet, inhuman feet did not disturb the dust that coats the floor. Impossibly, there are no footprints here!

With a prayer and an involuntary shudder, Ingrid detects an unspeakable Evil not of this world, permeating the very foundation and every wall of the ominous house!

Then Urdur, the conjurer of deception, weaves a spell of truth. It awakens within him sleeping senses, allowing him to see those invisible things that only birds and beasts can half-perceive.

Before his disbelieving eyes, a constellation of seething, sorcerous energy writhes into being, infusing the entire house!



With dread, the gnomish sorcerer realizes the nature of the black magic. The accursed mansion is a doorway to somewhere else! A doorway that can open only when the stars are right, upon such pagan holy days as:

The Autumn Equinox

All Hallow's Eve (known also as Samhain or The Witch's Sabbath)

All Saints Day

The Winter Solstice

and Winter Solstice End

From their investigations, the heroes know that on these nights sacred to druids, witches and warlocks, the Hookhill Ripper has murdered a woman of this sprawling, ancient city.

Tonight at sundown is the next such night that the 'door' will open. But from where?

[Inferno]

Secrets of the Dreamlands:

"So, what world is this then?"

Arthur's wicked smile is heard in his reply, "The Dreamlands, you poor lost things."

The priests and sorcerers among them cannot help but shudder. For they know of what Arthur speaks:

The Dreamlands is a myth, believed to be a vast, alternate dimension, accessible to Oerthly beings through dreams. The waking world, the "real" universe, is its twin; the other side of the same coin.

This mirror world is said to share many similarities of geography and astronomy. However there also exist other races, intelligences and civilizations that do not reside in the waking universe.

Legends speak of means through which it is sometimes possible to physically enter the Dreamlands while still awake, through gates and portals.

On the trail of the Hookhill Ripper, the doomed heroes have entered a house of horrors that is a gateway to the Dreamlands, when the stars are right.

The Dreamlands! A mysterious realm that coexists beside, or between, the spaces Men know. One half of a bifurcated reality across which Men live the entirety of their lives.

Long Bo concentrates and tries to control the "dream." The grey druid fails and learns that, despite its name, the Dreamlands is not imaginary; it has a physical existence, independent from those who venture there from the "waking world," if such terms are even accurate.

The grey druid continues negotiating with Arthur, "Would you like to leave this world of yours?"

Arthur laughs derisively, "I have been to your world, and slaughtered its women like lambs for my Master. Rest assured, mate, I will hunt there again."

[Inferno]

Blasphemous Manuscripts From the Other World:

Alone in the night, Urdur the sorcerer studies blasphemous secrets from the arcane tomes he willingly brought into this world from the frightful Dreamlands. The inhuman occultist discovers...

-A dream journal of one Lord Blackchapel, filled with vivid descriptions of his otherworldly voyages through wonder and beauty...



...and his ruminations upon those fantastic visions:

"I have always believed that such strange, inaccessible worlds exist at our very elbows, and now I believe I have found a way to break down the barriers.”

The hair on Urdur's neck stands up. This notion of an unseen world, coexisting closely alongside our own, is something he once heard amongst the rantings of a madman in the doomed village of Vicar's Head.

-Lord Blackchapel also writes that he believes the Dreamlands are slowly changing the waking world, subtly invading it like an infectious contagion of reality; something he is thankful for. Urdur's leg jumps involuntarily. This too was frighteningly familiar. Urdur remembers:

"The Oerth is changing. This is not how Greyhawk is supposed to be..." Mouser and Urdur read from one of the heinous tomes of forbidden secrets they found in the lair of the Wolf Pack to the Dark Mother.

-Finally, in another tome, Urdur finds writings of a dark ritual of black magic that he does not fully comprehend.



He gleans the unholy spell is aligned with the Old Feast Days, culminating with New Year's Day which now lies but four days hence, and that this mysterious, unspeakable rite involves multiple human sacrifices.