RoundTable Adventuring

Taralack's Harrow

The Avalanche – Negative Past (True Match)

“This card often refers to a physical disaster, but in this case I can’t help but think that it’s something more subtle than that. In your past – you faced tragedy as a result of a situation involving two different groups of people who came into conflict because neither was thinking clearly and both allowed prejudice and emotion to guide their hands. You found yourself caught up in the problem, perhaps as an objective observer or investigator. Either way, this involvement led to your death. As you continue with your current task – be wary of putting yourself between two separate groups with a long history of conflict arising from a lack of thinking”

The Owl – Unclear Present (True Match)

“This card speaks to the natural order of the world. Over the next several days keep that order in mind and be cautious in attempting to perform actions that would disrupt that. The natural order is what helps bind life together and if you move against it, you may upset more than you intend. However, there is also comfort to be found in the natural order. If you find your place within, and move in such a way as to aid it, you will find great success. A final warning – do not allow experimentation into your feral aspects to push beyond what the order has deemed appropriate”

The Fiend – Positive Future (Opposite Match / Misaligned)

“Well. This is certainly an interesting gaze into your future. The Fiend is a dark card that heralds the death of many due to some sort of calamity or perhaps the machinations of a dark and sinister creature. But for this card to appear as both an opposite match and also misaligned tells us a different story. The cards do not lie. There is a dark, foreboding presence that will rise against you and those closest to you. It will endanger the lives of many and may succeed in its goals; but only to a point. Hone your skills. Grow more powerful and retain the aid of capable friends and allies. Learn to uphold the natural order. If you do these things you will be instrumental in stopping the advances of the creature that rises against the world.”

Excerpt from First Nightmare by Rouolon Ulmer

I saw him again last night. My friend. My nightmare. He bids me to tell the world of him. He is the first one. The elder. He watches over those who slumber in the Dreamlands. But he envies them for they are gods and he is not. But he is. When mortals enter his domain they are under his divine thumb. He has the power to bend their dreams to his will. Desna cannot save you. Why would you want her to? Embrace the nightmare for he is a God. He tells me of his plans. He consorts with lamashtu to steal the divinity of another god. Then you will be made to acknowledge his power as I have. I will be rewarded. Your prophet will be rewarded.

Except from A Treatise on the Anthropology of Slavery by Ducek

While there is much contention between scholars about which was the first anthropomorphic race was the first to appear on golarion, what is certain is that halflings are in contention for that honour. Halflings existed on Golarion before the elves and the dwarves, and even before the age of humanity. Several of the oldest texts from azlant coroborate this fact, but newer archeological evidence suggest the race dates back to the age of serpents.. More, or perhaps less startling (seeing you are reading this volume), archeological findings have shown members halflings race were enslaved by the serpentfolk. Some believe, though no scientific evidence exists to back up their claim, that the the morlock race is the decendents of halflings taken by the serpent folk when they left the surface at the beginning of the age of legend. This only shows that slavery has existed in one form or another since the earliest ages. And while the majority of this text will focus on the historic period I thought We’d begin by giving you a glimpse at how deep this rabbit hole goes. …

Hey All,
Something's fucky with the calendar

So the “+” sign that should add a new event to the calendar just reloads the calendar page… I am a little confused as to why. But, it seems my account is no longer Ascendant. I don’t know if this will be fixed before next session or not but, I do remember the charge being made to my credit card.

So…Here’s the recap for Kyle whom unfortunately could not be with us tonight.

After taking Keeper Hyve Prisoner and coercing him into helping Taralack and Garlumbo finish his plan (making a very potent poison to harm the invisible outsider tearing down houses). The party made their with with Hyve to Rupman’s Vats. They found the place as closed as it was when they first attempted to acquire samples of Middenstone. After, forcing their way into the factory, while the majority of the party skulked carefully to investigate the vats, Keeper Hyve saw his opportunity to escape and he took it. He had surreptitiously freed himself from his restrains while they all travelled to what maybe the creature’s next target. Using his bonds as weapons against ’Karrenz’s stand in’ and escaping the building only to be roughly seized by Garlumbo’s Axebeak. Which then attempted to continue to carry out the orders of its master to bury the Rogue Poisoner. A brief and somewhat humourous scuffle broke out between the remaining members of the party and the Axebeak as Garlumbo had pressed on with the mission and was unable to give any further commands to his ever so obedient mount. Unfortunately, Keeper Hyve had suffered deep wound and had bled out just as Sojo cast a spell to cure his wounds. Too little, too late, and Sojo miss-diagnosed the Hyve no longer bleeding out due to heart failure as being stabilized by his spell. Ultimately, the large bird slipped and fell into one of the vats scalding it’s flesh with hot middenstone sluice. Losing the keeper’s body in the process. Later, it would succeed in it’s task of burying, with one of the vat’s workers. Which all turned out to be alchemically preserved zombies. Which is a crime in Ustalav to use necromancy in such a way.

