The next day, disguised as merchants, we showed up at the Seven’s Sawmill to scout out the location. We planned to show up at the next meet, Oathday at midnight, in Iesha’s place, but we wanted to get the layout of the building first.

The front door was open, and men were working inside. By all accounts, it looked like a legitimate business. I walked up to the foreman and made conversation to distract him, giving the others cover to look around. Domoki stayed with me to act as lie detector. I pretended to be interested in buying a large quantity of lumber to build a manor. Talking about design choices, and mentioning a few other manors in the area, I casually let it drop that Foxglove Manor had burned down. I hoped Domoki was paying attention, for this was where I hoped he would catch any concealed reaction at the mention of Foxglove Manor. When it came time for us to make our exit, I started to ask about increasingly rare types of wood, until I hit upon one that they didn’t have. Then I hemmed and hawed significantly, said I’d have to look around, and excused myself.

We regrouped outside the Sawmill.

“Urhador, when you mentioned Foxglove manor,” said Asclepius, “one of the labourers in the corner suddenly looked over and took interest in your conversation. I think he knows something.”

“Interesting,” I said, “Domoki, did you get anything from the foreman?”

“I did not sense any deception coming from him,” answered Domoki.

“Then I guess Asclepius’ man is our guy, at least until proven otherwise,” said Joanos. “I think we should wait for him to leave, and follow him to see where he goes.”

We found a nearby set of benches from which we could relatively unobtrusively watch the comings and goings of the mill.

Three hours passed, and as evening dawned, Asclepius elbowed Tenebis in the side and pointed out a man leaving the mill.

“That’s him,” she whispered. “Don’t move yet. He’ll see us.”

We waited until he had passed us, then Joanos cast message, turned himself invisible, and set off after him. The rest of us followed at an inconspicuous distance, receiving whispered directions through the link. We ended up at an unassuming house in a middle class neighbourhood.

“So what do we do now?” I asked. “Do you want me to try to talk to him?”

“No,” said Joanos. “We have nothing to go on. We know they’re up to something, but we have no idea what. We need to sleuth around. Get some evidence. I say we come back at night. Pick the locks. Sneak in and look around.”

“Will evidence obtained that way be admissible in court?” asked Domoki.

“Are you kidding?” I asked, “Don’t be so naïve. The Justices here don’t care how evidence was obtained. Our bigger concern is if they’ve already bought out the Justices. We’ll just have to hope that’s not the case.”

◊◊◊

As midnight neared, we returned to the house once again. Tenebis went around to the back trying to peer in windows. Joanos quietly set about picking the lock. The rest of us held back and watched. We were just there in case a fight broke out and backup was required.

Joanos’ work was slow and methodical, and he spent several minutes hunched over the lock before a soft click was finally heard, and Joanos straightened out, looking pleased with himself.

But before he moved again, the door swung open of its own accord. The man we had been following stood in the doorway holding a hooded lantern.

“Not quiet enough, I’m afraid,” he said. “May I help you?”

Joanos was lost for words. As the seconds passed in uncomfortable silence, I thought desperately of a way to salvage the situation. None came to mind. But someone had to say something, so I stepped forward and gave it my best shot.

“So sorry to have picked your lock, sir,” I began. “Lady Foxglove sent us. I was hoping we could speak in private…” I continued, pausing to look around suspiciously, “…away from prying eyes?”

He laughed.

“You’re not Iesha’s people. You’re those cunts who killed Elsapeth and paraded her body right through the town square! Don’t think I don’t know who you are, Urhador!”

I almost turned around to shoot a nasty look at Tenebis, but then remembered he was on the other side of the building. He had just had to make us the most conspicuous visitors in town.

“Word travels fast,” I admitted. “It would seem, then, that you know a great deal about us, while we know very little about you. That puts us at a disadvantage. I don’t like being at a disadvantage,” I said, with my hand on the sheath of my dagger to illustrate the nature of my threat.

He laughed again.

“Are you one of the Brothers of the Seven?” I demanded, ignoring his laughter.

“Oh, that I should be so lucky…” he said.

“He’s looking pretty lucky to me…” whispered Asclepius’ voice in my ear.

“What’s the nature of your dealings with the Foxgloves?” I pressed.

“Urhador,” he answered sweetly, “you ask too many questions. If you are not out of my sight by the time I count to three, I am calling for the city guard. You’ll be surprised at how quickly they respond… They’re just around the corner. You see, the Brothers bought them off long ago… One…”

Joanos drew his sword.

“…two…”

“If you scream, I will slit your throat,” said Joanos.

The man took a break from counting to size us up. There were six of us, as far as he knew, and only one of him. He slammed the door in our faces, and I heard footsteps as he ran through his house toward the back. A horn sounded, its mournful note echoing up through the chimney of the house and projecting out across the sky.

“Tenebis,” I whispered through the link, “He’s trying to get away. If you can stop him without killing him, do it.”

◊◊◊

Tenebis slung the unconscious suspect over his shoulder, and we got out of there fast. We had no intentions of waiting around for the city guard to show up, even if there might be evidence in the house. We’d have to find our evidence elsewhere.

“So – where shall we go with this unconscious body?” I asked, to no one in particular.

“Well, we can’t take him back to the inn,” said Steranis.

“That would be suspicious,” pointed out Ulrick, satisfying his knack for stating the obvious.

“Let’s go to the mill,” said Joanos. “They had an unused basement where we can question him, and we might find evidence there. It should be empty at this time of night, and if it’s not, that’s worth investigating.”

We brought him to the basement of the mill. The door was locked, but this time, when Joanos picked the lock, no one rudely interrupted him by opening the door before he finished. The undermill was full of waterwheels, ropes, pulleys, and other machinery that powered the rest of the mill. There were no chairs here to tie the prisoner to, so Tenebis simply tied his wrists and ankles together and let him fall to the floor.

When Asclepius woke him up, he came to slowly, and looked around, assessing his surroundings before focusing on any of us.

“Where are the other six Brothers?” I asked.

“You want to meet the brothers?” he asked, in a mocking tone, “THEY’RE HERE!”

I nearly jumped at his sudden yelling.

“Well, that was easy,” I said. “Let’s go find them.”

