Session Notes
Good morning, citizens of Darkmoor! It is I, your beloved chronicler and sage, Buck Headstrong! Reports of my demise, though humorous, are unsubstantiated. I remain ensconced in my secret lair, gathering the information for which you thirst, all for mere pennies from your depleted purses.
Activity in Elder Pool continues to simmer, perhaps just below the level that you might observe it. Yet you feel it, do you not, dear reader? An undercurrent of malice that throbs and vibrates, and gnaws at your guts?
Or perhaps that is merely the magicks, surely of an evil nature, that the Circle of Darkmoor employed to bring into our midst a dozen or more tattered, filthy and undeserving prisoners of the Moat House. Reports indicate that the buzzing that we all felt occurred concurrent with the arrival of these wretches. More mouths to feed. Surely Elder Pool possesses already an abundance of poor, homeless, likely diseased refuse from other realms. Given the substantive problems that our current regime can not adequately address, can we truly afford to have these refugees in our midst?
And how did our loathsome lovable Baron respond to this new threat in our midsts? Did he castigate the Circle for bringing these escaped criminals to within our city walls? Did he punish the dark sorcerer of Anthracite who employed this disruptive spell technology to cause these peasants and worse to suddenly appear, in a way that caused our very innards to recoil? No. He preferred an ancient title, that of Inspector of Darkmoor, upon that evil warlock. This, my friends, is the state of depravity in which we find ourselves, today.
Alas, my friend Fluffy1 has grown silent in recent days. However, from the accounts of the refugees of the Moat House, I have learned that the Circle, while within the subterranean spaces of the Moat House, discovered more magicks of that dread sorcerer of Anthracite whose name has been lost to time2. Dark books of enchantment. A fearful enchantment scratched into the living rock of the Moat House. A nice comfy blanket!
Furthermore, beyond a concealed panel, the follower of that abominable St. Somethingorother, discovered that same long-deceased “cleric’s” hidden apartment at the Moat House, and may have carried away some item found there.
We face, together, dear reader, the fallout of the failed mission of the Circle to confront the bandits of the Moat House. They have brought with them only more burdens and pestilence. Have they recovered items or treasures of benefit to the Barony? Of course not. They have merely uncovered items important to their own shadowy factions, likely to be used for purposes contrary to the interests of you and I. Items that were best left buried.
We have to ask ourselves if we were not better off before this Baron and this Circle seized power. Was it a problem for Elder Pool that these so-called bandits operated on roads outside of town? Were times not better before so much turmoil, here and throughout the Barony, was caused by this whelp of a Baron?
I can only think these sad thoughts, my friends, and write them down as best I may. I sip on this unremarkable claret and think of the good days. Shouldn’t we return to them? I leave that as open question for you, my loyal friends.
- If something has befallen Fluffy, vile and unrepentantly murderous though he was, I shall never rest until those responsible are brought to justice. After, I hasten to add, my afternoon constitutional, of course.
↩︎ - Many incorrectly believe that this powerful mage of that time long ago was himself named “Anthracite.” I assure you, that is not the case. The grand, grim tower that he caused to be raised out of the dead soil of that region in the south of Darkmoor, his school and manufactory was named Anthracite. The sorcerer himself… no one living recalls his name. Nor what became of him. ↩︎