Meanwhile, under the cover of invisibility, Garlumbo had slipped passed the ‘workers’ to come across an inebriated keeper Myre. Whom had been drinking himself into a stupor while he tried to re-write everything from the “Pnacktonic Manuscripts” from his memory. The fear for his life and extreme distress from losing his most prized book had kept him from sleep and had drove him to drink. As, the rest of the party fought to keep attop the slippery walkways, resisting the noxious fumes, destroying zombie workers. Keeper Myre proved to be quite the handful against Taralack after escaping the consistent and brutal ramming from the investigator. Who tanglefoot bagged him to the floor after he leap to be safely out of range of the Orc (spraining his ankle in the process). First, he charmed her. Having her heal him as he drank a potion. And then the man she thought of a trust-worthy, old friend betrayed her casting “Hold Person” on her. Which was then followed by “Vampiric Touch”.

Garlumbo had gone on to investigate the room trusting that the groups quarry had been subdued as the sounds of battle were only of the rest of the party finishing off Zombies and Sojo falling multiple times off the slippery platforms into the middenstone as it was being processed. Ingesting some of it made him extremely nauseous. That combined with climbing out of the pits near completely incapacitated him for the remainder of the combat. Others had also fallen leading the party to move with great caution on the platform. The stand in magus contracted filth-fever. All who fell into the sluice the axebeak had suffered.

The spry necromancer was ultimately taken alive with some dirty bard trickery from Kyle’s stand in. After short period of questioning he was thoroughly restrained, relieved of his equipment, including his bonded object (a ring), and gagged to make sure that he would be unable to cast anymore spells. After a thorough search of the remaining rooms in the factory the party has found a couple more spell books and has gone above and beyond Varro’s request by not only securing a sample of middenstone but has Keeper Myre’s very own recipe.

What has been learnt about the horror that is terrorizing Carrion Hill are as follows; The Horror of Carrion Hill is now Identified as a Spawn of Yog-Sothoth. It is a being summoned from the void in an attempt from the Keepers of the Oldest to gain forgotten knowledge of the old gods to expand their understanding and power.

Keeper Myre has offered to help defeat the Spawn of Yog-Sothoth but, requires access to the “Pnakotic Manuscript”. The party is not keen as access to the book would allow the Necromancer to make use of one of many teleportation spells found there in. Myre has also, demanded that the party kill him rather than let his essence be used to strengthen the monster from beyond the pale.

With a new Keeper in tow the party is making its way back to the Elmway Church where they slept last night to regroup and prepare to assault the asylum.

Will they encounter the Spawn of Yog-Sothoth along the way? There will be a percentage roll to determine that. At this point everyone is now Level 6. I’ll also, text everyone to let them know to level for next session.

Karrenz's Journal

Why don’t we ever get to travel someplace nice? When I joined the guild, it seemed a golden opportunity to get to journey around the world exploring other cities; with the guild covering most of my expenses. Instead my first official mission had us going inside a volcano to try and stop some cult before we inadvertently freed some fallen goddess from her captivity. Then I am approached by Carrock for another assignment and am assured that this time we will be sent to a city for a simple material retrieval mission.

Carrion Hill. The name sounded intriguing and the mission was completely straight forward. Turns out neither of those things are true. This city is a mostly deserted shit hole and the mission has been “put on hold” by my companions in favor of looking into some local problem involving attacks and collapsing buildings. According to the Mayor people are being killed and the incompetent locals have no idea who or what is doing it. I’m not completely indifferent to the suffering of others, and since our mission apparently can’t continue until this problem is solved….I guess it’s time to start investigating. Plus scoring a reward from the Mayor and potentially a few grateful townsfolk while still getting guild pay? Seems a good enough deal to double down on.