Leaving our prisoner bound and helpless in the basement, we set off to find the rest of them. The undermill was not connected to the other floors on the inside, so we left the mill and paused to strategize before re-entering on the ground floor. Ulrick wanted to burn the whole place down and force the brothers to come out and fight us on our own terms, but Joanos was quick to point out that that would destroy any evidence to be found inside.

Our huddle was interrupted when a single arrow whizzed out of the top floor window and landed at my feet. Judging by its trajectory, it had not been intended to hit us; a warning shot, perhaps. But when I looked more closely, I saw that speared on the head of the arrow was a small slip of paper; someone had sent us a message.

I leaned down and retrieved the paper from the arrow. The message was short and to the point:

Come and get me. – T

Rage seethed up inside me as I recognised the handwriting of my nemesis.

“Shit…” I said, “I’m going in.”

Obviously, it was a trap, but try as I might, I could not pass up an opportunity to recapture Tsuto.

Fortunately for me, my allies were not willing to let me charge into a trap alone, so as I entered the mill, I felt the comforting presence of my six allies at my back.

Though all the machinery was disconnected for the night, sawdust still hung thick in the air, and every step stirred up more of it. It would not be safe to use fire in here. That must have been why Tsuto picked it. It was where I would be weakest.

Asclepius cast fire resistance on us all, just in case, as we began to make our way up the stairs. As we slowly ascended, we found the first, second, and third floors all to be empty. They were waiting for us at the top.

As we neared the top of the stairs, Tenebis was hit by the first arrow. A dozen hooded cultists stood clustered at the top of the stairs, most of them wielding shortbows. The three in front were armed with swords. Tenebis and the tiger ran the rest of the way up and engaged them. They tried forcing us to fight on the stairs, but the few in front were no match for us, and they slowly began to yield level ground. Meanwhile, arrows, bullets, and magic missiles flew as we tried to pick off the archers in back. Though they outnumbered us two to one, most of them seemed inexperienced, and the tide of the battle slowly began to turn in our favour. When the first few had fallen, I noticed another quietly slip away from the group. He was withdrawing, and leaving his mooks to fight for him.

His face was still covered by the hood, so the only parts of him showing were his hands. He bore the long slender fingers of an Elf, and his fingernails were filed to a point in the Elven style. But he was too short for an Elf, his feet too large.

Tsuto was a half-elf, I knew. In my mind, I could not be positive, but in my gut, I was certain that this was him. Ignoring the others, I focused my magic missiles on my nemesis as he retreated. They weren’t enough. He was getting away. I jumped across the void in the winding staircase and caught the banister on the other side. Scrambling over, I went after him. Focusing my fire into a narrow beam to lessen the risk, I let loose. Flames seared toward him, and with an uncanny dodge, he lunged away, escaping the heat. Sparks littered the air, as particles of saw dust burnt up. Fortunately, it did not spread. Tsuto drew a potion, reached up under his hood, and disappeared.

A door opened, and an Elf stepped out, wearing a gruesome mask that appeared to be made of human skin. Tenebis came up behind me, having finished with the expendables guarding the staircase, and attacked a seemingly empty spot. His sword met with resistance. Somehow, he had found Tsuto, even while invisible. I cast glitterdust, covering the whole area in cool sparks, and outlining the figure of the invisible man.

The tiger pounced on the Elf. Knocked off balance, the Elf staggered back into the room from whence he’d come and closed the door. There was a loud thump as the bar fell into place, locking us out.

An arrow whizzed past Tenebis and embedded itself in Tsuto’s side. With one final blow, Tenebis knocked Tsuto to the ground.

Joanos cast a spell on the door, and it swung open. The Elf was trying to escape up a ladder on to the roof. He didn’t make it, but I paid no attention. My nemesis was before me on the ground, and though he was still invisible, that would wear off soon. I stood and waited.

Less than a minute later, the hooded figure on the ground faded back into view. I bent down and pulled off his hood. I was right. It was Tsuto.

Asclepius walked up behind me, knelt beside him, and checked his pulse. She looked up and met my angry gaze levelly.

“He is stable now,” she said. “If I come back and he’s dead, that’s murder. And I will report you.”

I stared back.

“Understood,” I said, simply.

She left to check on the Elf. Tenebis pulled the mask off of his face. There was silence for a moment as everyone stared. I pulled my eyes away from Tsuto for just a moment to see what all the fuss was about. Staring back at me were the cold, empty eyes of Justice Ironbriar.

“Domoki,” I said, “there is something wrong with that Justice.”

Asclepius checked his pulse and announced that he was dead.

“Great,” said Joanos, “now we’ve killed a Justice. There’d better be some pretty fucking damning evidence in here, or we are thoroughly screwed.” He looked up and scanned the room. More human skin masks hung from the walls of this room, which seemed to be an office of some sort. “Oh, great. Flayed people masks. Creepifying, but not technically illegal unless we can prove he was the one who killed those people.”

The others fanned out and began to search the place. Steranis climbed the ladder to the roof, where he found a rookery, and spent some time talking to a raven. As for me, I stood watch over my nemesis. He had gotten away from me once, and I swore to myself that this time, I would not let him out of my sight until he was dead. I pulled out a rope and tied him up at the wrists and ankles, in case he should wake up. As the others filtered away, I found myself nearly alone with Tsuto. Only Joanos remained on the fourth floor with me, but he was occupied with inspecting the mask, and paid no attention to me. I stared at Tsuto. As I stood and stared at the face of my helpless nemesis, other faces flitted through my mind. I went through them, one by one, speaking their names: the men that Tsuto had killed at the glassworks. Some of their faces were already beginning to slip away from memory, the details blurring as I tried to recall them. Others I had known better, and their faces stood clearly in my mind’s eye, begging to be avenged. I considered drawing my dagger and slitting his throat right there and then, but decided against it. He should die by fire, and now that the immediate danger had passed, there was no justification for using fire inside the mill. It would have to wait.

The others slowly trickled back upstairs and shared their findings. There was nothing in the rest of the building, but as I’d been musing over how to kill Tsuto, Joanos had found quite a lot right where we were. The most promising lead was a book, written in cipher, which Joanos assured us he could crack, given enough time. The cipher was a combination of characters from the Elven, Draconic, and Infernal languages, he informed us. We weren’t sure what it said, but the cipher was complicated enough that it seemed a safe bet that it was concealing something big.

