Meta Ruins of Myvolia

A Night in Veniset 5
And from the darkness they came...


Veniset: Town Square

For a long moment there is silence as the local men stare sullenly at Matrim. A fearsome gust of wind howls about the square, driving a shift of snow across the body, covering it like a thin shroud.

Captain Gregor’s chest rises and falls furiously as he eyes the members of the Company of the Manticore. The mayor, removing his thin fingers from fur-trimmed leather gloves leans over the body, drawing the scarf from its face and wincing. In his reedy voice he says:

’Tis Thobias Barlow. He had a farm ten miles west of here. He was married to my cousin.

Mayor Cultiss stands drawing his gloves back on as Father Talton and Father Sim emerge from the church, hastening towards the side of the body. The entire square has the feeling of a courtroom as those present await a verdict from the two men of the cloth. Though no words are spoken between the priests, much is said in a series of looks. The lack of blood from the wounds, the withered condition of the skin and muscles and the pale complexion and blue-ish hue to the lips speak of a body that has been dead far longer than a minute or so.

Rising and addressing the gathered men with the grave tone of a sermon, Talton first reveals the nature of the dead man and the hideous desire to kill that had possessed it. He tutors them in ways to discover the presence of the undead and urges them to strike if life is proven false. His voice rises zealously as he proclaims their barriers fit and demands that the defenders return to them.

Father Sim nods his agreement and offers the blessing of Pelor and Saint Lucius on all of those present.

Satisfied the men return to the barricades and the eyes of those on the rooftops once more turn outwards, scanning the night for signs of intruders.

While Sebastian’s voice urges the men on with words and song, T’alen, Matrim, Mayor Cultiss, Captain Gregor and Father Sim cluster around Talton. The elder priest growls at them:

We must make sure that the rest of the village is secured and that all of the villagers are behind the walls. We can’t risk anymore lives…if people die they become enemies. We are down three men already…good…strong…battle tested men. I’m guessing this wight was just testing our defenses. The real attack will be brutal.

The others nod and turn to renew their posts. As they move away, Gregor doffs his lamb skin cap and extends a hand to Matrim.

My apologies. I was just taken with surprise is all. I mean what should one think when…

Whatever the captain was about to say dies in his throat. A chorus of screams, muffled by the stone walls, issues from inside the church. Two men closest to the heavy oak doors are already at them, straining to pull them open to no avail.

Father Talton had warned that the next attack would be brutal. It numbs the mind realizing how brutal it could be.

Veniset: The Church

A worried rumble runs through the women and children in the church. The tidings of first blood have deeply unnerved them. From where he stands in the shadows near the front of the chapel, Terrence watches as the two priests step through the main doors, heading into the storm to help deal with the confusion. A trio of guardsmen move to close the doors behind them.

Wasting no time, Terrence moves to the pile of supplies scooping up a few items that could be valuable.

Obeying the orders from Talton to continue bringing up supplies from the undercroft, the young boy and two other men plod down the narrow steps into the crypt.

From the far end of the chapel one of the three guards-a man heavily mantled in furs, with his face masked by a deep hood-grasps the iron bar and sets it in the brackets of the door. Before a question can be uttered by the man next to him, the cowled individual turns, striking the other guard full in the chest with both fists. A howl of excruciating pain issues from the stricken guard as he sinks to his knees. The terrible effect of the assault is revealed as lines criss cross a face that was once smooth with youth and a grey pallor replaces the blush of red that coloured his cheeks.

The screams of the women and children as they surge from their seats fills the air and Terrence finds his view of the assailant blocked. Scanning the chapel he sees four men, all with swords drawn, attempting to force their way through the sudden press of bodies.

Grimly he realizes that the church, a sanctuary until a moment ago, has now become a pen with the bulk of the village’s defenders locked beyond its sturdy door and thick walls.

