Now with the past few days of content you can only imagine where we are going with this unholy arson. The source of the blaze revealed tonight but not the why, or actually even the who. There is more than one way to raise a building to the ground we prove in this weeks adventure that fire is by far the favourite option for arsonists.
Before it really gets too hot in here let’s grab a coffee, iced if you prefer, sit down and roll into tonight’s adventure.
Unholy Arson
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Although the fire at the Gilded Lily had been a mystery without witnesses or cause, the newest fire that lapped at the wooden beams of the Fatty Pheasant was different. As they pulled people from the burning building the guards and fire wardens asked who did it. Many did not respond in their panic and talked nonsense. But a few mentioned watching the bouncer, Gareth, approach a passer by before the front of the tavern, and Gareth, was enveloped in flames.
It was not hard to find Gareth, a mixture of burnt skin, flesh and leather amongst the injured. He was badly injured but he was alive, somehow. The guard hurried him off and quickly sent out a request for healers, for trackers and for anyone who could assist them in their investigation. The burly form of Gareth Fletcher was carried by no less than six guards as they protected the burnt man from any and all dangers. As the only one who may be able to identify who or what caused this they needed to protect him with their lives.
As they hurried him away on a large stretcher, a middle-aged man watched from a nearby building. His hands trembling from the realisation of what he had done in the moments of clarity and freedom of his own mind and actions. But no quicker than the clarity had washed over him it disappeared. A cold slimy feeling moving along his spine and worming its way through his brain which froze the memory of the fire, the heat and the look of pain and disbelief on the minds of the man out front of the Tavern.
Pulling up his hood he walked from the shadow, limping slightly from an old wound as he moved towards the bridge that took him over the river to where the next target was. One that was not yet full of panic and fear to taint the taste of the feast that awaited him. Despite the rational man trying to claw back control of his own mind and body eventually the chilling pressure was too much and it wasn’t until the next morning that he woke up. His hands covered in soot, blisters and blood as he looked around at what the morning brought him.
Even in his dazed state he could not remember what had happened from the night before. He remembers taverns and fire, that would explain the heat in his hands, the blisters and soot. But he could not tell where he had come from, how he had got here and how he had escaped the fire. Looking over the city of Hawks Creek he noticed three plumes of smoke. “Not again,” he muttered, trembling. “I hope no one was hurt. Someone’s got to stop this arsonist.” he said as he stood up on tired limbs and moved to the nearest plume of smoke to help search for survivors, the dead and to clear the wreckage. After all, as a cleric of Ilmater the pain in his palms was nothing to the suffering to what those poor unfortunates were going through.
A mid-point twist with the culprit revealed as… not really being the culprit, maybe? As something sinister stalks the taverns, inns and eateries of Hawks Creek there is a call for aid to help stop the arson. But we will cover a bit more of that tomorrow and the last days of this week. So don’t forget to come back each day and, as always, don’t forget to roll with advantage,
The Brazen Wolfe
Brazen Wolfe Tabletop 