Steranis had been talking to the ravens caged on the roof, and piecing together the ravens limited knowledge with his own, he had managed to get some good information out of them. They were trained to fly to the shadow clock, an abandoned clock tower just outside of town, and deliver messages to a woman that Steranis was pretty sure was a lamia – a creature with top half of a woman and the body of a snake.

We all agreed that we couldn’t hide the body of a Justice for long, so we agreed to head straight to the Pediment building and turn ourselves in. With any luck, the ciphered book would provide the evidence we needed to indict Justice Ironbriar and clear our names.

Tenebis slung Ironbriar over his shoulder and started down the stairs. I struggled to pick up Tsuto and do the same. Physical strength, however, was something I lacked, and I wasn’t able to sling him over my shoulder like I’d have wanted. Domoki offered to carry him for me, and I had no doubt that he could, but that would interfere with my plan. I refused his help, and ended up half carrying, half dragging Tsuto down the stairs.

I hung back a bit as we left the mill. Dragging a body behind me provided an excellent excuse for walking a little slower than the others.

When the dust had cleared from the air, and a wind had picked up a little, it was time; I threw Tsuto to the ground beside me and poured out fire onto his body. Though he was unconscious, his reflexes activated with the sudden heat, and his body began to twitch as it burned up. I knew I should look away, but I didn’t, I couldn’t… I didn’t want to. His skin burned up first, shrivelling away to expose muscle and tendon and bone, and still he twitched. The flesh blackened and began giving way to ash, and finally his body convulsed one last time and was still. A shrewd smile spread across my lips. By the time the fire stopped flowing from my fingers, there was nothing left before me but a pile of ash.

I looked up to the see others surrounding me and looking on in horror. Asclepius was directly in front of me, and her eyes burned with an anger I had not yet seen in her.

“Do what your conscience requires of you;” I said. “I did what I had to do.”

◊◊◊ ◊◊◊ ◊◊◊

FAQ

What is this?

This is a character journal from a playthrough of the Pathfinder Adventure Path "Rise of the Runelords". It contains spoilers (obviously) from Rise of the Runelords, but game mechanics are abstracted in favour of telling a narrative.

Where can I read more?

The full, novel length story can be read at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20787326/

This story is 5 years old, why are you posting it to r/gametales now?

After a long hiatus due to having young children, I have more content coming soon! Over the next few weeks, I'll be posting excerpts from "Too Pretty to Die" to r/gametales in hopes of drumming up an audience before the next big installment of the story is posted.

Does this story have romance in it? Romance in RPGs is cringe.

Yes, this story has romance in it. The protagonist is a gay man and he does fall in love with another party member during the adventure. Everything is very "fade-to-black". If you think romance in RPGs is cringe, or you are a homophobe, this is probably not the story for you!

I hope you enjoy my story! If you're still reading, please comment below and let me know what you think! I love fan-mail and criticism alike!

It was the second morning since I’d quit my job, and I was beginning to think I could get used to sleeping in. It was not to be. I was awoken from my slumber by a loud knock at my bedroom door.

“I’m coming!” I yelled, as I crawled out of bed and threw on a robe. I opened to door to see Bethana, the Halfling woman whom Ameiko employed as a maid.

“What is it?” I asked, confused.

“It’s Ameiko. She’s gone. I think you’d better get your friends.”

The urgency in Bethana’s tone told me not to ask questions. I woke the others, and brought them down to the front room. Bethana was waiting.

“I woke up this morning and went down to the kitchen for tea,” she explained. “Ameiko wasn’t there. I was worried, because Ameiko is always there early, starting breakfast. I went to her room, and knocked. She didn’t answer. This was very unlike Ameiko, you understand. She never sleeps in. Against my better judgement, I opened the door and walked in. Ameiko wasn’t there, and her bed had not been slept in. Then I found this:”

She handed me a wrinkled piece of parchment. It was written in Tien. I glanced at the bottom of the page, where it was signed “Tsuto.”

“I translated it for you, on the other side.”

I turned it over to see Bethana’s neat handwriting, in Taldane.

Hello, sis!

I hope this letter finds you well, and with some free time on your hands, because we’ve got something of a problem. It’s to do with father. Seems that he might have had something to do with Sandpoint’s recent troubles with the goblins, and I didn’t want to bring the matter to the authorities because we both know he’d just weasel his way out of it. You’ve got some pull here in town, though. If you can meet me at the Glassworks at midnight tonight, maybe we can figure out how to make sure he faces the punishment he deserves. Knock twice and then three times more and then once more at the delivery entrance and I’ll let you in. In any case, I don’t have to impress upon you the delicate nature of this request. If news got out, you know these local rubes would assume that you and I were in on the whole thing too, don’t you? They’ve got no honor at all around these parts. I still don’t understand how you can stand to stay here. Anyway, don’t tell anyone about this. There are other complications as well, ones I’d rather talk to you in person about tonight. Don’t be late.

Tsuto

Tsuto was Ameiko’s half-brother. He was several years younger than her, and he was a half-elf. When Longiku had first laid eyes on the baby boy with the little pointed ears that his wife had birthed – the child that was supposed to be his – he had ripped the child from Atsuii’s arms and marched him straight down to the orphanage. There he left the boy on the front step, turned away, and never looked back. Atsuii was forbidden to see her son. Ameiko naturally heard the rumours about her brother, and soon she began to sneak down to the orphanage and visit Tsuto, bringing him food and stories. Six years ago, they’d had a terrible argument, and fallen out of contact. Ameiko had left town to become an adventurer, only coming back for her mother’s funeral a year later. There, Tsuto had accused Longiku of Atsuii’s murder, they’d had a screaming match, and Tsuto had left town for good. Ameiko stayed and started up the Rusty Dragon, which she’d been running ever since. Ameiko had tried to contact her brother a few times since, but she’d never been able to track him down.

Now, it seemed Tsuto was back in town. The meeting he’d suggested had been at midnight, and if he’d really just wanted to talk, she would have been back by now. Ameiko was in trouble, and it was time to mount a rescue.

I sketched out a map of the glassworks for the others. I pointed out all of the exits, and which way the doors opened. If we were going on a rescue mission, it was best we be prepared.

The sun was just rising over the trees to the East when we arrived at the glassworks. We tried the doors, and they were all locked. The curtains were drawn. None of us wanted to make too much noise – no need to alert those inside that we were coming – so we all stood aside as Joanos silenced his ferret, then picked the lock on the back door. With a soft click, the lock turned, and Joanos quietly opened the door and stepped aside. Tenebis went through first, and I followed him.

