The Dragon Rising: A Pendragon Solo campaign. Episode 18
Year 487 - Winter, Part 3.
King Adeon’s victory feast is over, and Tremayne was given a druidic blessing, which has caused his stock to rise amongst the Sochian nobility. Once Lady Ava had chased off a young woman who was wanting to get too familiar with him, they made their way back to Laverstock and a harrowing experience in the nursery.
Gwaelod rushed into the room, out of breath and sweating profusely.
Tremayne pointed at the child in the crib, “Do something!”
“Wait outside.” The druid pushed past and stood over the child.
Tremayne watched and waited.
“I said go outside!”
After a moments hesitation the young lord stalked out of the room.
Lady Ava hurried towards him down the hallway. “What is it? What’s going on?”
“It’s Alice.” Tremayne muttered, tears starting to trickle down his cheeks.
Ava stepped close and held her son as he sobbed.
Year 487 - Winter Phase.
We’ll roll for any experience check for Tremanye.
Lustful (15): 13, no change.
Sword (17): 1, no change.
Awareness (8): 13. Awareness goes up to 9.
Falconry (13): 3, no change.
Tremayne ages to 21 years old. He can add one to his attributes, Size is now 15.
Discretionary income is 18 libram from 4 manors and the estate.
Family rolls - we’ll test Tremanye’s lustful (15): 19. a failure, no child roll this year.
Glory total is 100 for the estate and 77 for traits gives us a new total of 2,610.
Gwaelod turned at the sound of the horse and watched as Tremayne slid out of the saddle and approached through the standing stones.
“Why did the gods take my child?” The young lord demanded.
The druid spread his hands apologetically, “The gods do what the gods do. I don’t know what they plan or what they intend.”
Let’s test Tremayne’s spiritual trait.
Roll 1D20(12): 7, a success.
Tremayne took a deep breath, “I just don’t understand why they would take my daughter.”
Gwaelod sighed and put his hand on the young man’s shoulder, “I don’t know either but you saw the miracle we had right here among these stones.” He looked around, “We should build a temple to celebrate this place, it’s special Tremayne.”
“A temple?”
“Yes, a temple. A great building to honor the gods.” The druid smiled and waved his hand at the ring of stones around them. “We must believe and worship them Tremayne.”
“I’ll talk to Rhobat about hiring some craftsmen. We’ll need to use stone.” The young lord replied.
Gwaelod smiled and placed his hand on Tremayne’s forehead, “Praise you, your father would be proud.”
Far to the north in the cursed land known as Sablat, an event that would shape the fate of the world began.
On the eve of the third blood moon, a black spire erupted from the heart of the Ironwood. It pierced the clouds like a blade; its surface etched with glowing runes. The trees around it withered and died, then slowly creatures from man’s deepest nightmares crawled forth from the shadows, drawn to its dark pulse.
Those who still remembered the old warnings whispered just one word: Varenth.
The ancient words echoed through the catacombs in a tongue no mortal throat was meant to shape. Hooded worshippers stood in a ring around a festering pool of black ichor, their arms raised, voices harmonized in guttural chants. The stench of rot and brimstone clung to the air as the surface of the ichor began to ripple violently.
From the bubbling sludge emerged a shapeless, pulsating mass, a thing of darkness and corruption.
Then the change began.
With a deafening shriek that tore at the soul, the blob convulsed. The formless thing began to condense, to pull inward, bone forming from shadow, sinew stretching beneath sickly flesh. A skeletal frame emerged as the monstrosity reshaped itself with an inexorable slowness.
Its final form was disturbingly human. Skin as pale as death stretched taut over angular, unnatural bones. Its eyes glowed with an infernal red, horns curled from its temples. Its mouth, too wide and full of too many teeth, twisted into a knowing smile.
It stood silently as the last syllables of the chant faded. The worshippers fell to their knees, trembling, the air thick with power.
The god had awakened.
And it remembered everything.
Winter always seems to be a bit of a whiplash. The women of House Laverstock are having a rough go of it. Really liked the descriptions of the new god, I feel like the tone is going to shift with that thing showing up! Excited to read the upcoming chapters!
Interesting development with the new god.