Adventure Thread

Lillit peeks into the room and sees no villagers. She turns to her friends and says, "We skipped a room back there... That could be where our final two villagers are... Hopefully they haven't been slain!"

She then turns from the doorway she stands at to see Moloch's body lying on the ground. She searches him first, and then she sticks her hands in his blood and enters the room, placing both bloody hands upon the titan's skull. After that, she turns to examine this treasure...

As the others explore the southern exit, Orm can't get his mind off the mural and glowing orb. He wishes he had his tomes to rifle through, but his memory will have to do.

"Let us go back and search what we left just in case there more villagers back there."looking at the others "We also need to take Tyrus's body back with us for his family."

By the time the quaking stops and Nikk finds his footing, the battle is already over.

Following Lillit's example, he too daubs a bloody handprint upon the cracked skull, trying not to think too hard on what that creature must have looked like in life.

The wafting of fresh surface air is enticing, and more than anything he wishes to head up those stairs and depart from this hellish place of madness. But if there's even a chance that one of his kinsmen is still down here...?

"Yes, we might have missed somebody."

I take another quaff of the potion, draining the last of it with a pensive expression. Hopefully, the threat of more danger has been extinguished with the slaying of the cult leader, but, then again, I wasn't sure we were completely thorough in our exploration of their hideout.

Looking upon the spoils, I was happy to see the windfall come into our hands rather than be in the cult's possession. Perhaps we could put it to good use rather than the evil the cult was doing.

"You’ll not see me messing with any more blood magic." Hobb says. "Dark deeds and dark pacts, that’s what all this has been." he says, as he goes about cutting down the slain follower.

Nodding"I agree Hobb. No more blood magic for me. Didn't know what I was doing the first time. I will surely not do it by choice."

"We should get Tyrus's body out of this evil place and take him home."

Orm pockets the magical pearl, to be studied another time. "Aye, I think we're done here. Even if there are villagers left, the cave-in makes it impossible to move around for a proper rescue mission. Let's go back to the Hillshire and regroup, see if the other villagers can assist."

"Do we want to take that?" Hobb asks, pointing a hairy finger at the twisted sword on the ground. He worried that such a dark artifact might whisper and tempt the villagers, but he couldn’t say for sure!

He climbs towards the fresh air then, heaving great gulps of it. He’d pulled through, mace and shield in hand. He’d slain and been struck by blows that ought to have killed him. Gede had seen him through, and now it was time for Old Hobb to rest!

With a hesitant look back towards the collapsing lair, Nikkghak moves to Tyrus' body, intent on dragging him out. It was the least he could do for Kara. But the others were right, it was a fool's errand to hunt through the ruins for more survivors. He only hoped they had found everyone.

"That blade reeks of evil. Perhaps it could be purified at the chapel, or at least locked away where it would not tempt anyone?" He bows his head in deference to the witch and wizard of the group. "But if one of you wish to claim it for your own research, I only ask that you treat it with care."

With that, he begins dragging Tyrus towards the open air. Home would not be the same, not after what had transpired these past few days, but it was still home. By sheer luck and the bravery of his companions had he pulled through, and now he wished for nothing more than to be back in the chapel, listening to the soothing sermons from his little corner behind the pews.

I look upon Tyrus' still body with a forlorn expression.

"It's a pity he was lost this way; damn this craven maniac for poisoning his mind. Hillshire must know about these cultists abd what they've done so they don't fall prey again. How this could happen, it must not happen again. I wonder where it started, these cruel worshippers. I may rest now, but again I will rise until the source is snuffed out and there is no haunting of chaos from these people."

Lillit took up the "evil" sword of the fallen Moloch, since no one else seemed interested, and returns to town, snake whip and all. She celebrates with the others and happily accepts the thanks of the villagers.

After things die down, she finds a cottage outside of town and begins to develop her arts of witchcraft, herbalism, and potion crafting, hoping one day to be able to provide healing and soothing salves and tonics for the townsfolk.

Ivar will stick around and console the grieving Kara and help her out as much as possible with the gold he received from his cut.

Back from his first brush with adventuring, and having found himself sorely unsuited for it, Nikkghak returns to his peaceful life in the chapel. He spends his days helping out where he can, his evenings in quiet prayer and contemplation.

Some nights he still startles awake, images of monstrous spiders and winged demons lingering in the recesses of his mind. But for the most part his life continues on, and perhaps he has even grown a little braver from the ordeal. Now he ventures into town more often, even begins to hold the odd sermon himself.

He knows that one day danger may come to Hillshire again, and he might be forced to pick up his spear again. But for now he is content to stay here, in this small corner of the world where he belongs.

Hillshire is home. I return to my cabin in the outskirts of the village, but keep a close watch; closer than I used to, on my fellow villagers. The whole experience has left me with closer ties to the village than I used to have, and I especially watched over those who were captured by the cult, vowing to see them safe for the rest of their days. If anything, I never wanted to see Hillshire suffer another depredation like this ever again.

I was ready and willing to be a resident-protector of Hillshire for all of my days, and after my foray against the cult, I felt that much more hale and bolder from my experienced; meeting my fellow Wayfinders was a blessing, and as we parted, I proposed that we meet, as we could to stay in touch, because our experience was invaluable to preventing another dark incursion, and quite simply I felt the bonds forged of veterancy together that I could not simply abandon after our shared expedition together.

For now I saved my share of the gains, biding my time carefully considering what I might purchase; perhaps a nicer suit of armour, so that I might stand up to future threats and avoid some of the pitfalls that I fell to during the adventure in the cultist redoubt.

The Puddlefoot name meant something around Hillshire. Hobb, for his part in the quest, had only secured that reputation for another generation. Time would come when his own children would venture off, taking the old Halfling’s arms and armor with them, and secure the reputation once more.

But for Hobb, his bloodlust had risen and fallen throughout the course of their mission, and he would simply slip back into the quiet life in Hillshire… when he wasn’t butting heads with that damned blacksmith!