We were in the hallway, and from the main workroom, I heard giggling – not children, I feared, but goblin laugher. I nodded to Tenebis, and he barged through the door to the workroom. As I followed him in, I was met by a gruesome sight: human body parts lay scattered around the room; six goblins stood about, holding severed arms and legs, swinging them about, dipping them in vats of molten glass, and laughing; in the center of the room was Longiku, sitting on a chair, his body completely encased in thick, clear glass.

I flew into a rage. I was only dimly aware of my allies filing in behind me as I charged forward and started throwing fire left and right. The goblins mobbed me and began to hack at me with their short, stubby swords. My caution thrown to the wind, I had allowed myself to become surrounded, and the three goblins I was fighting began to push me slowly backward toward the furnace. I knew the furnace burned hot enough to cremate a body, and as I was pushed towards it, I thought of the irony of the fire sorcerer being burned to death. It would be fitting, I supposed. By now my back was up against the stone of the fireplace, and I could feel the heat through my clothes. Two goblins grabbed my legs and started to hoist me in.

Just then, an arrow sprouted between the eyes of the goblin on my right. It had passed right through his skull from behind. With the flash of a sword, the head of the goblin to my left departed from its shoulders. Tenebis was behind it. With only one goblin left, I summoned my power once again and threw one last blast of fire at it. It screamed, then crumpled to the ground, its skin blackened by the flames.

I stepped away from the furnace.

Ulrick was engaged in a firefight with a bow-armed goblin across the room from him. The tiger was snacking on the face of another. The final goblin was face to face with Joanos in a swordfight, and was nearly dead when Steranis snuck up behind him and thrust a dagger through his back.

With the goblins dead, I took a few moments to absorb what had happened.

The scattered limbs were those of my coworkers. Their bodies lay in pieces on the floor. I forced myself to look at each of their faces. As I laid eyes upon each one, I whispered their names, quietly, as in a prayer. They were all there; all eight of them. I turned my eyes to Longiku. He was immobile under the curtain of glass, but seemed otherwise unharmed. His eyes were closed, and he wasn’t breathing. Somehow his skin had not been burned by the liquid glass. I turned to Asclepius.

“I don’t suppose there’s any chance he could be alive under there, through some strange magic?”

Asclepius walked up to Longiku and inspected him. Then she turned back to me and shook her head, sadly. I went back to inspecting the room.

A trail of blood led out a door to the hallway. Excepting Longiku, the men had not been killed in this room, but rather dragged here, dead, and still bleeding. Some of their body parts had been dipped in glass, or had molten glass poured on them. In this case, the skin had blistered, and the glass had cooled too quickly, and cracked. It seemed the goblins had been trying to replicate the state that Longiku was in, but hadn’t a clue what they were doing.

I stood there silently for a few more moments, surveying the carnage. Then I kicked myself in the shin.

“Ameiko isn’t here,” I said, “We have to keep looking.”

I followed the blood trail out of the room, and the others followed in silence. It led out through the hallway, through the dining room, and into the sleeping quarters. My former coworkers had been killed in their beds before being dragged out there. They likely hadn’t even woken up.

There was no one else on the main floor of the glassworks, though the place had been thoroughly ransacked. We lined up by the stairs and prepared to storm the basement.

◊◊◊

Tenebis was the first through the door, followed by Steranis’ tiger. I was at the back, my magic drained by my near death in the first fight. I loaded my crossbow. The staircase was narrow, and we had to go down in single file. Tenebis turned the corner and ran the rest of the way down. Ares leapt after him. The rest of us pushed forward. When I got to the corner and looked around, I saw Tsuto fighting Tenebis in the middle of the hallway. A goblin bard stood singing behind him, and two other goblins were in front of him, already dead. Tenebis and Ares worked fast.

“Tsuto, you traitorous bastard!” I yelled.

“Take the half-elf alive,” I coldly instructed my allies. I fired my crossbow, and missed.

The bard was next to fall, riddled with arrows and bullets. Tsuto and Tenebis continued their swordfight. The hallway was narrow, and Joanos and Ares were having trouble getting any hits in past Tenebis. Domoki and Ulrick continued to shoot. Domoki had switched to blunt arrows to accommodate my request to take him alive. Tsuto seemed to be flagging, slowly. Finally, Tenebis judged the time was right. He feinted left, then quickly swung around to the right and hit Tsuto over the head with the flat of his blade. Tsuto crumpled to the ground.

Asclepius rushed over to stabilise him, and Joanos used some very complicated knots to tie him up.

“Gag him as well.” I requested.

“Why, is he a caster?” asked Asclepius.

“No, I just don’t want to hear his smarmy voice when he wakes up.”

Joanos chuckled, and complied.

I moved on down the hall. To my left was hallway that definitely wasn’t there last week. I pointed out this curiosity to the others, and made a note to investigate it later. I was looking for Ameiko, and I thought I might as well search the familiar part of the building first. The only rooms down here, excepting any that might be off the mysterious new hallway, were two storage rooms. I opened the door to the first one, and to my relief, Ameiko was there. She was tied to a chair and gagged, but she appeared unharmed. I rushed over to her and removed the gag.

“Did he hurt you?” I asked.

“No. I’m fine. Thank you for saving me.”

“It was mostly Tenebis,” I said.

“Did you kill my brother?” she asked.

“No. He’s alive; unconscious, but stable. The others will take him to the garrison.”

Untying her took some time, but when all the ropes were loosed, I helped her to her feet, and she seemed steady enough.

“Let’s get you home,” I said. I took her by the arm and led her back up the stairs. Domoki followed behind us. As we reached the top of the stairs, I couldn’t help but glance over my shoulder at the door to the work room. There were nine people in there that I would never see again.

“We’ll clean up in there,” said Domoki, “there’s no need for you to see that again. Take the lady home.”

“See what?” said Ameiko, looking over. There was still blood in the hallway. “Oh, Gods! How bad is it?”

“You don’t want to see,” I said, placing myself between her and the door to the workroom. “I’ll explain when we get home.”

