RPG Campaigns

Giraine Summaries

You hauled the three bodies to the base of Burnt Priest's Hill and didn't see any recent Giranois activity but saw plenty of tracks in the ashen mud. Atop the low plateau, you found the usual stone slab-tables and standing stones. Boamund found a few armloads of charcoal as a chilling shadow set across the land and you felt a Presence around you. Each of the bodies was placed on a slab-tabled with charcoal and Boamund used his fire-ring spell to light them, which proved remarkably easy even in the rain. Fires sprung to brilliant life and amidst them you could see a salamander; a fire elemental; which writhed ecstatically in the heat and consumed each body, one by one, into charcoal before the fires died down and it slipped back into one of the slab-tables where it had been bound. As you left, you saw that toads had crawled out of muddy burrows to stare at you, and did one or two of them nod back at the Baronet? Furthermore, at the bottom of the hill you found fresh humanoid footprints in the mud headed to the northeast but could not determine their source.

As you travelled homeward again you passed Giranois now and then, who diverted to examine you and drew even closer with interest when they did. You caught mutterings and whispers from them about “The Thralls of Granno,” which seemed to be your new collective title amongst the natives. But the Giranois did not speak to or hassle you, and your journey was largely uneventful- until you entered the flooded, lightly forested lands south of the Monastery. There, amidst a thick fog, a great tongue lashed out near the Baronet, and you traced it to a treetop where another mottled green, spindly giant treetoad lurked. Boamund impaled it with a thrown spear, which it dislodged with a kick but the resulting wound caused it to lose its hold on the tree and tumble to the ground in a ragged, twitching heap, which a few pokes of harpoons and swords reduced to a very dead heap.

And then you finally returned to civilization (as it were)! It was the beginning of Storm Season now; the final season of the year 1621. Soon you would have been settled on Giraine for a full year, and you pondered how much you'd achieved so speedily here. St Thosos presented itself out of the fog, and you made haste to the Baron's keep. Baronet Shaven diverted to visit the only magical healer in town, the mad Bishop Umrovide at the little seaside shack-cum-shrine to Rokar, and the Bishop agreed to heal him for a steep price of 200 silvers (and magic that made the Baronet ill at ease, as it seemed to try to reveal/heal his heretical sins). He also made it clear that the woman from Oyesteria Major, Enelaena, that you'd brought to him for healing had been healed in a most Rokari way– she had been burned at the stake, “to heal the wound in the world that keeps Arvonesse down.” This mad bishop did not seem so puttering and ineffectual as you'd previously thought, and his crazed obsession with raising the grand Cathedral of Arvonesse from the sea had only grown stronger. He insisted that in the new year 'his' cathedral would finally rise again, and urged Lord Shaven to repent now so that his sins could be shriven away before the light of Rokar blazed like a beacon from the spires of that religious fortress.

You found Big Ron in foul spirits, complaining that the Rokari could see inside his mind when daylight came, and that the Rokari knew all his secrets and other truths, and had shown him his awful fate as a heretic. He was, however, of sound enough mind to discuss your news of a truce with the Giranois and the finding of a third Saints' Weapon, and soon you (along with plenty of wine at dinner) cheered him with your heroic tales. He took the news of peace well, concerned that this peace would not hold for long of course, but open-minded enough to try peace. Once the Giranois betrayed this peace as he predicted, that would be the end of them, he swore.

You urged that the Rokari were the common foe and the local Chapel could be brought down, but he cautioned that this would result in a peasant uprising– too many of the locals still favoured the Rokari church, even in the absence of strong leadership these past few weeks. Baron Ron nimbly avoided talk of the “visitors” at Fort Mudlark, swiftly changing the subject. He confided that the local folk had begun to spread rumours about his odd habits, that his avoidance of daylight and active night life were signs of vampirism, or atheistic sorcery and necromancy (perhaps the Giranois were right?), or worse, and such troubles were a grave burden for him. In a moment of despair, he urged you to flee into the wilderness of Giraine and hide, as the Rokari were preparing to come in the new year and St Thosos (with the Baron) would be their first target. He did not plan to make it easy for them, though, he swore to fight and was devoting energies to defend this port, but showed little faith in holding out for long. Ron showed some of his old fiery spirit when the Baronet offered to take Ron's family away to safety, exclaiming that they were Ron's responsibility, and how could Lord Shaven dare to interfere.

Ciddar entertained you with rowdy, drunken sailors' songs as dinner drew to a close, and then clumsily performed a Pithdaran jig before collapsing into the embrace of his favourite serving wench, burying his grinning visage in her bosom. But then he seemed to sober up and remember his duties to you (and his uncomfortable experiences alone at Fort Mudlark), so he rejoined discussions. The Baron was scolding Baronet Shaven for being away from his home for so long- he had heard that your peasants were growing ever discontent with your absence, and rumours had spread far about the uncouth tower you had raised on your lands— people even wondered, were you thralls of the Vadeli? You needed to spend time at home to set things right again, and some of you felt that need, too. Furthermore, Ron's contacts in St Thosos had spotted those assassins come through the port, and wondered who they were but they'd left too soon. Ron was certain that the Rokari would send for him, next, and was haunted by visions of that doom to come.