The Logging Camp

The bodies of three loggers slump upon the snow, their blood pouring forth a red stain on the fresh snow. Howling with rage, the remaining men cluster around Alma and Lornaal, hacking at them with heavy, if untrained, blows.

Carving a space about him with the cruel edge of his great sword, Alma returns to the offensive. He slashes at a young man with a shaggy blond beard and ropy muscles clad in a wool tunic and fur cloak. The blade catches him in the neck, lopping through sinew, flesh and bone before carrying on to catch Ulof heavily in the chest. The blond man’s head falls face first into the snow while his body goes limp, crumpling to the ground in a geyser of blood. Ulof fares little better, the blade opening a gaping rent in his chest that issues a deep red fountain.

Sinking to his knees, Ulof curses and spits blood.

Lornaal, wades into his opponents, swinging the large axe in a wide, wicked arcs cutting down two more loggers with a gruesome efficiency.

Seeing the rapid decline in their numbers, and the heavy wounding of their master, the men seem little interested in continuing the battle. They back away carefully, fear clotting their features.

From his knees Ulof continues to curse in a voice strained with pain. Already his face has paled as the amount of blood lost nears a mortal quantity.

Despite the grimness of the task, Alma feels a thrill of victory run through his veins. Twenty armed opponents defeated in mere seconds time! A bloody pride swells within his chest. Disturbed by the feeling, he struggles to master it. Looking to Lornaal, Alma sees that the wound in his shoulder is wide, but not crippling. In truth the large northman hardly seems to notice the blood flowing freely down his right arm.

Drawing in a breath of frigid air Alma looks to the frightened men and the spreading flames of the logging camp behind them. From the main building the panicked cry of horses cuts through the storm, drawing the Cyonian’s attention. As he looks to the building, however, Alma’s eyes settle on the tree line of the camp. Perhaps two hundred feet away, arrayed in a loose line, nearly thirty figures of various sizes stand, observing with cold, dead eyes the men of the logging camp.


Attack #1: 15(d20) + 12 = 27
Damage: 7(d12) + 7 = 14

Attack #2 11(d20) + 7 = 18
Damage: 5(d12) +7 = 12

Cora, you remain cloaked in shadows next to Terrence as the two priests hustle from the church. Events seem already to be rolling. Fearing that Nargash might be drawing close you look to the corridor at the back of the church that leads to the small, sturdy back door. Before you can decide to move however, the commotion with the guard breaks out.

Hearing the sound you turn to see the familiar sight of the life draining attack of a wight being employed on the unfortunate guard. As the crowd in the church leap to their feet and struggle to move away you too lose sight of the attacker.

What do you do?

Alma - Madness at the Logging Camp

Alma ducks and spins away from the loggers wild rush. His agility and magical protections have proven equal to the task so far, but his mighty companion has already taken a hit and the longer this draws out the more of there energy and health it will cost them. He realizes there will be no negotiating with Ulof, his arrogance and rage have taken it beyond the point of return in his eyes (spurned on of course by Alma’s own arrogance and lack of flexibility… but self reflection can be saved for a time when people aren’t trying to plant axes in his head).

Alma swings his blade hard in horizontal arc through one of the pressing loggers and into their leader Ulof (he hopes).

Attack(3pt power):


Cleave Attack on Ulof:


AC: 24
HP: 43

Terrence-Veniset-So it begins...

As people open the doors to see what happened, Terrence sees an opportunity and grabs a few items that were found in the church basement. A couple cure light potions, and fills his quiver with a bunch of white fetched arrows (anything special about these Talton?) and grabs the rest of his gear and disappears into the night. If Talton questions Terrence and his motives, Terrence will simply ask Talton to trust him and will quickly disaappear asap.

Move silently= d20+13=18+13=31 (poof)

Terrence watches Cora disappear into the shadows after their discussion just as screams come from outside the church. As people open the doors to see what happened Terrence sees an opportunity and grabs a few items that were found in the church basement. A couple cure light potions, and fills his quiver with a bunch of white fetched arrows (anything special about these Talton?) and grabs the rest of his gear and disappears into the night.