Ameiko pushed past me and opened the door. She took two steps in and froze. Her eyes scanned over the carnage, silently, and came to rest on her father. She screamed. I rushed in after her and caught her as she sank to her knees, shaking. I heard footsteps running up the stairs. Asclepius stopped in the doorway. I guess she had heard Ameiko’s scream and worried that someone was hurt. I waved her off. Asclepius and Domoki moved down the hallway to give us some privacy as I held Ameiko’s slender, shaking frame in my arms. Ameiko pried her eyes away from Longiku and looked at me.

“The last thing I said to him was… Gods, I didn’t even say anything! I just hit him over the head with a frying pan!”

I nodded in understanding.

“The last thing I said to him was… hardly complementary, either. I believe it was something along the lines of ‘fuck you too, Longiku’.”

She forced a sad smile.

“I’m sure he deserved it,” she admitted.

“Yeah… he was a miserable old curmudgeon, but he was still your father. It’s ok to be sad. And it’s ok to still be angry too.”

She nodded, and placed a hand on my forearm as if to stand. I helped her back to her feet for the second time today. We walked back to the inn. Those we passed on the way saw from her face that something was gravely wrong, and they did not address us. When we got back to the Rusty Dragon, I took her straight to her room, and she didn’t argue.

“You were up all night, Ameiko. Sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.”

Ameiko closed her door behind her. I went down to the kitchen. We’d have to run the inn without Ameiko today, and Bethana couldn’t do it alone.

◊◊◊

The rest of the party got back to the inn a few hours later and briefed me on what they had found. The mysterious hallway had apparently always been there, but its entrance was hidden by a secret door in the stone wall. I thought back, and realised I had never really looked too carefully at any of the walls in the glassworks. There had been no reason to.

There were two rooms off the secret hallway. Both were storage rooms, and they were filled with counterfeit goods. There appeared to have been a smuggling operation going on right under my nose. In addition to the storage rooms, there was a tunnel leading off the secret hallway, to who-knows-where. The others had temporarily blocked it off, and said we could return tomorrow to investigate it.

They also showed me the goods they had pilfered off of Tsuto and the dead goblins. There was some nice stuff in there, but the thing that interested me the most was Tsuto’s journal. It was evidence, and might even give away his motives. I grabbed it and flipped to the back. A few pages from the end, there were several small hand drawn sketches of Sandpoint covered in arrows and symbols. One was circled. They were battle maps, and the chosen one depicted the goblin attack from last week. Tsuto had been involved in planning it. On the next page was scrawled in Varisian:

The raid went about as planned. Few Thistletop goblins perished, and we were able to secure Tobyn’s casket with ease while the rubes were distracted by the rest. I can’t wait until the real raid. This town deserves a burning, that’s for sure.

I turned the page again. More battle maps, these ones with more arrows than the last group. Some of the maps were scratched out, as if rejected. None were circled. They hadn’t yet decided on their plan for the next attack, but it clearly would be larger than the last. On the next page was written:

Ripnugget seems to favor the overwhelming land approach, but I don’t think it’s the best plan. We should get the quasit’s aid. Send her freaks up from below via the smuggling tunnel in my father’s Glassworks, and then invade from the river and from the Glassworks in smaller but more focused strikes. The rest except Bruthazmus agree, and I’m pretty sure the bugbear’s just being contrary to annoy me. My love’s too distracted with the lower chambers to make a decision. Says that once Malfeshnekor’s released and under her command, we won’t need to worry about being subtle. I hope she’s right.

“Who is Malfeshnekor?” I asked, looking at Joanos. He seemed to know a lot of things. This time, he simply shrugged.

“It sounds like a demon name, but I’ve never heard of him either,” said Asclepius.

Then I wondered who “my love” was, and I flipped back through the journal a bit looking for clues. Before the maps, interspersed among pages of text, were several sketches of a woman, mostly nude. In the last one, the woman’s hand had been replaced with a gnarled claw with six inch nails. The sketches were very well done, and she had a strikingly familiar face. I tried to remember where I had seen her before. After a moment, it clicked, and I said out loud:

“It’s Nualia.”

“Who?” asked Tenebis, who was standing behind my shoulder at this point.

“Nualia,” I repeated, “an Aasimar foundling that father Tobyn adopted. She supposedly died in the church fire.”

“How do you know it’s her?”

“She has a distinctive face.”

“Oh. I guess I wasn’t looking at her face,” admitted Tenebis. I chuckled.

I flipped forward again, past the battle maps and the last page of text I had read. The writing continued:

My love seems bent on going through with it—nothing I can say convinces her of her beauty. She remains obsessed with removing what she calls her ‘celestial taint’ and replacing it with her Mother’s grace. Burning her father’s remains at the Thistletop shrine seems to have started the transformation, but I can’t say her new hand is pleasing to me. Hopefully when she offers Sandpoint to Lamashtu’s fires, her new body won’t be as hideous. Maybe I’ll luck out. Succubae are demons too, aren’t they?

On the opposite page was another sketch. It was still Nualia, and she was still nude, but this time she was depicted far differently: both hands had been replaced with claws; a pair of bat-like wings sprouted from her shoulders; horns grew out of her temples; and her mouth opened in a cruel smile to show a set of sharp fangs.

Nualia was alive, and she was trying to turn herself into a demon.

◊◊◊ ◊◊◊ ◊◊◊

FAQ

What is this?

This is a character journal from a playthrough of the Pathfinder Adventure Path "Rise of the Runelords". It contains spoilers (obviously) from Rise of the Runelords, but game mechanics are abstracted in favour of telling a narrative.

Where can I read more?

The full, novel length story can be read at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20787326/

This story is 5 years old, why are you posting it to r/gametales now?

After a long hiatus due to having young children, I have more content coming soon! Over the next few weeks, I'll be posting excerpts from "Too Pretty to Die" to r/gametales in hopes of drumming up an audience before the next big installment of the story is posted.

Does this story have romance in it? Romance in RPGs is cringe.

Yes, this story has romance in it. The protagonist is a gay man and he does fall in love with another party member during the adventure. Everything is very "fade-to-black". If you think romance in RPGs is cringe, or you are a homophobe, this is probably not the story for you!

I hope you enjoy my story! If you're still reading, please comment below and let me know what you think! I love fan-mail and criticism alike!

The bells of the new cathedral rang out a joyful tune as people milled about in the square below. It was the first day of autumn, and the swallowtail festival was in full swing. Musicians played, merchants hawked their goods, and the taverns had set up patios all around the square to feed the crowd. Children laughed and played in the streets.

