Session 2 recap
We left Mary in her home alone, as crumbling and disheveled as it was, it felt as though that was the only place she could belong until we brought her daughter back safely. We had set off to find answers, anything that might lead us to making sense of what had happened over the past few days. What is clear, however, as clear as the palisades of Silverymoon – is that this town is cursed. A foreboding sense of dread hangs in the air every step we take. Any soul we do see wondering around leaves a sour taste. A lack of life and vitality behind the eyes tells me everything I need to know about the inhabitants of this place.
Which leads to the next beat in this twisted history – the manor of Collin Derovich. If this entire place was twisted in some way by the foul stench of wicked intent, the Derovich house was its epicenter. I could feel the odor drench me as I stepped foot through the entryway. I could sense echoes of torment that haunted this accursed abode. Through every creak in the floorboards, every sigh in the walls as the wind bore down upon it. Every step felt like another foot trodden downward – into hell. A simple quest from a humble son would follow
Collin was dead. His letter beckoned us to help his beloved Ireena. Whoever this mysterious enchantress was, we were destined to find out. One way or another. The new master of the house, Collin’s son, Ismark welcomed us in. His eyes were sad. He had pale skin, dread-soaked features and an aura of deceit. I couldn’t quite put my finger on what it was about the entire scenario that welcomed doubt – perhaps the newly draped corpse that welcomed us from the corner of the entrance hall. The fresh scent of death now had its origin point – and backstory, soon to follow.
We were welcomed to stay the night, as long as we agreed to seek out burial arrangements for Collin’s now stiff, cold dead body. We humble accepted. It seemed as though we hardly had the choice, with no other leads to chase. I think we all assumed this was our best chance at figuring out the secrets this village held onto.
We sought a humble coffin maker in the woods to the north of town. A simple mission, to collect and return the goods. Strange to think now those goods would turn out to be that humble carpenter’s corpse. The pile of bodies seemed to be pilling up faster than we could burry them. I don’t suppose this town had a contingency plan for making their dead disappear.
The ambush at coffin maker’s shack was swift. A planned attack at the appearance of anyone mischievous enough to inspect the disappearance of a humble craftsman tucked away deep in the woods. The claw marks which appeared to make a trail toward our destination should have been a tip off in hindsight. But nevertheless, those twisted wood blights were dismantled without concern. Our retribution was as swift as our surprise.
Questions hounded my mind as soon as our defenses subsided…
What was the vined magic used to twist and rot this hermit’s hut?
Who could have marked those trees in the woods with such ferocity and anger?
What the hell is going on with this Derovich fellow?
Will our hallowed Dragonborn veteran succumb to our enemies again just as quickly the next time this happens?

Until my next entry… be safe.

Vicyeras Wychlaran

Session 2 recap
We left Mary in her home alone, as crumbling and disheveled as it was, it felt as though that was the only place she could belong until we brought her daughter back safely. We had set off to find answers, anything that might lead us to making sense of what had happened over the past few days. What is clear, however, as clear as the palisades of Silverymoon – is that this town is cursed. A foreboding sense of dread hangs in the air every step we take. Any soul we do see wondering around leaves a sour taste. A lack of life and vitality behind the eyes tells me everything I need to know about the inhabitants of this place.
Which leads to the next beat in this twisted history – the manor of Collin Derovich. If this entire place was twisted in some way by the foul stench of wicked intent, the Derovich house was its epicenter. I could feel the odor drench me as I stepped foot through the entryway. I could sense echoes of torment that haunted this accursed abode. Through every creak in the floorboards, every sigh in the walls as the wind bore down upon it. Every step felt like another foot trodden downward – into hell. A simple quest from a humble son would follow
Collin was dead. His letter beckoned us to help his beloved Ireena. Whoever this mysterious enchantress was, we were destined to find out. One way or another. The new master of the house, Collin’s son, Ismark welcomed us in. His eyes were sad. He had pale skin, dread-soaked features and an aura of deceit. I couldn’t quite put my finger on what it was about the entire scenario that welcomed doubt – perhaps the newly draped corpse that welcomed us from the corner of the entrance hall. The fresh scent of death now had its origin point – and backstory, soon to follow.
We were welcomed to stay the night, as long as we agreed to seek out burial arrangements for Collin’s now stiff, cold dead body. We humble accepted. It seemed as though we hardly had the choice, with no other leads to chase. I think we all assumed this was our best chance at figuring out the secrets this village held onto.
We sought a humble coffin maker in the woods to the north of town. A simple mission, to collect and return the goods. Strange to think now those goods would turn out to be that humble carpenter’s corpse. The pile of bodies seemed to be pilling up faster than we could burry them. I don’t suppose this town had a contingency plan for making their dead disappear.
The ambush at coffin maker’s shack was swift. A planned attack at the appearance of anyone mischievous enough to inspect the disappearance of a humble craftsman tucked away deep in the woods. The claw marks which appeared to make a trail toward our destination should have been a tip off in hindsight. But nevertheless, those twisted wood blights were dismantled without concern. Our retribution was as swift as our surprise.
Questions hounded my mind as soon as our defenses subsided…
What was the vined magic used to twist and rot this hermit’s hut?
Who could have marked those trees in the woods with such ferocity and anger?
What the hell is going on with this Derovich fellow?
Will our hallowed Dragonborn veteran succumb to our enemies again just as quickly the next time this happens?

Until my next entry… be safe.

Vicyeras Wychlaran

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