Pele II
Hide and Seek

Sleep has not come easily. Every time I close my eyes I imagine Kosmaro and what might happen if I wander into the realm of nightmare. I can only hope that my sister protects me, but I cannot ask for such. Don’t mistake me I long to speak with my sister and brother, but prayer is a dangerous thing. Prayers can be intercepted, something Asmodeus was very fond of doing. The God-feind would answer the prayer in his own twisted way, and in-so-doing often claim the mortals soul. I want to pray but Kosmaro and Lamashtu will be listening for me. I digress. I was talking about sleep. I’ve been working on the practise of lucid dreaming, the ability to control ones own dreams. It is said that monks of desna are so proficient in the practise that while they sleep they have abilities that could rival the empyreal lords. After my time in Ustalav I will have to seek out these masters of lucid dreaming and learn what I can from them.

Gar'lumbo #4
Investigation Report 1

It’s been a nice leshuse cruise so far. Lots of sun, fresh sea food, and some light excercise. But now that we’ve arrived at Carrion Hill I can safely say that this place is a depressing shit hole.
All rain and no fun make Gar’lumbo want to smash someone’s face in. And fortunately it looks like this town will provide just that. Something has been nocking down buildings and eating townsfolk, probably. So we’ve been called in to investigate. I guess Humans are shit at that too, but i’ll have to not be an asshole to the guards. The mayor wouldn’t deputize us, so it’ll be a good idea to be nice to and get in good with the guards. ‘Ravens’ i think they are. That was is this cowardly mayor tries to backstab us wheel have a better chance of surviving, or over throwing him.

Carrion Hill
The Wart

Known by frequent visitors such as tradesmen as the Boil, or, more basely, the Wart, Carrion Hill rises over the otherwise swampy southern banks of Kingfisher River, the only solid ground of any reasonable scope in the swampland known as the Wrythe for a distance of nearly 20 miles to east or west. When the river fog rolls in every morning and evening, those who dwell on the hill’s Crown district can look out on a world of white vastness, while those below take solace in the simple fact that the ground beneath their feet is solid and unlikely to wash away a"er one of the area’s frequent rainstorms or seasonal floods.

Carrion Hill
Small City: standard government (mayor); AL N
Population 9,200
Racial Mix 82% human, 5% halfling, 4% half-orc, 4% gnome, 3%
dwarf, 2% other
Vanton Heggry, mayor of Carrion Hill (N male human aristocrat 9)
The Crows, city watch (900 N human warrior 1 guards, 45 N
human fighter 2 sergeants, 9 N human fighter 4 captains)

Carrion Hill is split into three districts. Atop the hill, the Crown serves as the home for the city’s nobility, government, and most of its public works. The hill’s slopes are a thick tangle of buildings and maze-like alleyways; this is the Tangle, where the bulk of the shops and residences can be found. The lowest part of the city, both physically and spiritually, is the Filth, a series of islands both natural and artificial, connected by old boardwalks and stone bridges. The city’s poor and desperate dwell here, as do those industries so vital to the city’s prosperity but so unwanted by its citizens—tanners, gong farmers, street cleaners, the fisheries, and the looming middenstone vats. Yet the Filth is also the city gateway, as the vast majority of Carrion Hill’s visitors arrive by riverboat or barge via the district’s refuse-choked canals.
Carrion Hill is also called the isle of 10,000 temples, and although the nickname is a significant exaggeration (there are actually a mere 180 temples in Carrion Hill, most of them but tiny one-room shrines), it seems that places of worship for gods both vast and slight grow from the very land. Shrines the size of cupboards, painted representations of gods with an offering of flowers beneath, rub shoulders with churches that somehow squeeze balcony upon balcony in tiny frames over almost decadently elaborate pulpits, and above all is the grandest place on the hill—the Ossuary Church of Pharasma.

The western area of the Carrion Hill runs along the southern bank of the Kingfisher River. Much of the city’s waste ends up here, and as such, the water quickly clogs with flotsam so that there are always several barges at work clearing the waterways and removing the flotsam to one of the Filth’s great burn pits. O"en, the transition between land and water is gradual, with shores being little better than quicksand; most buildings along the shore are built on wooden pilings sunk deep into the ground. Stories abound of folk who have found diamond rings, furs, and even magic items in the rubbish here, but also iron, wood, and other common salable commodities. A number of rag and bone merchants employ scavengers like this, and their warehouses are scattered on the edges of the Filth. The stench in the Filth is indescribable, especially in summer, and huge numbers of rats, flies, and particularly a species of maroon cockroach dwell here, making the land an almost living thing. The poorest (and generally newest) residents live in hovels clustered together for safety and stability—a town of scavenged rubbish. Numerous cruel taskmasters have their tanneries, alchemy workshops, and middenstone vats here.