The swallowtail festival was a religious holiday. Followers of Desna flocked to Sandpoint at this time of year. Today was the grand opening of the new Cathedral, and at dusk tonight, a wagon full of swallowtail butterflies, the holy symbol of Desna, would be released into the square. I wasn’t a religious man myself, but the festival was good for business, so I never complained.

Instead, I stood quietly in my open booth behind rows of fancy decanters, figurines, and jewellery. The sign above my booth read “Sandpoint Glassworks,” and my boss had made me wear a name tag that read “Hello, my name is Urhador” in both Taldane and Varisian. Most of the vendors in the other booths shouted out their pitches to the passersby, hoping to attract attention. But I had a more elegant way. As I passed my hands deftly over my wares, and whispered quietly in a language I did not know, sparks shot from my fingertips and illuminated the fine details of the glassware. Children and tourists were gathered round in awe as my sparks danced in and out of the coloured glass. The spark show was just a little bit of magic I had mastered to improve sales, and while the locals were used to my tricks, it was always a hit at the festival. As the crowd around me reached what I judged to be its maximum size, I decided it was time for the finale. As I raised my hands above my head, and my whispered incantation changed, a cone of searing flame shot out overhead. The audience blinked at the shear brightness. Just as quickly, the flames were gone, and the remaining sparks rained down over me and my goods. Applause followed, and a few tourists from the crowd came forward to buy some trinkets as the rest of the crowd dispersed. As money and goods changed hands, I noticed a peculiar looking couple standing off to the side, perhaps waiting to speak to me. The woman had silver-white hair, though she was young, and amber coloured eyes, and I thought she might be an Aasimar. I hadn’t seen an Aasimar in years. The man was – well – glowing. Even in daylight, his skin shone with an unnatural radiance rather like a jar of fireflies, or a shaded lantern. In all other ways, he looked rather like a half-elf, like me, and a particularly attractive one, at that. He had broad shoulders, a chiseled jaw, delicately pointed ears, and golden hair made more striking by his literal glow. The woman was wearing cleric’s robes, and the man was wearing simple leather armour. He looked like he was ready for a fight, and that worried me a little. As my last few customers filtered away, the odd couple approached me. The woman spoke first:

“Fire-thrower?” she addressed me, as if she’d been searching for me. I wasn’t entirely surprised that she knew the meaning of my name, especially as she seemed to be travelling with a half-elf, but it still felt odd to have my name translated like that.

“Yes, how can I help you? Would you like to buy some fine glass wares? We have something for everyone. Perhaps some jewellery for the lady?” I said, switching into my regular pitch. Young men like the strange glowing one could always be persuaded to buy expensive things for their lady.

“No, thank you,” said the woman, “My name is Asclepius. This is Tenebis. I have been contacted by the Empyreal Lords and sent on a holy mission. A great evil is brewing is these parts, and I am to assemble the Seven who will fight it. You are the last of the Seven.” She pronounced “Seven” like it was a title, and not just a number.

“Am I now?” I said, trying to figure out what sort of con this was.

“I know it sounds far-fetched, but she is telling the truth,” said the man, speaking for the first time. “She comes on strong, but hear her out, please.”

I planned to. This story was far to interesting not to hear, even if it was a load of horse shit.

“Assuming you, and him, and me, where are the other four?” I asked.

“Over there,” she said, nodding sideways at a table on one of the tavern’s patios. I looked over to see who was there. There were indeed four other strange looking characters at the table. Nearest me was a very old, very wrinkled man with the distinctive blue skin of a Samsaran. He wore a robe of green, and by his side lay a magnificent tiger lapping at a bowl of water. Next was a small, pretty young man with pale skin, black hair, and the same unearthly amber eyes as Asclepius. He must be another Aasimar. He was taking apart some sort of firearm and laying the parts of it all over the table. Next to him was a short but muscular Oread, with skin like speckled grey stone. He sat cross-legged atop his chair, his eyes closed as if in meditation, and nursing a cup of tea. He wore baggy pants and no shirt. A bow and a quiver of arrows were slung over his right shoulder. He was well-built, with strong arms and broad shoulders, but his face was ugly as sin. Lastly, a middle aged Elf with thick, round glasses, sat there looking uncomfortable as a ferret chattered away on his shoulder. As I watched him, he picked up a glass of wine and downed it in one go.

“Splendid,” I said, “you have managed to round up an old man, a tinkerer, a simpleton, and a drunkard. At least the tiger, if it’s trained, will do us some good. We’re going to fight a great evil, are we?”

“Yes,” said Asclepius, seeming to miss or ignore my sarcasm. “I do not know the details. But we will know when it is time. Something will happen very soon to spur us to action.”

“Right then,” I said, noticing a potential customer waiting nearby, and trying to hurry this along, “you come get me when that happens. I have glass to sell.”

“We’ll see you in about… five minutes then!” said Asclepius, then turned and walked off toward the rest of the group, Tenebis in tow.

◊◊◊

Five minutes came and went, and nothing out of the ordinary happened. In fact, the whole day passed just as expected. At lunchtime, my boss told me to go enjoy the festivities for a while, but I politely declined, telling him there was a band of crazies about that I’d rather avoid. He chuckled, and let me stay. Longiku rarely laughed. Mostly, he acted like a crotchety old man, though he was only fifty. Occasionally, I found a way to tease him about it without arousing his ire, but mostly I stayed out of his way and let him be grumpy. I thought of Longiku more as an asshole little brother than as a boss, since I’d been apprenticed to his family since before he was born.

Evening came, and Mayor Deverin and Father Zantus took the stage. They made their usual speeches, a soon it was time for the butterfly release. Even I looked forward to this part. I did not worship Desna, but the butterflies clouding the evening sky was always a sight to behold. Some musicians picked up a lively tune, and father Zantus walked over to the covered wagon.

A scream pierced the air. It came from outside the square.

Silence.

Then, singing…

“Goblins chew and goblins bite. Goblins cut and goblins fight. Stab the dog and cut the horse, goblins eat and take by force!

Goblins race and goblins jump goblins slash and goblins bump. Burn the skin and mash the head, goblins here and you be dead!

Chase the baby, catch the pup. Bonk the head to shut it up. Bones be cracked, flesh be stewed, we be goblins! You be food!”

