Session Notes
Word reaches us, dear reader, of the exploits of the Circle of Darkmoor, now firmly ensconced in the East. Praise the Unburning Tree. Or that Nicholas fellow. Or whomever else we can credit for their absence. The young Lord, one supposes.
The heroes ventured forth and discovered more misdeeds of the Dark Cloaks, in the form of a ravaged coach, its draughthorses slaughtered and likewise its crew and passengers. These thugs are truly animals. One wonders whether the Circle really comprehends the difficulty into which they are so confidently striding.
They continued to follow a map that they previously wrested from the Dark Cloaks in that ill-fated assault on the Baron’s purse which now seems years agone, which led them away from the road and onto an overgrown path in what had become a verdant, muddy fen. They traced the furrows of wagons through the mire. Despite the obvious indications that traffic had split at a certain point, some bending away to the left, some to the right, before rejoining up the path, the Elf of Anthracite, a wand-twirler of a clumsy sort, proceeded straight ahead. Ignoring the signs, evident even to an overfed, ink-stained scrivener such as your loyal narrator, this man walked without hesitation directly into the quagmire before him and had to be rescued by his associates. I suspect that some of you, dear readers, believe that I fabricate these misdeeds. Trust me. I recount merely what transpires. In an inimitable style, I daresay.
They continued, the Athracitizen now fully bedraggled in what had become a freezing night air. Discovering another trail heading more northerly (their current bearing primarily easterly) which they took to lead towards the “Hay Barn” identified on their map, about which they had received multiple warnings was the lair of some fell beast, when suddenly nearby: a wicker man.
I delved into this matter, my friends, the “wicker man.” There has been in these parts the phenomenon of constructing these effigies, often from reeds, wicker, straw, and other dried vegetation. These man-shaped — though often quite large — objects are then set alight, sometimes as part of a ceremony or associated with a funeral.
However, there is a barbarous aspect to these wicker men, in addition to their more festive uses. Some horrible personages encase their pathetic victims in wicker, my friends, and then set these miserable packages alight. It is said of these wretches that they have been “candled.”
There is some historical record, furthermore, involving the use of wicker men by the Church of Elemental Evil. Additional research into this matter continues.
To return to our narrative of the Circle: inside this particular wicker man they discovered a victim, bruised, battered, beaten and naked: Lucretia, the Dark Cloak they “rescued” from her life of crime. Freed from her reedy confines, she recounted yet another tale of woe, having been captured in her attempt to depart Darkmoor for northern climes, she was brought back to the marsh and left to rot amongst the rot in the fetid swamp.
She reported that a group of Dark Cloaks had taken up post at the abandoned Carriage House back on the road. She suggested that the Circle might have to face this crew at some point, perhaps at a less advantageous time. But if the Circle struck first… they might steal the brutes’ garments and disguise themselves, perhaps making entry to the Moat House a simpler matter.
Seeing wisdom in this approach, they set about it. A battle ensued at the Carriage House, which for a time seemed poised on the edge of a blade. The tide turned when the Badit captain was brought down. The Circle defeated the remaining minions with little difficulty. However, one escaped into the marsh. Fearing that he might alert the Moat House, the Circle is, at this very moment, in pursuit, if my sources can be trusted.
I promise to keep you, gentle reader, informed as this situation unravels.