By far the most crowded and populated part of Carrion Hill is the Tangle—the lower and middle heights of the hill itself. A twisting mass of alleys, dead ends, and lightless streets serve as the arteries and veins of the district. Towering around these black footpaths (that are o"en less than 2 feet wide) are claustrophobic houses of wood, stone, and increasingly, Middenstone. Anyone venturing into the myriad alleys without comprehensive knowledge of them or a guide stands an excellent chance of becoming lost, and those who do lose their way stand a excellent chance of being marked by thugs, cutthroats, or worse. However, in these alleys a traveler also passes countless houses, stores, and cupboard-shops selling everything from paper lanterns to decorative pig masks, from clay pipes and strange tobacco to street corner coffee houses at which locals gather to smoke long hookah pipes beloved of the population (the aromatic tobacco does an excellent job at masking the city’s other smells).

The cobbled streets at the top of the hill broaden and are bleached white, and locals joke half-seriously that the streets of the Crown are the tops of countless polished skulls. Buildings at the Crown are larger, and most utilize solid stone and good timber in their construction. Middenstone buildings are unknown in the district, but the color purple is not, for lavender grows in profusion in and around the many olive trees that thrive in the more pleasant air of the high hill. Actual crows are numerous here as well—some say they are waiting for something to happen. Merchants, dignitaries, and the wealthy make their homes here, enjoying the lack of taxes the isle grants.
Two structures on the Crown in particular bear special note. The first is Crown Manor, a fortified castle-like estate that serves as both the Carrion Hill town hall and the home of the city’s mayor. Called Rag Manor by many of the city’s citizens (but never to the mayor’s face) for the colorful and plentiful flags and tapestries that hang from its walls and fly from so many of its tower roofs (yet are only very infrequently changed and replaced as they grow tattered), some 20 members of the Crows normally guard their lord along with one of the sergeants at arms. Crown Manor has served countless rulers of the hill as a last bastion against invasion, and it is said that its extensive dungeons consist of the ruins of no fewer than two dozen previous castles.
The other structure of note on the Crown is the city’s largest and most intimidating church—the Ossuary Church. Built over the foundations of countless other graveyards and crypts, the Ossuary Church is run by the priesthood of Pharasma, although its site has served many deities over the ages. The building itself is white, its walls initially decorated with bones harvested from the depths of the church’s ossuaries for the purpose of making room for the new citizens of the Hill as the older generations passed on, but eventually as a grisly sort of decoration to celebrate the death of a citizen. Within the church, the walls are decorated with beautiful but haunting frescoes depicting Pharasma’s Boneyard. These murals are new, but the tradition is not—the deeper one goes into the vaults and crypts below, older murals for different gods exist. At the deepest level, in vaults the church has locked up and in which dwell strange and hideous monsters, the murals show the ancient rites of the Old Cults themselves.

Pele I
What I Remember

The mortal mind was never meant to hold the amount of knowledge that I had. Humans at best possess the capacity for 200 years of memories and the elves of sovyrian by contrast can hold up to 800 years, a far cry from the millennia’s of knowledge I had. When my divine spark was ripped from my chest I was given a mortal body with mortal capacity for memory. I fought to hold on to what I had for to long as a result I probably remember less than i might have. But fighting did give me more control over what memories I kept and which ones I had to forget. I no longer remember shaping the coastlines of castrovel and golarion. I no longer remember those long years i spent in the halls of elysium or the under-volcano. I no longer remember the feel of a magma flowing through the ocean, the creation of an island. What I do remember is the time I spent with my sisters Desna and Acavna and my younger brother gozreh. I remember the war, the death of Curchanus, I created the Kodan race in his image. I remember my enemy, the nightmare lord Kosmaro, and how far I have fallen. I might be mortal but my sister was fond of saying, “as long as there is a dreamer, there is hope,” now I am the dreamer, now, for the first time in a long time, I have hope.

Sojo #2

do people have no respect for those that came before them? this temple is amazing and yet inside we find a group of squatters trying to defile it with sacrifices and other befoulments. They got what they deserved and it was all the more satisfying to make sure that they knew that we had foiled their plans before we sent them to meet their dark master.


I'm sorry, but we no longer support this web browser. Please upgrade your browser or install Chrome or Firefox to enjoy the full functionality of this site.