Terrance meets up with Cora and they discuss strategies and analyze the town as to where the little girl would hang back until she feels the time to show herself. Once a location or two is figured out they will strategize escape plans, planks/ropes to get to the rooftops. They will do this as quickly as possible and while hidden.

Move Silently2=d20+13=16+13=29

Sebastian - The seige of Venist
THey're among us!

Startled only for a moment by the Ranger’s actions, Sebastian quickly unslung his bow and turned in a slow circle scanning for any additional infiltrators. Seeing none he could tell by the murmuring of the gathered villagers that they had not yet assessed the truth of the situation and a different trouble might be brewing. Almost as soon as he’d begun to try to sooth the crowd, The Company’s and the villages holy men came trundling up to the scene bellowing for calm.

After a quick check of the body confirming the experienced warriors’ suspicions Brother Talton began to issue his warning laced orders.

You heard the man! To arms! To arms! Watch for the breath and talk to everyone you see! The enemy is here and possibly among us!

Time to get inspirational!

You fight for your families, you fight for your land.
You fight an enemy who won’t just kill a man.
Stand up for your village, your home,
Stand up for everything you call your own!
Together this village will survive,
Once again you will prosper and thrive!

Allowing a self-amused smile to cross his face he finished…

Bard’s will sing of this night!

The Bard gave a reassuring smile to whomever he passed as he headed to his post. Taking his spot he scanned the dark snowy countryside as far as he could see. Muttering under his breath so none could hear…

Big Bear and The Southern Whore had better hurry…

Full Alert

Talton looks sternly at the pastor.

This is going to get grim. Make sure everyone who isn’t fighting is safe in this church.

He then abruptly orders the boy and a couple of other to continue bringing all the supplies up from the cellar. With determined purpose he stalks outside to assess the situation.

Blinking his eyes through the blinding snowfall and trudging through its accumulation on the ground Talton makes his way over to the body. After a cursory investigation he determines the fact of the matter. He stands up straight and arcs his back slightly to address all villagers in the square.

Citizens of Veniset! It is upon us! This was not a villager going about his business. This was a spawn from hell who had stolen the body of one of your loved ones! We must be vigilant! These creatures are able to walk among us in this horrible weather; but, it will also help us. These creatures don’t breath, these creatures don’t bleed and these creature will not hesitate to kill you and turn you into another spawn from the pits of hell!

Let mighty Pelor guide your hands and mind. Look your companions in the eyes to search for life, make sure your companion’s breath freezes in the air and don’t hesitate to sound the alarm and strike with fury if you don’t see these markers of the living!

Now is the time! To your posts! We must man these walls to make sure nobody but the living get past us! This is our last stand! Now is the time to make sure everybody is secured behind these walls! Demand anyone approaching to state there name and purpose…and then check for signs of life.

If Talton sees any delay of action from the militia he will bellow in his most stern hell and brim-fire voice,

NOW!!! To the WALLS!!!!

With that he will gather T’alen, the mayor, Matrim, and the Pastor.

We must make sure that the rest of the village is secured and that all of the villagers are behind the walls. We can’t risk anymore lives…if people die they become enemies. We are down three men already…good…strong…battle tested men. I’m guessing this wight was just testing our defenses. The real attack will be brutal.

Talton then looks purposefully at the group expecting a response.

A Night in Veniset 4
Blood on the snow




With one fluid motion you draw an arrow, notch it to your bow, pull and release. You repeat the action twice more. The first arrow thuds into the bundled figure’s chest, knocking him back a step. The second drives him to his knees while the third buries deep in his throat, laying him flat on the icy square.

There is a moment of stillness as the men of Veniset look, aghast, comprehension slow to dawn. Dozens of eyes turn to where you stand, the string of your bow still humming a menacing knell.


The choking roar comes from Captain Gregor as he strides forward, looking with disbelief from the corpse to you.