Although you had lifted Ron's spirits, and he had agreed to try out your truce, he soon grew weary and the mysterious Evakranem the scribe glided out of the shadows to direct Ron to his tower chambers. Then the scribe came to you and spoke while standing awkwardly near the sitting Baronet. The decrepit, dry-skinned old Pithdaran wizard spoke remarkably frankly, declaring that as the Baron's trusted advisor and councillor he could work with you to “mould Ron and steer Giraine in appropriate directions.” You discussed this more in his study off from the hall, and found that you had much in common in your goals, except that he initially argued to take the initiative and strike the Sharde clan down now, rather than leave that initiative to them. You reasoned with him at length, and managed to get him to agree to try your plan to use the Giranois to help drive the Rokari off the island first, before truly pacifying/eliminating the natives. He said he'd “ponder the permutations” of this plan and speak to you about it again soon.

In the morning, Big Ron presented you with a surprise before you left: racks of new armour suits emblazoned with his heraldry: a black hawk atop a black tower surmounted on an orange field. You had your choice of up to plate armour in the latest fashion, and there were ample choices to suit all your body frames! You praised his very generous gift, which he explained as a show of appreciation for your loyalty and heroism, and took your leave of the Baron, who once again was smiling.

And soon you were back on your lands, welcomed by a growing, inquisitive peasantry and then by winter flowers and butterflies, then by beautiful song and a perfumed breeze, presaging the arrival of the gorgeous Inyana, who was swept into her husband's arms as they pirouetted around the turnip fields to the cheers (or was it jeers?) of the muddy farmers. The Captain made a beeline for your little harbour with Ciddar, eager to follow up on rumours… and confirmed them. The Shadow had returned early! Thanks to some strange benefactor back at the Oradaros port, who had very generously gifted manpower and fine supplies to fix the ship in record time. The crew was joyful to be reunited, and begged their captain for a voyage of adventure soon– ideally to hunt down and wreak vengeance on that terrible monster Pellinoresbane that had endgendered this latest separation of ship, captain and crew! Ciddar broke out some extra rations of grog and a party was quickly joined in good order. Meanwhile, Cyroosta grumbled about having to keep things running here at home without you, and scolded Boamund for worrying her with his long absence. She surprised you, though, by offering to perform a ritual to bring back the health you'd lost to Sesgallah the mud hag, expressing her motherly concern with promises of magical invigoration.

It was a good life for those first few days back at the manor, and new good news came daily. Inyana had been blessing your lands with song and magic– if she had lost her mortality to get married, it was not at all evident in her magical power– and the peasants had all fallen in love with her for the beauty she had brought with flowers, friendly animals, and the best weather on this end of the isle. The Mraloti had arrived here and settled on the northeast edge of your lands, buying hogs from St Thosos that they'd begun raising. They had kept to themselves and no troubles had arisen. [The Vadeli were living somewhere in that area, too, and keeping quiet, which was not such good news?] Your workers, uneasy as they were about uncovering horrible old curses as they dug in the swampy ruins, had finally found something of interest in their excavations: an old buried ruin where they found remnants of coloured glass, surely a sign of something of value submerged there in the estuarine mire.

Even more excitingly, your winter labourers in the Tower had carefully investigated a colourful fresco in the tower-top and discovered it was well preserved. The Baronet inspected it, as they were puzzled by its abstract nature and runes, and he was agog at its implications: it was a map of Giraine, but not the Giraine of the Second Age when it must have been made– it was a map of today's Giraine! And the positions of the four saints were unmistakably marked upon it: Tutrys and sword kneeling here at the tower, Buquaim and spear drowned on the sunken ship off the reefs, Lelbic and fan lying prostrate on the coastline, and the last one, Karkovoch, pictured as a large ugly man in chains, holding a shield with runes of Law and Darkness, shown in the fabled city of Arvonesse, now buried deep in the sea surrounded by the Arvonesse reefs! You discussed this amazing discovery and resolved to speak to Omen the fish, the Ouori, and sailors about how to reach this difficult spot (cold, very deep, and very dark, on the ocean's floor; and thronging with sea trolls, the Ouori had told you).

But such thoughts of new adventures and investigations were met with many clucking tongues and reminders of mundane duties here. The people needed leaders and role models here, not in far lands risking death, for there was much to be fearful of and much to toil for here. And so you felt a certain proportion of the burden that Baron Ron lamented, and knew that new struggles this season would test your ability to keep it aloft.

Meanwhile, the menace of Church and Kingdom loomed just over the cliffs and black straits to the north: the cruel, rigid faith of Rokar was watching, and scheming, and had the heft of a power-hungry kingdom behind it…

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