I swore under my breath as I dropped the decanter I was holding and prepared to fight.

“It’s starting,” said a voice behind me. I whirled around. It was Asclepius. This was no time to argue. I nodded to her and we moved off toward the sound of the goblin song together.

◊◊◊ ◊◊◊ ◊◊◊

FAQ

What is this?

This is a character journal from a playthrough of the Pathfinder Adventure Path "Rise of the Runelords". It contains spoilers (obviously) from Rise of the Runelords, but game mechanics are abstracted in favour of telling a narrative.

Where can I read more?

The full, novel length story can be read at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20787326/

This story is 5 years old, why are you posting it to r/gametales now?

After a long hiatus due to having young children, I have more content coming soon! Over the next few weeks, I'll be posting excerpts from "Too Pretty to Die" to r/gametales in hopes of drumming up an audience before the next big installment of the story is posted.

Does this story have romance in it? Romance in RPGs is cringe.

Yes, this story has romance in it. The protagonist is a gay man and he does fall in love with another party member during the adventure. Everything is very "fade-to-black". If you think romance in RPGs is cringe, or you are a homophobe, this is probably not the story for you!

I hope you enjoy my story! If you're still reading, please comment below and let me know what you think! I love fan-mail and criticism alike!

My boss asked for ideas for team building activities members of the department could be involved in outside of work. Nothing official. Just casual stuff to build some social ties outside of the office. I made the suggestion of a DnD campaign. And to my shock, people actually wanted to do it. So I put together a short campaign based on the movie "John Carpenter's The Thing" with a Mimic having invaded a Dwarf mine and the players being sent to find out what happened and restore the mine to functioning.

Well the players get to the mine, and start exploring. They encounter a lone dwarf wielding a broken shovel demanding they prove who they are. I made him crippled and super low-power such that even level 1 characters should be at near to no risk from him (provided they could roll well enough to grab him).

Well after 3 rounds of him attempting to "attack" them and failing, and of the players trying to pin him down... and failing to do so... one of the players set him on fire while one of the other players finally grabbed him, and then realized he was on fire so attempt to put him out and when that didn't work declared that they were going to throw him out of the cave into the lake.

I confirmed that they wanted to throw him into the lake that was outside the cave, which they did.

They then rolled a nat-20 for throwing him. So I proceed to narrate how they just threw this flaming dwarf out of the cave, off the end of the cliff and he went sailing down roughly 100 feet into the lake, as the player says "Oh right, we had to climb up. Um... is he alive?"

"He was starved, insane with paranoia, set on fire and then thrown from roughly 10 stories up into a lake. No. He is not alive."

Posting the ongoing story of my current campaign in parts due to a severe case of DM Cabin Fever. I've done a lot of work to integrate my players' backstories into the lore of Icewind Dale and I'm dying to share with someone. So please enjoy the below :D

===

It's December 2022 and my friends are talking about D&D with some new peeps they met online. I know what they're up to, but I'm weak to it... I cave and decide to don the Forever DM cap once more. I create a virtual campaign and give them the sources. "It's Rime Time guys. Go create me four level one characters."

Two weeks later and I receive the sheets, all in all, four very colourful characters.

===

The Cast

Elvina Mistera — Aasimar Fighter:

Daughter of a forgotten GodKing and GodQueen, Elvina's path in life is punctuated by the chilling thrust of a sword through her back. With her last sight the horrified visage of her sister, Elvina breathes her last and dies.

Beep-... Bee̵̡̙̟̍̈́̌̆p̶̛͚̺̣͇͖̠̃̇̕-... B̴̢̧͎͓͕̲̫̯͍̉͒͗͐́̀̀́̓̂̈́̌̋ę̴͋̋̉ȅ̶̗̓p̸̨̛̮̘̬͙̭̩̹̑͗̔͆́̆̉̆̆͐̉͌͝.

A choked gasp hurls a torrent of viscous cyan liquid as Elvina's eyes snap open. Wide eyes shooting around a darkened room, Elvina wrestles with horror and the distant pain in her chest as memories of her supposed death merge with the present. Tearing a pipe from her throat, Elvina gags before ripping herself out of a machine constructed from a dark metal alloy.

Minutes tick by as the synapses fire, her mind whirring back into activity as she climbs to her feet.

On a table nearby? A set of armour, a shield bearing her family's heraldry, as well as an unpleasantly memorable longsword.

Palming the dull pain in her chest that throbbed at the sight of the sword, Elvina stumbles forth. Equipped and ready for her journey, Elvina pulls a lever inviting a bone-chilling cold into the facility that sustained her. The land? Not a sight familiar from the homeland she remembered. Just cold white winter....

---

Jüles Takaperä — Halfling Rogue

Jules' fingers drummed energetically on the sill as her eyes enervated, peering out of her grandmother's window at the town she grew up in. Her father was a non-character, not even staying for her birth. Her mother? Well her name grinned up at her from a crumpled letter she found in her grandmother's desk.

The ink was faded and the letters near illegibly scribbled an address with blotches peppering the text like the blood that speckled in her grandmother's cough. Talviki Takeperä; 62 East Rind Street; Bryn Shander; Icewind Dale.

Jules could hear her grandmother coughing distantly upstairs, the recent wave of sickness blooming throughout the small village, confining the old kindly lady that raised her, to her bed.

Clenching her tiny fist around the note, Jules looked back up the stairs, hardening her heart as she stole into the savings her grandma had hidden in a loose board under the stairs. She wouldn't notice if Jules took a small handful of the near two hundred glimmering faces that gleamed up at her, right?

The young halfling waltzed out the house with the promise to bring back a pie, one-hundred and fifty golden royals and a leaden heart heavier. Hailing the caravan that visited every few months, Jules never looked back as the caravan slowly rocked up the small dirt trail, heading north.

"Bryn Shander huh... Just wait mother... I'll find you."

---

Erinyes Hawat — Shadar-Kai Druid:

Ranking lieutenant within the Raven Queen's guard. Erinyes was content serving her goddess, guarding the Fortress of Memories from those that would seek to harm her lady. Not that many had... Erinyes grew curious about the world outside the sprawling fortress of lost dreams. Agents of her goddess would often bring back relics forgotten by time itself. And her? She roamed the outer walls and sharpened her infinitely peerless abilities in preparation for... what?