You stand by the bonfire warming your hands, your mind lost to private thoughts. You have finished memorizing what spells you thought necessary for the coming night and now must wait for an opportunity to put your arcane powers to use.

A young village lad, wrapped in a lamb skin cloak runs to your side, his breath issuing about his face in great clouds. In a small voice he bids you to return with him to the church where Terrence claims to have found something useful in the crypts. Turning towards the building you see the first arrow slam into the chest of an approaching man wrapped in winter furs. Looking in the direction that the arrow came from you see Matrim release two more arrows.

Your keen mind works fast as you cast your cloak open, preparing to weave your hands through an offensive spell if necessary. You watch as the figure falls prone on the cold ground, noting that no blood issues from any of the deep wounds. A wight then, you think.

Captain Gregor’s furious words do not catch you off guard. Already you had realized how bad this must look. It is difficult to tell one man from another in their heavy winter dress and Matrim’s assault on the individual seems almost random and unprovoked to those who have not already dealt with these cunning undead. You scan the two score of men stationed about the square, wondering if an others have already breathed their last. For the moment, the real danger seems to lie in regaining the trust of the villagers, for amidst their murmured voices you hear words like, murdered and killed ’im fer no reason.

Terrence and Talton

Talton and Father Sim emerge from the crypt, hauling up another heavy load of gear. Already a formidable stack of arrows and melee weapons have been piled in the chapel. The door to the church bursts open and a young boy runs in, his voice squeaking with excitement:

One o’ the outsiders just feathered a man o’ the village! ’E’s dead in tha’ square! I saw it all.

The boy’s mother drags him over to her pew, bidding him to calm down. Even so, the words draw a rumble through the gathered women.

Father Sim looks to Talton.

Perhaps we should see what has happened. The people are very stressed just now and a misunderstanding could cause a calamity.

Emerging into the square they see Captain Gregor and Mayor Cultiss standing over the body of a bundled man with three arrows buried in him. Several of the village men have gathered nearby, keeping a cautious distance from Matrim and T’alen.

The Logging Camp

Alma removes the restraining hand from Lornaal’s shoulder as the verdict of a fight seems now inevitable. He smiles as he checks his stance, adopting a calm, but ready posture.

I can offer Quarter to any who surrender once enough of you have died to bring clarity to the others…. I make no promise for the restraint of my berserker friend.

Lornaal’s eyes narrow as he watches the loggers approach, waiting for them to get closer before switching his grip on the spear and sending it hurtling towards a burly opponent with an axe. The spear takes the man full in the chest, the tip bursting from his back in a spray of blood. A death scream issues from his lips as the bearded logger falls to the group, mortally wounded.

As Lornaal draws his axe, the crowd of men use the moment to charge forward.

Alma waits for them to draw close before unsheathing his sword and cutting down a pair of men with a single deadly arc of honed steel and blood.

The men, undeterred for the moment, attack with their axes and picks.

While Lornaal is able to turn aside several of the attackers, one thick-chested Grewhanian manages to slip past his defences, his pick biting into the northman’s shoulder and drawing from Lornaal a cry of rage.

Alma fares better, side stepping and blocking the attacks of the loggers who crowd around him. Only Ulof, wielding his axe with an unexpected amount of skill, even comes close to striking Alma. It is only the Cyonian’s quick reflexes that save him from a fearsome injury as he narrowly avoids the blade.

Attacks against Lornaal

8, 15, 10, 21(crit)

1 successful: 6+4+1= 11 damage

Attacks against Alma

16, 12, 8, 22 (Ulof)

0 successful

T 'Alen Undead Attack

T ’Alen’s attention snaps towards the man who just grew three rather odd looking feathered ornaments when Matrim’s warning rings through the town square.

Damn, we were too careless. We should have checked everyone who was coming and going for signs of life. So easy to do in this weather, of course the undead have no need of air, and no way to warm it in their soulless husks even if they did breath it. So much for being the smart one in this company.

