Festival fever at Finchford

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The Game

With all these people around it was easy to move around unhindered. The joyous shouts of victory, the laughter, the sadness of a crowd favourite falling at the last hurdle. All of it was covered for the biggest score of their life. However despite the ease of how it was going this was not the first time that they had worked together. In fact working together brought the most out of them and they each knew how to play the game.

Keep one hand open for the players to see, a few cards for your allies to see but keep just as many cards hidden from all. That’s the way to win the game and they both knew this. The Wolf and the Doe – an effective team of thieves, con artists and if the job called for it they could handle even dirtier work. But today, this blessed week of games and merriment, there were competitions to rig, pockets to dip into and purses to steal.

The Keep

After the business at Thrall keep had died down, festival fever at Finchford was in full swing. Merchants were sporting new wares both exotic and local craftsmanship. The city was the busiest it had been in years and everyone was going to make the most of it. For adventurers such as the party there were tests of skill, power, strength, cunning and dexterity a-plenty with hefty rewards and prizes for those who rose above the rest.

It was a time of relaxation and celebration and for those who had uncovered the secrets of Thrall keep it was a time of expectation of their abilities. In fact, they had set the benchmark high, people and other adventurers looked at them like either worthy opponents or threats to their claim of the prize. Maybe it wouldn’t be a relaxing week after all.

Thoughts

A good old fashioned tournament week! One of the earliest adventures I remember was where we had to work our way up from nothing. Dad had just con’d out PCs with some illusion magic, janky illusion magic mind you, and we had lost all of our gear, gold and equipment. Participating in a tournament of skill with a little bit of underhandedness thrown in was a great way to learn other aspects of the game. So this week as the festival fever at Finchford reaches an escalation point the party have two adventures in one.

Dark Thrall Keep

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Carrying out the large pot, nearly a cauldron she thought to herself with a laugh as she upended the dirty water into the back alley. The Pot had contained a stew that contained mostly Lamb, well lamb-like meat, and fed the Five Fat Ravens tavern patrons. As she scrubbed out the last stubborn burnt-on morsels of food she glanced up towards the old ruins that lay on the cliffs above the City of Finchford.

“The Dark Thrall ruins…” She muttered to herself. The old keep was rumoured to have held the most holy of warriors during the age of King Parn the just. Marie had wanted to explore those ruins when she was a little girl many  years ago. She got close before her parents had found her and her childhood friend Rhyan. She still remembers how mad they were, but also the fear in her parents eyes. That was the day she learnt the other half of the tales of the keep.

After King Parn was murdered his knights pursued the killers and encountered a fearsome enemy, a dragon. They retreated to the keep to hope its walls, towers and weapons would save them but they were wrong. The Dragon managed to kill all the knights and destroy much of the keep but it also disappeared. As the Knights never finished their vengeance it’s rumoured that their ghostly figures haunt the ruins. But the other rumour is that the dragon sleeps below the rubble, waiting for hundreds of years as it heals.

The Keep

As she remembered the old stories, a moment of movement, a flicker of light from the keep brought her to focus. The distant rhythmic low rumbling sound seemed to flow down from the keep across the valley below. There, against the moon-lit clouds there was a shadow, a shape. Something dropped in her stomach as she watched a massive figure land against the keep, wrapping its large wings around the towering spire of stone as a growth resonated through the town like thunder. The remaining patrons inside the Five Fat Ravens Tavern went dead silent as they slowly wandered out of the tavern.

As the last patron walked into the back of another that had stopped just outside the building they all watched in amazement and terror. A dragon, as large as the keep crawled down the keep, another reverberating growl hit them like a shock wave as they watched the incarnate of death disappear into the ruins.

Only then did the panic hit the patrons of the Five Ravens Tavern and soon the surrounding buildings were awake and alarmed. But by the morning only the patrons of the Tavern had seen the Dragon. The City officials had ruled it too a night too full of grog and the patrons had all accepted it. For many more nights the dragon hadn’t appeared again, but Marie had seen it. She doesn’t drink or eat anything from the Tavern so those excuses didn’t work on her.

She had seen the Dragon and no one would believe her.

Thoughts

A great week inspired by another on-the-spot adventure prompt from my daughter. This weekend is about the once thought long-dead Dragon in the keep that rises at night to ‘eat people in the towns’. She is a bit of fascinated by zombies and large lizards considering the last prompt she gave me was the Cult of the Forgotten. But I will try to do this one justice, but there is a twist this time.

In service to Yeenoghu

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“I never imagined such rage, such unbridled bloodshed. We were lucky to escape when we did” the old woman said as she looked backwards at the fires. Clutching at the bundles of belongings she managed to rescue from the village before fleeing she felt a pang of guilt. It was the right decision to leave those outsiders without a wagon, they would slow down the raiders, the beasts from the forest. When they were done with those adventurers they wouldn’t be able to catch up with them.

“I am sure they are fine.” she smiled, lying, as she patted her daughter’s hand who sat next to her. “They were strong. The beast-men would not be able to kill them. I told them we would meet them at the next village.” she reassured. She had no qualms about lying to those around her, it had become a talent over the years.

“The first gift is hunger… It is His blessing.” her son muttered next to her. A dim boy who had never really accomplished much.

“What was that dear?” she asked, wrapping a blanket around him.

“It is our call to bring death…” he muttered as he stared at the fires in fascination. “The second gift is death. Death proves our strength. Death purges our fear.” he muttered as he began to rock.

“Mother, Toby’s not well is he…” Salis asked, her worry for her brother mingled with fear and disgust. Nothing infuriated her more.

“Have some compassion, Salis. Your brother watched his friends be slaughtered at the gate. It’s a miracle that he survived and thought to warn us.” she snarled, clutching her son tightly.

“The third gift is fear… We fear that we will fail him. We fear the onset of hunger.” Toby continued, staring into the fires unable to look away as the towering beast-men pillaged, killed and destroyed the village he had grown up in.

Thoughts

A bit of a darker one this week but I promise it will be fun. Abandoned by the people they sought to help the party must fight their way out, grab the first transport out of the village and escape the ravaging hordes that worship and are in service to Yeenoghu. Now the lord of gnolls himself may not be present this adventure but his servants are varied and those who worship destruction and the uncontained blood lust are aplenty.