Begging off the service to any goddess wasn't simple or wise. But her goddess released her just like that. With one caveat of course. The promise to bring back one timeworn relic, when requested.

As such, Erinyes enjoyed her life, exploring the vast and endless multiverse whilst waiting every day for a letter bearing a familiar feather. Nothing.

It wasn't until her and her latest companion, a young boy named Hirudo stumbled onto the sore end of a fearsome wizard and were separated to lands unknown that her goddess' command found her. "Head North little chick, and pluck for me the wretched soul of a girl killed by her father."

How had she found her? Erinyes knew better than to ask, but head north she did. Up into a land where even the sun didn't dare venture... it was good she was born in the dark.

---

Hirudo Woodramble — Biological Weapon:

Before talking about Hirudo, we must first talk about the one who created him. Estelle Woodramble. A name that murmured discord in the Feywild. Seeking a weapon that could shatter civilisations, Estelle pooled together aeons of meticulously curated resources and a lifetime of skill and knowledge in curse magic to forge the perfect weapon. Hirudo.

The swamp hag cackled as she rent space asunder, poking Hirudo through it into the greater multiverse and watched, ecstatic at the grief that would ensue. Hirudo obliged, a hunger for mana and an absence of anyone willing to teach him how to control it sustaining his dark desires to tear and consume.

One anomaly however was Erinyes, a wayward Shadar Kai trying to find purpose in her life. Hirudo felt his monstrous heart resonate with that, following the peculiar elf around as he took the occasional night away to devour a misbegotten mage or a child or two.

It was on one of his midnight traipses that Erinyes discovered the horrifying truth. The sight of a wizardling's feet sliding down his elongated maw. She'd seen worse than that in the lost memories that floated aimlessly around the fortress of her goddess... but the wizardling's uncle sure hadn't.

Somehow managing to counter the enraged mage's spell, space was torn asunder as Hirudo was separated from her in the astral before both were whipped back towards a random plane by whatever remnant mana she could structure from the wreckage of the spell, and unfortunately, Hirudo.

Hirudo crunched his way through seven wizards before an iota of clarity was restored, his form shifting under his mis-control as Channis's gauntleted fist shattered his jaw and made his vision bleed green....

"Commander Markham! We've subdued the doppel... this one was powerful."

"And yet, before the blank antlers, it will die like the rest. Strip it and bind it well. Let's see if the ice will freeze that sucker's form."

The last thing Hirudo could recall as his limbs were bound and tied hard to the post behind him was the mirthless look of the black bitch that ordered his death. And a supremely powerful energy welling up within him... begging to blow.

===

The Beginning

Rowan wasn't particularly fond of picking up the boy that walked out of a blizzard. The white haired-green eyed son rubbed off wrong on years of intuition surviving the sword coast's deadliest roads. Turns out the boy wouldn't be his problem for long, a blizzard besetting him and his caravan upon stumbling across the wreckage of a carriage.

The boy tore forth, first one into the find, much to Rowan's chagrin. He could hardly yank the boy back hard enough before seeing the surprising sight of four occupants, unharmed and dressed in nothing but their underwear as the sweltering heat of enchanted sun runes kept the dale's fiercest winds at bay.

Melvin, the leader, had introduced himself after donning a robe. Hailing from the city of sails, the quartet were clearly powerful as they joined the caravan. The blizzard seemed indignant, piling snow before their beasts and making the road nigh on unpassable.

The trip to Bryn Shander was arduous enough, and Rowan couldn't believe the things crawling out of the blizzard. He couldn't hold back his grin as what was recounted to him as ghostly hands of ice tore Hirudo and stole him away from the group. At least he wasn't his problem anymore.

Once the blizzard had cleared, Rowan detained a group of rowdy passengers who had decided to try and steal the caravan leader Rorick's curio, a bottle of boundless coffee. The fools. The three girls looked pitiful as Rowan had them tied to the carriages by rope and dragged along. At least attempt petty theft whilst he wasn't looking for gods' sakes.

What awaited their caravan as it continued north wasn't the bustling trade capital of the north however. It was the remains of a smouldering crater, green mist batting back the snow as it pooled at the bottom. Thankfully, the hardy people of the north had survived... somewhat. A small refugee camp already forming on the side of the crater.

Rowan sighed as they guided their caravan towards the town's makeshift palisade. Hopefully they would let them in...

===

And that was the end of the first session. :)

All of the character prologues were proposed by me after receiving my players' backstories to hook them into the lore.

It's my first time recounting the story of our campaign like this. I'm not sure if I should recount it with all of my reasoning and ideas explained? That's what I was hoping for after all because I've got all of these amazing ideas and narrative swings I want to share and nobody to talk to with about it.

Or, should I tell it piecemeal like this and let you guys find out for yourself as the story plods along?

​

Let me know ;)

​

Leafy Out— *Drops mic and walks off stage*.

We have just released Episode 37:

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5 Torches Deep Actual Play - Episode 37 - That Seems a bit Cheap

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It's been a while since the last episode, life, work, kids getting in the way, finally found time to edit it.

​

The party have released a alchemical grenade at the large group of lizardmen and we are joining the party in the aftermath of this explosion...

​

Can be found here: https://youtu.be/JvOB0INt05s

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Or here on Facebook: https://fb.watch/pHNKHXVZJH/

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An Audio only version of the recording can be found here: https://www.podbean.com/ew/pb-qz3az-1556f78

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Hope you enjoy!

​

On a another note Gareth our GM has released his own game on the steam platform 'WEB OR DEAD!' is a fun little spider game that is at a great price, please check it out here:

https://store.steampowered.com/app/2230630/Web_or_Dead/

​

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#rpg #dnd #dnd5e #tabletop #ttrpg #OSR #OldSchoolRenaissance #actualplay #podcast #fivetorchesdeep

Super Mario Bros. Lost Levels (All Stars ver.) is actually really fun!! Or at least that's what I think. I feel like this game has the impression that it's a cheap and unfair rage game. It does have times where it can be a bit trolly but i feel like it's not often enough to warrant calling the entire game cheap. I think most of the times it's actually fair and each level ramps up i difficulty naturally. Do you agree that it's a bit of a misunderstood gem? Or do you think it's just an unfun rage game?

I made a video where I talked about what I think makes it fun. I include a complete break down of a fairly difficult level to demonstrate what I'm talking about.

https://youtu.be/S6yAbNcX85w