T ’Alen backs off towards the church (if the weight is still standing) raising his hands towards the undead fiend, firing three glowing darts of energy as he goes.

Initiative: D20 + 2
[d20] 7 + 2 = 9

Magic Missile(1) d4+1
Magic Missile(2) d4+1
Magic Missile(3) d4+1

[d4] 4 + 1 = 5
[d4] 4 + 1 = 5
[d4] 4 + 1 = 5
Total: 15

Prepping the Church

Spending all of his time in the church bringing all of the weapons from the cellar up (he will commandeer several villagers to help), checking out the crypt to make sure there isn’t another entrance (or exit) and directing the blockading and fortification of the church’s windows and doors. He will make sure one side of the front door is accessible for use; but, will keep barricading material close by in case of an emergency.

Upon closer inspection of the chest from the cellar he is able to determine the purpose of the contents.

  • 10 cure light wound potions (d8+5)
  • 2 bull’s strength potions
  • 4 cure moderate wound potions (2d8+7)
  • 1 oil of magic weapon (+5)
  • 10 create water scrolls
  • 2 comprehend languages scrolls
  • 1 consecrate scroll
  • 4 death ward scrolls
  • 2 restoration scrolls
  • 1 sending scroll

Immediately recognizing the benefit of the cache he grabs the scrolls and then takes the potions to distribute to The Company.

As soon as he hears the call of alarm Talton races out the door telling everyone to bunker in the church and to stay alert.

HP 36 AC 20

Initiative 18

Alma - Thats a Barbarian

I can offer Quarter to any who surrender once enough of you have died to bring clarity to the others…. I make no promise for the restraint of my berserker friend.

Alma smiles as he delivers this unpleasant news to the soon to be dead loggers. The smile is false… Alma had hoped this sort of resolution would not be necessary, but had steeled himself for it long before arriving at the camp. Perhaps If the barbarian can calm himself a handful can be saved.

It of course never even occurs to Alma that they could lose this fight… self doubt simply isn’t in his nature… These people bleed.

Alma will wait until the first opponents close within striking distance then quick draw his sword and cut hard hoping to fell 2 enemy’s in one mighty blow.

Attack(2pt power attack): Roll(1d20)8:
Possible Crit: Roll(1d20)8:
Assuming confirmed
Damage: Roll(4d6)22:

Cleave Attack:Roll(1d20)8:
Damage: Roll(2d6)11:

AC: 24
HP: 43

Matrim - Veniset 3

The howling winds and blinding snow blanket the town in white. The villagers work hard and fast to erect barricades and defenses as planned. Matrim helped and acknowledged the townspeople wherever he could within the town square. The unknown answer to the reoccurring question in Matrim’s mind: how long would Kandure need? Matrim hoped they would be able to defend the villagers as long as needed until reinforcements arrived.

Scanning the town square, Matrim looked for something else to help with. He watched the boy search out and head over to speak with T’alen. Turning his attention from the two, Matrim had the realization that one of the men was out of place, though nothing odd seemed to be apparent at first glance. Breath. As awareness dawned on him, Matrim sprung into action, fletching of an arrow drawing to cheek as he bellowed alarm.

HP – 49
AC – 19

Moving forward, Matrim will do rapid shot at the undead creature , yelling that the undead are here

Attack 1: 18(d20) 13(base) +2(weapon) +1(focus) -2(Rapid Shot) = 32
Damage 1: 7(d8)
3 = 10

Attack 2: 16(d20) 8(base 2nd attack) +2(weapon) +1(focus) -2(Rapid Shot) = 25
Damage 2: 4(d8)
3 = 7

Attack 3: 18(d20) 13(base rapid shot) +2(weapon) +1(focus) -2(Rapid Shot) = 32
Damage 3: 6(d8)
3 = 9

Initiative: 13(d20) +10 = 23


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.